Post by darlingjohn on Feb 17, 2012 20:29:24 GMT -5
Archibald Kensington absolutely adored tea.
It was a love instilled in him since childhood. His parents had always given him tea -- different brands and flavors, different sweetnesses, allowing him to choose his favorites. They had been so keen on his developing his own sense of things, and he had always loved it.
By the age of eight, he could make himself a cup of tea rather efficiently, and his parents trusted him with a kettle. Archie had been such a careful child, even early on.
He could still remember his parents' teas, from when he would make them for them some mornings when he was excited enough: Lady Grey for his mother, Gunpowder Green for his father. Archie had loved to do things for his parents. He had loved the way they smiled at him, how grateful they were, how much he could prove to them. It made him feel so grown-up.
What a joke.
He had refused to touch both of his parents' favorite flavors for seven years now. The scents were painful to him.
But regardless.
Nowadays, he was a fan of loose-leaf tea, and the small kitchen in his dormitory was the perfect place to make it. There was a small stove, just big enough for the kettle he had brought with him from England, and the quaint counter space made organizing his teas and sugars very simple. He was actually rather fond of honey in tea sometimes, especially on days when he was feeling under-the-weather. Which, interestingly enough, was most days.
Today, he was going to be indulging in one of his favorite social events -- afternoon tea with Addison Rowe. Aside from all the grown-up parties he had attended, late-night soirees and dinner theaters and God knew what else, he had had little time since his parents' death to just sit down and enjoy a cup of tea with someone else. Addison, as it turned out, not only enjoyed a good cuppa as much as Archie did, but was very good and very intelligent conversation.
Humming "Afternoon Tea" by The Kinks to himself, Archie put the kettle on and set to cleaning up his dorm, a task that was very easy, seeing as he was a very tidy young man. He was hoping that he and Addison could have some sort of rousing discussion about literature today -- after a recent English class, he found that he was absolutely disillusioned by the high level of stupidity latent in most American English students. Their grammar was atrocious. And furthermore, "learned"? Absolute poppycock. "Learnt" was the correct word.
Addison would, hopefully, restore a bit of his hope in the educational future of America. She usually did.
It was a love instilled in him since childhood. His parents had always given him tea -- different brands and flavors, different sweetnesses, allowing him to choose his favorites. They had been so keen on his developing his own sense of things, and he had always loved it.
By the age of eight, he could make himself a cup of tea rather efficiently, and his parents trusted him with a kettle. Archie had been such a careful child, even early on.
He could still remember his parents' teas, from when he would make them for them some mornings when he was excited enough: Lady Grey for his mother, Gunpowder Green for his father. Archie had loved to do things for his parents. He had loved the way they smiled at him, how grateful they were, how much he could prove to them. It made him feel so grown-up.
What a joke.
He had refused to touch both of his parents' favorite flavors for seven years now. The scents were painful to him.
But regardless.
Nowadays, he was a fan of loose-leaf tea, and the small kitchen in his dormitory was the perfect place to make it. There was a small stove, just big enough for the kettle he had brought with him from England, and the quaint counter space made organizing his teas and sugars very simple. He was actually rather fond of honey in tea sometimes, especially on days when he was feeling under-the-weather. Which, interestingly enough, was most days.
Today, he was going to be indulging in one of his favorite social events -- afternoon tea with Addison Rowe. Aside from all the grown-up parties he had attended, late-night soirees and dinner theaters and God knew what else, he had had little time since his parents' death to just sit down and enjoy a cup of tea with someone else. Addison, as it turned out, not only enjoyed a good cuppa as much as Archie did, but was very good and very intelligent conversation.
Humming "Afternoon Tea" by The Kinks to himself, Archie put the kettle on and set to cleaning up his dorm, a task that was very easy, seeing as he was a very tidy young man. He was hoping that he and Addison could have some sort of rousing discussion about literature today -- after a recent English class, he found that he was absolutely disillusioned by the high level of stupidity latent in most American English students. Their grammar was atrocious. And furthermore, "learned"? Absolute poppycock. "Learnt" was the correct word.
Addison would, hopefully, restore a bit of his hope in the educational future of America. She usually did.
