Work Text:
Screaming whistles signalled tea time.
Steam curled out his teacup, wisps waltzing up impossibly high. Humming, Simon blew before tasting.
Still bitter.
Rolling his eyes, he shifted and reached out a hand.
Hooked perfectly, a falling body hung, snotty from screaming. Simon tutted, searching his pockets.
“Aha! Costa sugar! Perfect.”
Swiping the packet, he let go, ignoring his cry.
“Thanks, old chap!”
Grinning, he sweetened his tea, watching the family roped into ‘recreational construction diving’. Simon chuckled, waving ‘bye-bye’ to the mother wailing past.
This time, he let the sky end somewhere - wells of wet concrete were more than kind~