[ It's an extension of friendship that compelled Jamie to offer a room in Claire's mansion while John got on his feet. He did so with the assurance that his wife would be fine with it, that he knows her well enough that it shouldn't be an issue. Even though his friend doesn't yet know all the ways in which Jamie will be indebted to him, and even if their friendship isn't, in John's mind, where Jamie left it, it's still John Grey, and Jamie still owes him his life.
Everything he was able to do in North Carolina is thanks to John, in a way. Had he not intervened in Jamaica, Jamie could very well have met the end of a rope long ago.
Those aren't the thoughts that keep him awake tonight though, no, Jamie is sitting up in what he supposes is the sitting room of Claire's mansion (still too odd to call it theirs when she did all the work for it) drinking whiskey and writing, squinting at paper via candlelight as he tries to see without spectacles. Sleep hasn't been coming easy; Brianna has nightmares. Jamie has nightmares. Claire deserves sleep. So tonight it's Jamie listening for their daughter because he doesn't plan on closing his eyes anyway.
In his trousers and shirt, Jamie's hair is loose, wild curls around his head, feet bare, and at his terrible near-sightedness, curses under his breath before rubbing at his eyes. ]
[They're an odd collection, the people living in this mansion and shuffled into the master bedroom by Claire, but there's safety in numbers and, hopefully, some comfort to be found. She's worried about Bree, about Theon, about Jamie. That worry extends to John, too. Perhaps it would be less if he were older, but he's still a young man, and so that's what brings Claire over to his side.]
Hello, John. I hope you're not too bothered by getting a text through the device. I suppose I'll get right into it. There's a friend of mine I'd like you to meet, and I was hoping you wouldn't mind befriending him.
breaks in your inbox slowly and gently~
Everything he was able to do in North Carolina is thanks to John, in a way. Had he not intervened in Jamaica, Jamie could very well have met the end of a rope long ago.
Those aren't the thoughts that keep him awake tonight though, no, Jamie is sitting up in what he supposes is the sitting room of Claire's mansion (still too odd to call it theirs when she did all the work for it) drinking whiskey and writing, squinting at paper via candlelight as he tries to see without spectacles. Sleep hasn't been coming easy; Brianna has nightmares. Jamie has nightmares. Claire deserves sleep. So tonight it's Jamie listening for their daughter because he doesn't plan on closing his eyes anyway.
In his trousers and shirt, Jamie's hair is loose, wild curls around his head, feet bare, and at his terrible near-sightedness, curses under his breath before rubbing at his eyes. ]
Mhac na galla.
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FRASER INVASION; during the fog
How are you doing?
[Welcome to Olympia.]
ALL THESE FRASERS IN HIS INBOX
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