HOME | DD

Description

Note: these are all posts that were originally created and uploaded for instagram in 2020/2021 and have been sitting waiting to be uploaded on here for months lmao. May not necessarily be representative of my current content and they take place before any other story posts in other galleries.
---
TW: Mentions of drug abuse

"He was born on April 28th, 2010. His name is Elliot, he has your eyes and my freckles, and is the sweetest child I have ever met."

The ink had started to wear off of the letter Abigail had left on the table last year, faded from Lance thumbing the corners into dog ears, tracing the blue ballpoint pen with soft fingertips. When he'd came back from the meeting he'd tucked it away in his bedside table drawer at Hawthorn Hill, and it had mostly stayed there bar the occasions he brought it out to glance over the words he knew by heart now.

"He loves museums, dinosaurs, and reading."

How do you work those into a conversation anyway? 'Hello, child, been to any good museums lately? Do you prefer The Guardian or The Times? What's your thoughts on British Museums and artefacts taken from colonies and whether or not they should be returned?'

Lance wasn't good with kids. Well, he was okay with Stina when she was younger, and Val's siblings seemed to like him enough, but that was different. That wasn't your child you accidentally abandoned for a decade. That wasn't Elliot.

"But most importantly, he loves asking questions, and the older he gets the more he wants to know about you."

Him. Lance Visser, disaster extraordinaire, full time whore and part time villain of other people's stories. A mostly-ex drug addict, cryptocurrency enthusiast, father to one very tall cat and newly discovered absent father to one child. That was him, and when you laid it out, there was no way he was ever going to be anything other than a disappointment to this kid.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" Val asked, leaning against the doorway as he turned to smile weakly at her.

"Frankly, I would rather use a toaster as a teabag and drink the water than actually go through with this."

Val snorted, rolling her eyes as she made her way to sit beside him on the bed, smoothing out the dark sheets and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm really proud of you. I know this is terrifying, but you're doing it, and that's what matters. You said you wanted to fix things, right? I think this is the second step. First was kicking the drugs, and now is kicking the 'deadbeat dad' title." Val murmured.

"Hey- I didn't choose to be a deadbeat dad, I didn't know he existed until last year and my immediate response was to go on a week long gay bender with Lucien so I needed to get my shit together-"

"Lance, I'm kidding. I know. Yeah, you did go on a bender bender-"

"That's what you're calling it?"

"Yes. You did that, fell off in front of a stadium of people and probably only avoided a drug test because Cher likes you, and then realised you had a problem. For the first time in your whole fucking life, you acknowledged that. And you got help, Lance. And now, you're in a better place, and you're going to meet your son, because you've stopped running from your problems."

Had he? Or had he just fooled people into thinking he didn't? It was... an odd feeling. He wanted to take it as a compliment, that she thought he was doing better, but the honest truth of it was closing one can of worms just led to opening ten others. Turns out to actually stop using substances as a crutch you needed to develop 'healthy coping mechanisms' and 'learn to deal with your trauma in a better way', or whatever other foreign concepts his therapist and outpatient workers had told him. It wasn't like he thought getting better would be easy, but he didn't appreciate that cravings didn't just... disappear once you stopped using. Sometimes he couldn't sleep, feeling it rise in his throat and scratch away for what felt like days. Hawthorn Hill had been a better place for him to stay for the last few months rather than his empty flat in London because at least when they hit he could wander down to the stables and try and distract himself, finding a more peaceful place to try and surf it out. Countless nights had been spent in Boheme's stable, the mare always accepting if not confused, settling her head on his shoulder as he grit his teeth and waited for it to pass. Val, as to be expected, was a saint. There was no doubt that he wouldn't be able to even attempt it without her, never judgemental, never mean, but always one with wise words.

"... Why do I even pay a therapist when I have you?"

"Because then I'd relate too much to Penelope Scott's Mommy Fwiend." Val grinned, shoving into him with her shoulder. Lance snorted, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hand.

"When are they coming?" Val asked quietly with a glance at her watch.

"Two. So... ten minutes. Fucking hell."

"You'll be fine. I'm here, and so's Morag, and you're just going to distract the kid with horses anyway."

