 connoisseur of comfort ❅ Crayola's Wibby Mrs Alex Turner ❅ Netflix and meow
Ask anyone who even remotely knew him and they would confirm that the chances of Mitchell Barlow EVER partaking in yoga was as likely as the existence of a four-sided triangle. And yet…… here he was. He had considered feigning sick but apparently this was compulsory and quite frankly, Desmarais frightened him slightly.
Dressed in his usual drab, brown robes, he made his way to the designated yoga-ing zone in the rose garden. And that's when he noticed his colleagues.
Cue furrowed brows.
Despite his very bizarre, very baggy trousers, de Nostredame looked every bit like he’d just stepped out of a poster of a teen witch magazine and Schmoe…… well, Schmoe was wearing what he could only assume was a professional yoga kit.
“Didn’t realise there was a dress code,” he expressed defeatedly, adjusting his bogey green bowtie. Maybe this meant he could sit out.
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