Was a bit drizzly Thanksgiving morning, and Xavier and I split up. He had a few places he wanted to so, and I had a place or two I wanted to go. Sadly, one of them was a shop he had dragged me into already and I wanted to go back and take advantage of of the sale. I found a bunch of shirt I liked but limited myself to two.
There are 3 types of Scottish guys: heinous, Ok, and hot. Throw in the accent and heinous becomes charming, Ok becomes hot and hot becomes HOT.
That said, I relished in the personal attention the retail boy paid me in simply transacting. I could barely understand him, his accent was so thick. And, for someone with nearly hairless arms, he had practically a sweater of chest hair under his T shirt.
Enough of that.