But it was moments like these that made everything worth it for him. Whatever he was doing when he was a hero was not comparable to being able to get one-on-one with a bright young mind and talk about-
"I think our currency system is shit."
Wilbur Soot visits the lovely, quaint village of Lilac.
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NINE YEARS LATER
THE COFFEE MACHINE WAS SOMEHOW BROKEN.
Wilbur, expecting his daily cup of coffee, instead encountered boiling water spitting out of the spout at high speeds, before dying off and the machine shutting down. He smacks the plastic-coated appliance, one, two, three times for good measure before accepting defeat and running a hand through his hair.
Three steps into his morning routine and he's already stressed enough to last the day.
Still clad in his tasteful pajamas, maroon and black flannel pants paired with a simple white tee bearing the logo of local band, he dumps out the hot water from the pot into the sink, wondering how the hell it missed the coffee grounds sitting patiently in the filter.
"Fundy!" He calls out, setting his empty mug upside down on the modest laminate countertop, textured to look like high-end marble. "Did you do something with the coffee machine?"
"NO!" His son's reply is dampened by the floor between them, Fundy presumably getting ready for school in his room upstairs.
"Like that's believable," Wilbur mutters, opening the breadbox to reveal a dozen bagels. He picks out two to pop in the toaster oven. Plain for him, cinnamon raisin for Fundy.
While that's going, he gets the rest of breakfast ready; cream cheese, fruit cups, and orange juice, all from the very dumb white fridge.
Fundy comes downstairs as the toaster "dings" , opening the toaster oven and grabbing his bagel with his bare hands, immediately regretting it as he drops the hot baked good on the counter.
Wilbur wordlessly slides over a plate, which Fundy accepts gratefully.
"Thanks," He parks himself at one of the two chairs making up their dining table, Wilbur joining him, though without his own food.
"Not as much of a problem as the coffee machine."
Fundy just hums while slathering his breakfast in cream cheese, "Even if it is my fault, which it is not," He emphasizes, "I can't fix it now."
"You don't want to fix it now"
Fundy shrugs, nonchalant. "Same difference."
Wilbur scoffs, but reaches over and ruffles his son's bright red hair before pushing in his chair.
