Jermaine follows Finn's lead, filling two plates with everything two dogs could want. Eggs, delicately flavored with fresh herbs. French toast and bacon, both laden with breakfast syrup. They may have been different in many ways, but food wasn't one of them.
In the time it took to gather their breakfast, Jermaine thought back to what else they'd faced today. It was strange, being nostalgic for things that had just happened, but he couldn't help it. In many ways, they felt like they'd happened years ago.
"Remember those breakfasts Mom would make?" Jermaine asks, scooting down the bench with both plates. Finn had carefully placed their statues together at the head of the table, and that seems good enough a spot for Jake's place setting. "She would wake up at the crack of dawn to make 'em. Jake used to wake up with her, it was like, their special thing."
Something that at the time, filled Jermaine with a sort of strange jealousy (as jealous as anyone could be over something he definitely didn't want to do). Now, that youthful perspective was gone. His voice was nostalgic and fond, memory calcified into a cherished one.
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In the time it took to gather their breakfast, Jermaine thought back to what else they'd faced today. It was strange, being nostalgic for things that had just happened, but he couldn't help it. In many ways, they felt like they'd happened years ago.
"Remember those breakfasts Mom would make?" Jermaine asks, scooting down the bench with both plates. Finn had carefully placed their statues together at the head of the table, and that seems good enough a spot for Jake's place setting. "She would wake up at the crack of dawn to make 'em. Jake used to wake up with her, it was like, their special thing."
Something that at the time, filled Jermaine with a sort of strange jealousy (as jealous as anyone could be over something he definitely didn't want to do). Now, that youthful perspective was gone. His voice was nostalgic and fond, memory calcified into a cherished one.