Harry had almost forgotten about Mr.Pickles, where would he end up? Probably at the bottom of a landfill, with everything else that was only valuable in sentiment. Harry had a considerable sum of money in the bank and no family to receive it. With no outstanding debt to his name what was the point in liquidating his estate?
He was trying very hard not to be bitter, or let his emotions get the better of him. Neither the twisting of his stomach or the tears prickling in his eyes served any purpose. He couldn't blame the Kingsmen or state for following procedure.
Honestly, he could only be angry at himself.
It was his own damn fault. Truth be told Harry couldn't have given a fuck what happened with his money, house or stuffed dog before he died. Being dead, whether Mr.Pickles ended up in a dumpster or on Merlin's coffee table, would no longer be his concern. Or so he had wrongly assumed.
Hindsight being 20/20, Harry did give a fuck.
"Don't be ridiculous! It was only painted last year." He pinches the brow of his nose and squeezes, grimacing behind his hand at the sharpness of his raised voice. There was a time and place for hysterics but it wasn't in front of Eggsy and certainly not in public.
"Ah, thank you." He almost sighed with relief when the scotch arrived, "Cheers."
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Harry had almost forgotten about Mr.Pickles, where would he end up? Probably at the bottom of a landfill, with everything else that was only valuable in sentiment. Harry had a considerable sum of money in the bank and no family to receive it. With no outstanding debt to his name what was the point in liquidating his estate?
He was trying very hard not to be bitter, or let his emotions get the better of him. Neither the twisting of his stomach or the tears prickling in his eyes served any purpose. He couldn't blame the Kingsmen or state for following procedure.
Honestly, he could only be angry at himself.
It was his own damn fault. Truth be told Harry couldn't have given a fuck what happened with his money, house or stuffed dog before he died. Being dead, whether Mr.Pickles ended up in a dumpster or on Merlin's coffee table, would no longer be his concern. Or so he had wrongly assumed.
Hindsight being 20/20, Harry did give a fuck.
"Don't be ridiculous! It was only painted last year." He pinches the brow of his nose and squeezes, grimacing behind his hand at the sharpness of his raised voice. There was a time and place for hysterics but it wasn't in front of Eggsy and certainly not in public.
"Ah, thank you." He almost sighed with relief when the scotch arrived, "Cheers."