Jacob then stood up straight with his back bent-not and soon after, Rebecca replied with the quite tame-y voice of her own coming out from her kind mouth, and it did. "It is really mine. I really bet that this place will give me amnesia about being an Australian. From here outside, it smells nice and quite indulging to enter, and I am really excited to try some of your food. Your recipes?" and Jacob followed another right after Rebecca's lips started to kiss each other after talking.
"It is mine, m'lady. I really think that one food critique just like you as dear friend Louis had written one paper coming from Melbourne that you're one cook to be feared, I presume. And your son?" he followed with the quite question right beneath his forehead which fell above the lobe of Micael's ears, and sooner he approached Jacob while trying to walk very normally with the sole of his right foot even barely touching the very sidewalk. He stepped one of limbs after another, then another, and another upon another until he was beside of his mother, a mere two inches from his left feet his mother's and the looked with his eye into Jacob, and he let one of hands floating around the air of the Britain streets, and talked lightly with his voice, and the lips soon separate on their own and glided smoothly.
"G'day, mate. A very Australian of a greeting, doesn't it not?" said Micael and laughed and smiled at the latter with his eyes, cheeks, and lips while his other hand was on his hair, attempting to fix it as a quick agile breeze of the northern winds passed at the very front of the inn with stray papers being drawn upon the current of the turbulent-like motion of the breeze, and he kept fixing his hair until Jacob had finally smiled back willingly with his mouth and his eyes half closed as he was (some said that one of his very grand-grandfathers was an Asian, but no one had really confirmed that scuttlebutts, and he quite forgotten the mirage-like archive of which he had never used to bother, no budget it at least the very inch, and so did he) and he grabbed Micael's hand hanging in the air abruptly and shook it, while uttering something quite remarkable into Micael's ears:
"You are indeed Micael, m'lord. Your father said to me that you are quite young to travel overseas but no one will care about your age, trust me. I know someone, around 18, who was married to a woman as young as me, and guess what? I am forty-two. I wonder how fun would that be on a date night, right, Louis?" Jacob's eyes were locked into the smiling of Micael's, then winced, and turned his head about the neck and looked at Louis, and laughed in the latter. Their hands shook no more, and Micael replied with the quite Jacob had cracked right in front of his very face, and he was laughing.
Seriously laughing like he had never heard such a worthy joke to laugh unto since the very start of their voyage up to the very end, and his mouth spewed words right into Jacob while the sober side of his head was into his father.
"I mean, age is nothing when it's unknown, so, that may be something," and he laughed. Jacob then quickly stood up as he grabbed his crotch back on his thinking, and uttered quite related into his and Louis' talk-abouts months since. "Anyhow, welcome to the Inn of Attaway's. The room you have reserved almost died waiting. Our cooks also prepared for this one. So, shall we? There's a lot to think of outside, and talk, of course. Especially at Micael's school, we got a little bomb to detonate inside, mate," Jacob followed as he encouraged the Pratt family to come with him and finally take a look inside his family's inn which had stood for a very long time, and the family agreed upon (as if one would ever disagree).
"What about the chauffeurs, father?" Micael asked his father as he noticed him wearing his hat back into his head, and he answered quite quickly, "Them? They're just waiting for us to come first inside. Shall we? They're hungry, too." "And as if driving horses was never tiring," followed his mother, and the went forth in the inn.
And past the entrance of the inn, they walked gracefully and one by one. They went. One after another as the entrance was wide enough so the outside could see but it was merely wide enough to fit one person all throughout its span, and so they continued. First the Jacob Attaway, and next was the woman with an old fedora and an umbrel-la which was being held by his gloved hand and her quite skinny purse on the other. Her dress was long enough that lifting it was never an option for her, and she could walk elegantly and peacefully with her heels without being reminded of the same way over and over and over. Behind her, was Louis who had become insecure of himself about lifting his hat once more (He really wanted to look best among everyone else in the dining hall for no even quite diminishing reason) and other hand of his was locked into fixing it while looking at the side of the way where framed paintings had adorned it.
Some looked very familiar, at least to Louis, like Welsh people, Southampton port, and especially the quite prestige Buckingham palace. From the very paintings, he could see a quite figure of his very head with the littlest of detail, and from there he then stopped.
...