Originally, Lance and Elliot's mum Abigail had decided they should do it somewhere public, go bowling or something like that, but the second Elliot had found out that Lance had horses it was game over. Apparently he'd been so excited to meet them, a true city kid who'd never had any experience of them past the Horse Guards Parade and the occasional police horse, and what was Lance going to do, tell him he couldn't?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and in that moment he could feel his heart drop to his feet.

'Abigail - Mobile'

Val gave him a thumbs up, mouthing an 'answer it' at him as his thumb hovered over the answer button for a few seconds before hitting it.

"Hi, sorry, we're a little early, M4 wasn't as busy as I thought it would be. We're at the gate?"

"Uh - cool-"

Words Lance, use your fucking words you useless excuse for a fucking- shit, that's not what CBT teaches is it?

"Oh! Someone just let us in. I'll talk to you in a sec."

He couldn't even stutter out an 'okay' before hanging up, hands shaking. Val stood up from the bed, glancing out of his bedroom window to the English hills past it for a moment before laying her hands over his.

"This must remind you of Chile-" Lance choked, his laugh coming out more as a yelp. Haha, detox, laugh Val, because what else are you meant to do in these situations?

"You'll be fine. Let's go."

It was a miracle he even made it down the stairs with his white knuckle grip on the banister, but against all odds, falling on his face was avoided; though the sound of tyres on gravel outside almost made him wish he had, lights out for the near future-

"Open the door, Visser. Can't put it off any longer." Val sighed, yanking an empty crisp packet Addison presumably left off of the kitchen table and into the bin.

"You sure?"

"Get out."

So he did. It was a gorgeous day, all too bright for him but objectively one people enjoy, and the sun positively bounced off Abigail's car in the driveway.

He felt like he was going to die. Or throw up. Or cry. Maybe all three at once.

"Hey, Lance, it's uh... good to see you." Abigail smiled weakly whilst smoothing down her tawny hair. She was a better person than him for even being here after Lance accused her of only telling him about Elliot for the child support, but in her words when he approached her a few months later: "It was a big change, and I didn't expect you to jump with joy, nobody did. Just glad you changed your mind."

"Hey, Abigail."

The pair stood for a moment enveloped in an awkward sort of silence, one that can only be carved out by a decade of accidental child abandonment.

"Hi! It's been a long time. Val Cortez, we were in A-Level history together?"

God, Lance would die for Val.

Abigail turned her attention to Val, a smile growing as she shook her hand.

"Yeah! Miss Kennedy's class? You look so similar, it's like you haven't aged-"

"God, thank you, but you are glowing, where did you get that dress?"

"H&M! It was on sale, too-"

Lance stood a foot away, unsure of his place in this conversation but hype-aware of the child in the back of the Honda.

"God- sorry- uh, child lock, let me get the door-" Abigail laughed apologetically, picking at the side of her earring, and Lance realised he clearly wasn't the only one nervous about how this would go. She pulled at the door of the silver car, and the kid - Elliot - hopped out, glancing around with wide eyes, taking in his surroundings with a hesitant gaze.

"Hey, El- this is Lance. He's your dad."

He was going to die. Again. Over and over again.

Elliot glanced up at him with tense shoulders, cautiously putting a small hand out, and god - those blue eyes. This was his kid. Even if he hadn't done a paternity test, he'd have had no doubt after seeing him in person.

Lance crouched slightly, gently shaking his hand with a lopsided smile.

"Hey, Elliot. Nice to meet you."

Should he have said that? Should he have said something else? Should he turn around and just fucking leg it the other way?

"... Hi. I like your cat, she's very tall."

In the midst of the awkwardness Cleo had wound her way against Lance's leg, her long body stretched out towards Elliot to inspect the newcomer. He giggled as she touched her nose against his palm, and the tightness in Lance's chest started to dissipate.

"She's cool. Her name is Cleo. She's friendly, just curious."

Elliot grinned as he stroked down her spotted back, and Lance hoped to god this wouldn't be the day Cleo decided to enact revenge for years of Lance dressing her up in absurd Halloween costumes.

"Do you want to come meet the horses?" Val suggested from behind them, waving slightly at Elliot before introducing herself as his friend and the one who took care of the ponies. She'd always had a way with kids, probably because she'd become the obligatory older sister babysitter, but she carried an ease with them Lance would never have. Elliot chatted away to her softly as she led him to the stables, occasionally glancing back to Lance and Abigail before turning his attention back to Hawthorn Hill.

