[as promised, he's waiting at the cafe in his warmest winter coat, a carton of eggnog in a brown paper bag tucked under his elbow, safe against his ribcage where he can't drop it. he's content to watch the city life go by, while he waits: his New York, he thinks fondly. it's good to be home.
when he spots someone who fits the description he was given, Norman raises a hand, two fingers in the air, and smiles brightly]
no subject
when he spots someone who fits the description he was given, Norman raises a hand, two fingers in the air, and smiles brightly]
Barns?