And Louis stopped afront of Micael, and Micael talked consequently atop his pale lungs.
"Why'd you stop, father?" asked Micael with the quite curiosity behind the pick of his words, and his eyes had wasted no time at all to look at the paintings where his father was into, and his eyes became quickly bewildered about the picture his father was seemingly interested as he was far from being unfamiliar with the pictures. He could not really recognize some, and even the technique used.
The colors were pale, but Micael knew that the message was there which made his father looked unto them with sticky eyes and his hands on his hat (not a sign of confusion, which Micael had hoped from the very start of his question). It was good, but his eyes and mind were never good enough to even appreciate such paintings, and so he asked his father and he indeed waited for an answer, then there was.
"Nothing, son. Just astonished by these paintings which Jacob had painted from his quite travel. He is quite of a success, I must say, right?" his father's hiding replied had reached Micael's ears, as his son knowing the fact he just wanted to look badass would be something very not quite of, so he lied much (the first time), and Micael followed a joke and laughed the latter part of his words with smiles right beneath his brows and above his chin: "Oh, I just thought that you're another one of those guys who would really to be praised of 'oh wow! You looked very beautiful tonight. Glad I got some quite time to be with you, mate, huh? Anyhow. What's the painting father?" he followed which sent his father's crotch somewhere above his neck, but he continued to talk and entertain Micael, painting-wise. He then first pointed at the painting at the very left which was the closest to Micael, and both of them looked at it, and by mere dull seconds, their eyes went stuck onto the very painting of welsh people who stood upon by one bench he could not seem to recognize. They wore jumpers and normal, plain white shirts and straw hat right above every man's head and clean fedoras above those of the lovely women's.
Though the background was quite normal, a plain wooden windmill right beside of a tall grain silo and a stack of hay (higher than Micael's height and the brown Arabian horse who had been standing for eternity beside the stack with itself leashed tight to the torn fence just afront of the horse) at the very right of the painting, but the beauty of the girls had made it so much remarkable and worth remembering. The other paintings, however were just the individual portraits and some places in Britain of which Micael was not familiar of, so he never bothered and talked to his father as his hand had started to fall from his hat.
"They may be waiting on us, father, shall we? It's taking you a very good time fixing your hat, I presume." His father replied quite gently while his head was turning towards him as his back had come straight and his hat looked like how he really wanted it: not too fixed and much more towards the back of his head. "Ah, yes, son. I am quite hungry and the chauffeurs outside are waiting for us to come in, too. Let's continue." Ag they continued walking past the reception where they had received generous greetings from the employees past them.
"Good evening, sir Micael and sir Louis. Welcome to the inn of Attaway's. Continue walking past the door way behind you as the dining table's waiting for your lovely presence," said one of the beautiful ladies which had aligned from behind the front desk, and caught Micael's attention fully while his father had only gotten into a nod. Micael started walking slower than the first and looked towards the lady who uttered such greeting. He could see a lady with a white dress shirt under her maroon-colored vest and a black hair lying upon the back of her shoulders down to her back, and he talked: "Oh, yes. Thank you, m'lady. I can't quite remember your name, what's that again?" He talked and asked briefly with his mouth while smiling with his lips and his hands gesturing independently from his thoughts, and soon after, the lady smiled, fixe his hair right behind one of her ears with her had gently and replied with his tinted lips to Micael: "Alexandra."
"That's a nice, beautiful name. Anyhow, have a nice night, darling," Micael replied as he waved towards the lady behind the elegant front desk and turned his back towards the desk, never giving him the chance too take a look at the quite blush from Alexandra's smooth cheeks, and he proceeded to the doorway as he heard his mother shouting from the other side of the wall, covering the murmurs of the ladies from the front desk and the thud from the chauffeurs' large boots: "Honey? Where are you? Jacob's waiting for quite the talk."
"I am here, mother," Micael replied as he walked briskly towards the doorway and one last step in, he could see how the room had been prepared for their presence, but he first did not look around for himself and went on to look at the very table where Jacob, his parents, and some people of which was not familiar into his eyesight had found their seats and the other long table right beside theirs were vacant, and he knew it was going to be the chauffeurs who would be occupying the seats of the vacant table, and so he proceeded on beside his mother's seat so tat he could be comfortable, and he found himself one as he moved the seat back, put himself in the front gently and sat upon the cushioned seat of the chair and rested and it had the rest.
...