Cyril’s made friend with one of his classmates. More than friends, really. With my advice, he gathered up the courage to ask her out — and also thanks to my advice, if I do say so myself, she said yes.
He doesn’t want to tell Mom or Dad about it, though. Only me and his twin.
But his twin doesn’t have a driver’s permit, so I’m the one to drive him to the Brindleton Bay lounge. Incidentally, I’m also the one to help with the entry price, as his allowance may be generous but it’s not quite enough.
Unfortunately, something goes wrong rather early on.
They’ve barely touched their (non-alcoholic) drinks when Cyril says something wrong.
The embarrassment is too much to take.
Thankfully, I’m not very far.
It’s okay, little bro, I’ll take you back home.
But not before thanking the bartender for making sure the drinks had no alcohol in them, and generally looking over the kids when I couldn’t show myself.
He’s a rather nice character. I don’t want to stay too long, but Cyril’s not-girlfriend has already gone anyway. A few more minutes don’t hurt, and he’s listening to the pianist play inside anyway.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 