"-So this is where we keep our horses at night, and when we bring them in to ride them. Right, Lance?" Val said, opening the door to the main stables. Heads popped over stall doors to say hello to the new arrivals and Elliot's face lit up, cautious gaze turning into a broad smile. He glanced back at Abigail, a look Lance could only interpret as having the same energy as saying "horses!" whenever you pass them driving.

"... Could I please pet one?" He asked politely, glancing around.

"Sure." Lance responded, glancing at his options. Boheme might kill a child, Kero would kill a child, Cal was a little unpredictable in general, and they hadn't had Atlanta long enough to work out if she was kid safe, especially not a kid who knew nothing about horses. So, he settled on the obvious choice, the ever polite broodmare Chess. She was Boheme's full sister with half the talent but double the patience and while Lance had never taken to her, the rest of the staff had.

"This is Chess. She's really friendly. Loves polos."

"Polos?" Elliot giggled, gently reaching up to pet the mare's nose.

"Yeah, horses love mints. Uh, here, just keep your palm flat-" Lance placed a Polo mint on Elliot's palm, letting him reach over to Chess who snuffled it up without a question, sending Elliot into another fit of laughter.

"She licked me!"

Beside him, Lance could feel the tension drop from Abigail's shoulders, and maybe his own. The horses were a good distraction, less intense than sitting at a restaurant and being forced to talk to your glorified sperm donor.

Elliot paused, playing with the zipper on his jacket for a moment. "... Do you think I could maybe ride one one day?"

"You could ride one today, if you wanted." Lance stated, far quicker than he'd been meaning to. Is that even true? Why the fuck did he just say that without even asking Abigail?

Elliot lit up, looking at Abigail with a badly-contained excitement.

"Mum? Can I? Please?"

Abigail shot Lance a look before turning back to Elliot and Lance knew there was no way she could say no to his hopeful gaze. He was almost vibrating with excitement, the earlier shyness starting to fade away, and Abigail just nodded.

"If you have a helmet and things, then..."

Val popped her head out from the tack room with a reassuring smile. "We do! My sister's around his age, a little taller, but she has a couple helmets. You want to come with me, Elliot? I'll find one that fits you. Your dinosaur wellies are the perfect thing to wear too- Lance, deal with the horse."

Why did he ask all the grooms to bugger off for an hour while he did this? Reluctantly, he lifted Chess' old General Purpose Albion off of it's rack, slipping the bridle over the other arm and heading back to Chess as Val tried on the helmets to find the perfect fit. Thank god she was here, he wouldn't have even remembered the helmets Carmen left in his silent frenzy.

"Wait, he's riding her? She's huge, don't you have something smaller?" Abigail questioned, her poorly-concealed maternal instincts bubbling over. Lance was surprised it hadn't happened earlier, honestly.

"We do, but I promise you, Chess is infinitely safer. Ponies are closer to hell." Lance muttered, easing the bridle over her ears without any fuss. She'd always been an easy horse to handle, tacking her up was no exception - there was no other horse here he'd trust as much with a child.

"We'll pop him on for twenty minutes, take a stroll outside, it's nice land." Lance stated as he did up her girth, hoping he could quell whatever Abigail was anxious about just a little.

"We get to go outside?" Elliot questioned, a newly fastened hat firm on his head.

"Yeah, we'll all go for a walk."

Lance glanced up at Abigail, hoping to god he hadn't suggested something awful, but she just smiled tersely and nodded, stroking Chess' nose with her forefinger as Val left her to show Elliot how to get on from the mounting block.

"You're going to have to loop those stirrup leathers." Lance snorted, Elliot's small legs not quite fitting in the stirrups thanks to the fact Chess was shaped like an actual barrel. The kid was beaming, looking down before back at Chess' bay neck, patting her on both sides as Val fixed the leathers.

"Hey, let me show you how to hold them properly." Lance started, readjusting Elliot's fingers over the reins with a lump in his throat he tried to swallow one too many times. The kid took it in without question, immediately fixing his other hand, grinning down at them lie he'd accomplished something incredible.

"You ready to go?" Lance asked, looking up at Elliot, his own blue eyes blinking back at him.

"Yeah. I’m ready to go.”

