“No, no…I’m fine, I’m fine…you haven’t got a spare set of lungs I might borrow, or perhaps a sturdier constitution…wouldn’t you like to attend my father’s ball in my place and let me avoid it? A wardrobe change, a bit of practice waltzing, a lemon ice or a chocolate éclair…”
“I don’t think I can be you, m’lord,” Ryan sighed, and got an arm under Colby for support. “No one else could be. Tell me about frogs while we get you up to the house.”
Colby laughed, straightened up, got feet under himself. Found balance. Gripped Ryan’s shoulder in appreciation. Ryan took the journal and notes away from him along with the pencil. Carrying as much as possible, even if the weight was insignificant.
They went up the hill slowly, bathed in sun. The cameras followed.