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#this is much delayed as a chomp through the remainders of my last batch of roses
jamiesfootball ยท 2 months
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"Smart lad." Roy nods in approval. He waves his mug at the chair beside him. "Sit down then."
The lad awkwardly folds his lanky limbs into the chair, perching nervously on the edge of his seat like a newborn foal.
Roy smirks behind his mug. "I don't bite."
Tyler winces. "No. Right, I know. You're just- intimidating? I guess? I dunno. I can never quite believe it when I'm over here. I mean, you're Roy Kent, and you served me tea this morning, and I'm here to help ruin your kitchen. Don't know why you haven't just kicked me out yet."
This, Roy thinks, is the real problem with Jamie bringing all these young players around. The ones who've only ever played under the Tartt era of therapy and big locker room apologies and endless second chances. They all come to Roy with their hearts on their sleeves, spouting the most ridiculous drivel with their entire chests and meaning it.
It's all Jamie's fault. Every starry-eyed kid with their future still hovering in the wings who comes to Roy with hope dripping from their hands cupped in offering. Each fresh-faced little muppet with kicks like battering rams and and words that sock him in the chest. Standing behind all of them is the unrepentant Mancunian who taught them it was okay to be like that in the first place.
Wouldn't matter now if Roy tried to kick Jamie out of his house; he'd still be followed by him everywhere he went.
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