“… So, I heard you like dinosaurs?“
---
Ref: CalyHoney

Description

Note: these are all posts that were originally created and uploaded for instagram in 2020/2021 and have been sitting waiting to be uploaded on here for months lmao. May not necessarily be representative of my current content and they take place before any other story posts in other galleries.
---
TW: Mentions of drug abuse

"He was born on April 28th, 2010. His name is Elliot, he has your eyes and my freckles, and is the sweetest child I have ever met."

The ink had started to wear off of the letter Abigail had left on the table last year, faded from Lance thumbing the corners into dog ears, tracing the blue ballpoint pen with soft fingertips. When he'd came back from the meeting he'd tucked it away in his bedside table drawer at Hawthorn Hill, and it had mostly stayed there bar the occasions he brought it out to glance over the words he knew by heart now.

"He loves museums, dinosaurs, and reading."

How do you work those into a conversation anyway? 'Hello, child, been to any good museums lately? Do you prefer The Guardian or The Times? What's your thoughts on British Museums and artefacts taken from colonies and whether or not they should be returned?'

Lance wasn't good with kids. Well, he was okay with Stina when she was younger, and Val's siblings seemed to like him enough, but that was different. That wasn't your child you accidentally abandoned for a decade. That wasn't Elliot.

"But most importantly, he loves asking questions, and the older he gets the more he wants to know about you."

Him. Lance Visser, disaster extraordinaire, full time whore and part time villain of other people's stories. A mostly-ex drug addict, cryptocurrency enthusiast, father to one very tall cat and newly discovered absent father to one child. That was him, and when you laid it out, there was no way he was ever going to be anything other than a disappointment to this kid.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" Val asked, leaning against the doorway as he turned to smile weakly at her.

"Frankly, I would rather use a toaster as a teabag and drink the water than actually go through with this."

Val snorted, rolling her eyes as she made her way to sit beside him on the bed, smoothing out the dark sheets and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm really proud of you. I know this is terrifying, but you're doing it, and that's what matters. You said you wanted to fix things, right? I think this is the second step. First was kicking the drugs, and now is kicking the 'deadbeat dad' title." Val murmured.

"Hey- I didn't choose to be a deadbeat dad, I didn't know he existed until last year and my immediate response was to go on a week long gay bender with Lucien so I needed to get my shit together-"

"Lance, I'm kidding. I know. Yeah, you did go on a bender bender-"

"That's what you're calling it?"

"Yes. You did that, fell off in front of a stadium of people and probably only avoided a drug test because Cher likes you, and then realised you had a problem. For the first time in your whole fucking life, you acknowledged that. And you got help, Lance. And now, you're in a better place, and you're going to meet your son, because you've stopped running from your problems."

Had he? Or had he just fooled people into thinking he didn't? It was... an odd feeling. He wanted to take it as a compliment, that she thought he was doing better, but the honest truth of it was closing one can of worms just led to opening ten others. Turns out to actually stop using substances as a crutch you needed to develop 'healthy coping mechanisms' and 'learn to deal with your trauma in a better way', or whatever other foreign concepts his therapist and outpatient workers had told him. It wasn't like he thought getting better would be easy, but he didn't appreciate that cravings didn't just... disappear once you stopped using. Sometimes he couldn't sleep, feeling it rise in his throat and scratch away for what felt like days. Hawthorn Hill had been a better place for him to stay for the last few months rather than his empty flat in London because at least when they hit he could wander down to the stables and try and distract himself, finding a more peaceful place to try and surf it out. Countless nights had been spent in Boheme's stable, the mare always accepting if not confused, settling her head on his shoulder as he grit his teeth and waited for it to pass. Val, as to be expected, was a saint. There was no doubt that he wouldn't be able to even attempt it without her, never judgemental, never mean, but always one with wise words.

"... Why do I even pay a therapist when I have you?"

"Because then I'd relate too much to Penelope Scott's Mommy Fwiend." Val grinned, shoving into him with her shoulder. Lance snorted, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hand.

"When are they coming?" Val asked quietly with a glance at her watch.

"Two. So... ten minutes. Fucking hell."

"You'll be fine. I'm here, and so's Morag, and you're just going to distract the kid with horses anyway."

