#((they'd take her home and no matter how surprised or bewildered june-or the boys for that matter-would be))

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/707682277821497344

@beatingheart-bride

“I-I hated the rain too, when I was a boy,” Randall said as he sat down with his own hot mug to peer out the window, recalling the many, many squalls he had to sit out in with a certain lack of fondness. “The cold, the wet, I-I just hated it all...and the thunder and lightning didn’t help; it used to frighten me, and I couldn’t wait for it to be over.” He used to cower in the corner of his cage, hoping and praying it’d end soon.

“But, y-y’know, once I came here to the opera house? I-I didn’t mind them so much anymore,” he smiled shyly. “Sleeping up here in the attic, y-you’d think it’d just frighten me even more, but y’know, i-it actually...didn’t. Being up here, my own little home, dry, a-a roof over my head...i-it wasn’t so bad, I-I found. I-I find the rain...comforting, i-in a way, listening to it come down...”

One would think that being much higher up and therefore closer to the storm would have the opposite affect, but to Randall, somehow, it became almost soothing to hear at night: The tapping of the rain on the roof and the glass of the window, the rumble of thunder overhead, the occasional illumination of lightning...it was like a performance, like an opera of nature-the rain became the chorus, the thunder the orchestra...and the lightning the dancers. And that, to Randall, was soothing.

“I’ve spent many a sleepless night up with a storm...i-it sort of keeps me company, in a way, while I work on my libretto. It’s...nice, actually.”