"I can't understand half of it but he's happy to yell it again when I'm a bit confused." He did think at first he was in Scotland but after hearing the locals and checking sign posts, he knew he wasn't. He was getting the hang of the accent. Slowly. "Sometimes he doesn't understand me anyway."
A northern and a scot, trying to make sense of what each other was saying - comedy gold, he was sure. He headed into the living room and dropped down onto the couch, it was actually pretty nice. He eyed up the TV and then looked at Holden. "Are you Scottish too?" He hadn't heard that accent before.
"Nah, my boy. I'm Irish. I'm an Irish traveller, really. Gypsy." Like Gideon might be somewhere in that heritage to have that nickname, though he doubted there was any Irish in it. Might be Roma, which he was certain Jon would have some choice words about. Whatever, not like that was surprising. He got the blanket ready for Gideon and gave him some pillows to try out, then actually just handed him the remote. There, that should ensure that teen would still be there in the morning after staying up way too long watching television.
"I'm Holden O'Shea. Not a drop of English in me and no Scottish either. Although my family would mind that one less, I reckon."
"Gypsy?" He looked at Holden curiously and then gave him an awkward half smile. "My dad is a gypsy. Calls himself the gypsy king." Now he had a place to live and all, no longer travelling, but he was allergic to work and refused to get a job, no matter how much the social went for him. Him and the other gypsy lads scammed around town. Everyone in the area knew his dad. Especially the kids at school.
No one thought he was worth anything, thanks to his dad. He didn't realise he had just admitted he was 100% not related to the very non-gypsy Mrs Applewhite. "My name is Gideon but, like, you know... they call call me Jip. Or Gypo. I prefer Jip, it's easier. Well, nah, I like Gideon but like... no one uses that. Not even my dad."
"Nice to meet you, Gideon. It's worth a lot, that. Having your own proper name. And Gideon's a nice name. Suits you." A lot better than Jip. Much, much better than Gypo. He wanted to get Gideon away from accepting those kind of names as soon as possible. "Don't think we really have any king around here, though I reckon my brother Jonathan may well be our leader."
For better or worse. "I'm not living that life though. Caravans and all that. I'm just here, working my job. With Rhia."
"Sounds nice. I'm just visiting my nan until the train comes back around. Then I'm gonna go back north." He had no idea what he was doing but he just didn't want to go home. His dad would kill him. He kissed a bloke, he got caught and his dad would fucking kill him. Maybe he just go and see if he could blag being 16 and get himself a flat.
"Thanks for the sofa." He really did appreciate it. He turned on the telly and started to skip through the channels. "I'll be quiet. Promise."
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A northern and a scot, trying to make sense of what each other was saying - comedy gold, he was sure. He headed into the living room and dropped down onto the couch, it was actually pretty nice. He eyed up the TV and then looked at Holden. "Are you Scottish too?" He hadn't heard that accent before.
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"I'm Holden O'Shea. Not a drop of English in me and no Scottish either. Although my family would mind that one less, I reckon."
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No one thought he was worth anything, thanks to his dad. He didn't realise he had just admitted he was 100% not related to the very non-gypsy Mrs Applewhite. "My name is Gideon but, like, you know... they call call me Jip. Or Gypo. I prefer Jip, it's easier. Well, nah, I like Gideon but like... no one uses that. Not even my dad."
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For better or worse. "I'm not living that life though. Caravans and all that. I'm just here, working my job. With Rhia."
no subject
"Thanks for the sofa." He really did appreciate it. He turned on the telly and started to skip through the channels. "I'll be quiet. Promise."