Originally, Lance and Elliot's mum Abigail had decided they should do it somewhere public, go bowling or something like that, but the second Elliot had found out that Lance had horses it was game over. Apparently he'd been so excited to meet them, a true city kid who'd never had any experience of them past the Horse Guards Parade and the occasional police horse, and what was Lance going to do, tell him he couldn't?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and in that moment he could feel his heart drop to his feet.

'Abigail - Mobile'

Val gave him a thumbs up, mouthing an 'answer it' at him as his thumb hovered over the answer button for a few seconds before hitting it.

"Hi, sorry, we're a little early, M4 wasn't as busy as I thought it would be. We're at the gate?"

"Uh - cool-"

Words Lance, use your fucking words you useless excuse for a fucking- shit, that's not what CBT teaches is it?

"Oh! Someone just let us in. I'll talk to you in a sec."

He couldn't even stutter out an 'okay' before hanging up, hands shaking. Val stood up from the bed, glancing out of his bedroom window to the English hills past it for a moment before laying her hands over his.

"This must remind you of Chile-" Lance choked, his laugh coming out more as a yelp. Haha, detox, laugh Val, because what else are you meant to do in these situations?

"You'll be fine. Let's go."

It was a miracle he even made it down the stairs with his white knuckle grip on the banister, but against all odds, falling on his face was avoided; though the sound of tyres on gravel outside almost made him wish he had, lights out for the near future-

"Open the door, Visser. Can't put it off any longer." Val sighed, yanking an empty crisp packet Addison presumably left off of the kitchen table and into the bin.

"You sure?"

"Get out."

So he did. It was a gorgeous day, all too bright for him but objectively one people enjoy, and the sun positively bounced off Abigail's car in the driveway.

He felt like he was going to die. Or throw up. Or cry. Maybe all three at once.

"Hey, Lance, it's uh... good to see you." Abigail smiled weakly whilst smoothing down her tawny hair. She was a better person than him for even being here after Lance accused her of only telling him about Elliot for the child support, but in her words when he approached her a few months later: "It was a big change, and I didn't expect you to jump with joy, nobody did. Just glad you changed your mind."

"Hey, Abigail."

The pair stood for a moment enveloped in an awkward sort of silence, one that can only be carved out by a decade of accidental child abandonment.

"Hi! It's been a long time. Val Cortez, we were in A-Level history together?"

God, Lance would die for Val.

Abigail turned her attention to Val, a smile growing as she shook her hand.

"Yeah! Miss Kennedy's class? You look so similar, it's like you haven't aged-"

"God, thank you, but you are glowing, where did you get that dress?"

"H&M! It was on sale, too-"

Lance stood a foot away, unsure of his place in this conversation but hype-aware of the child in the back of the Honda.

"God- sorry- uh, child lock, let me get the door-" Abigail laughed apologetically, picking at the side of her earring, and Lance realised he clearly wasn't the only one nervous about how this would go. She pulled at the door of the silver car, and the kid - Elliot - hopped out, glancing around with wide eyes, taking in his surroundings with a hesitant gaze.

"Hey, El- this is Lance. He's your dad."

He was going to die. Again. Over and over again.

Elliot glanced up at him with tense shoulders, cautiously putting a small hand out, and god - those blue eyes. This was his kid. Even if he hadn't done a paternity test, he'd have had no doubt after seeing him in person.

Lance crouched slightly, gently shaking his hand with a lopsided smile.

"Hey, Elliot. Nice to meet you."

Should he have said that? Should he have said something else? Should he turn around and just fucking leg it the other way?

"... Hi. I like your cat, she's very tall."

In the midst of the awkwardness Cleo had wound her way against Lance's leg, her long body stretched out towards Elliot to inspect the newcomer. He giggled as she touched her nose against his palm, and the tightness in Lance's chest started to dissipate.

"She's cool. Her name is Cleo. She's friendly, just curious."

Elliot grinned as he stroked down her spotted back, and Lance hoped to god this wouldn't be the day Cleo decided to enact revenge for years of Lance dressing her up in absurd Halloween costumes.

"Do you want to come meet the horses?" Val suggested from behind them, waving slightly at Elliot before introducing herself as his friend and the one who took care of the ponies. She'd always had a way with kids, probably because she'd become the obligatory older sister babysitter, but she carried an ease with them Lance would never have. Elliot chatted away to her softly as she led him to the stables, occasionally glancing back to Lance and Abigail before turning his attention back to Hawthorn Hill.

