Work Text:
Wriothesley is driving this man back from court.
It's been raining all evening and now it's almost eight o'clock. By his look, Wriothesley is guessing that he might be one of those prosecutors, wearing something preppy and tight, and that rectangle glasses.
The man greeted him so quietly and even said sorry when he opened the door and some raindrops got in along with him. Though it's something he sees as a normal thing in people's life, the car may get wet a bit but it will dry.
Rainy nights also means he will have less clients anyway.
That man almost whispered his destination, too. It's a twenty minute drive, the traffic isn't too horrible before they will soon reach the park.
And between then, honestly, he doesn't intend to listen in, but it's the soft sighs against the silence in the car.
It's a rainy night so he instead isn't putting on the radio, it could be half static noise. Radio is not the technology they try to keep nowadays.
They come to the place where his client—passenger gives him a bill and says he can keep the change.
He kind of likes bills or cash, that's one reason why he doesn't go on the application that makes people use less cash. And he also doesn't want to always rely on the mobile phone.
He keeps it as a tip, it's not something special.
Then the door closes and he decides he will probably wait around here for some new clients.
There's a couple huddled close to shield themselves under the same umbrella. They seem to not be in a hurry or as some people these days believe, taxis will be pricier while it's raining.
While it's not true about him, it can be true about others. And what could he do anyway, to let them know it.
He can be laid back and ungreedy, at least it doesn't make him a bad guy, someone back at home said it before.
While he debates whether to turn off the taxi light, a familiar figure comes into his view again when he unintentionally looks beyond the sidewalk into the park.
The reason for coming to this place at this hour is not for him to pry, and typically he doesn't care too much about people.
It's just he remembers there's a simple black umbrella that a client has left in his car for more than a week. It's in good condition that he's ready to return it if only he will meet the same client again.
His sister tells him that he should either use it or throw it away. But what use of it there's for him. He has a car, when it rains he can drive or stay in the car. If he has to be elsewhere he can run those distances without problems.
Or just use the other one that she has prepared for him, despite the—bright color.
So it's decided. He gives that umbrella to the man. Though he looks surprised, he accepts it.
He says again, in a quiet voice; 'Thank you.' and goes back to look at the fountain—not operating at nighttime—in front of him.