"-So this is where we keep our horses at night, and when we bring them in to ride them. Right, Lance?" Val said, opening the door to the main stables. Heads popped over stall doors to say hello to the new arrivals and Elliot's face lit up, cautious gaze turning into a broad smile. He glanced back at Abigail, a look Lance could only interpret as having the same energy as saying "horses!" whenever you pass them driving.

"... Could I please pet one?" He asked politely, glancing around.

"Sure." Lance responded, glancing at his options. Boheme might kill a child, Kero would kill a child, Cal was a little unpredictable in general, and they hadn't had Atlanta long enough to work out if she was kid safe, especially not a kid who knew nothing about horses. So, he settled on the obvious choice, the ever polite broodmare Chess. She was Boheme's full sister with half the talent but double the patience and while Lance had never taken to her, the rest of the staff had.

"This is Chess. She's really friendly. Loves polos."

"Polos?" Elliot giggled, gently reaching up to pet the mare's nose.

"Yeah, horses love mints. Uh, here, just keep your palm flat-" Lance placed a Polo mint on Elliot's palm, letting him reach over to Chess who snuffled it up without a question, sending Elliot into another fit of laughter.

"She licked me!"

Beside him, Lance could feel the tension drop from Abigail's shoulders, and maybe his own. The horses were a good distraction, less intense than sitting at a restaurant and being forced to talk to your glorified sperm donor.

Elliot paused, playing with the zipper on his jacket for a moment. "... Do you think I could maybe ride one one day?"

"You could ride one today, if you wanted." Lance stated, far quicker than he'd been meaning to. Is that even true? Why the fuck did he just say that without even asking Abigail?

Elliot lit up, looking at Abigail with a badly-contained excitement.

"Mum? Can I? Please?"

Abigail shot Lance a look before turning back to Elliot and Lance knew there was no way she could say no to his hopeful gaze. He was almost vibrating with excitement, the earlier shyness starting to fade away, and Abigail just nodded.

"If you have a helmet and things, then..."

Val popped her head out from the tack room with a reassuring smile. "We do! My sister's around his age, a little taller, but she has a couple helmets. You want to come with me, Elliot? I'll find one that fits you. Your dinosaur wellies are the perfect thing to wear too- Lance, deal with the horse."

Why did he ask all the grooms to bugger off for an hour while he did this? Reluctantly, he lifted Chess' old General Purpose Albion off of it's rack, slipping the bridle over the other arm and heading back to Chess as Val tried on the helmets to find the perfect fit. Thank god she was here, he wouldn't have even remembered the helmets Carmen left in his silent frenzy.

"Wait, he's riding her? She's huge, don't you have something smaller?" Abigail questioned, her poorly-concealed maternal instincts bubbling over. Lance was surprised it hadn't happened earlier, honestly.

"We do, but I promise you, Chess is infinitely safer. Ponies are closer to hell." Lance muttered, easing the bridle over her ears without any fuss. She'd always been an easy horse to handle, tacking her up was no exception - there was no other horse here he'd trust as much with a child.

"We'll pop him on for twenty minutes, take a stroll outside, it's nice land." Lance stated as he did up her girth, hoping he could quell whatever Abigail was anxious about just a little.

"We get to go outside?" Elliot questioned, a newly fastened hat firm on his head.

"Yeah, we'll all go for a walk."

Lance glanced up at Abigail, hoping to god he hadn't suggested something awful, but she just smiled tersely and nodded, stroking Chess' nose with her forefinger as Val left her to show Elliot how to get on from the mounting block.

"You're going to have to loop those stirrup leathers." Lance snorted, Elliot's small legs not quite fitting in the stirrups thanks to the fact Chess was shaped like an actual barrel. The kid was beaming, looking down before back at Chess' bay neck, patting her on both sides as Val fixed the leathers.

"Hey, let me show you how to hold them properly." Lance started, readjusting Elliot's fingers over the reins with a lump in his throat he tried to swallow one too many times. The kid took it in without question, immediately fixing his other hand, grinning down at them lie he'd accomplished something incredible.

"You ready to go?" Lance asked, looking up at Elliot, his own blue eyes blinking back at him.

"Yeah. I’m ready to go.”

“… So, I heard you like dinosaurs?“
---
Ref: CalyHoney