[ His gaze is unblinking, and where his finger rests on the flimsy cup, it stills. It isn't her answer that surprises him a bit, but an expression on her face he'd not expected to see. He wonders—is there anything she misses? From the old dead world she holds so much disdain for? How much of that disdain is born out of the fact that that world is forever lost, whether she finds any value in it or not?
Maybe those are questions for when there isn't an excessive fucking combination of liquor consumed by both of them. (Or maybe now is exactly the time for it, exactly why his thoughts are wandering in the first place.) ]
It bothers some. [ Which does not, in turn, bother him in particular. It is what it is. He shrugs, brushing off any lingering sense he might've given that there's anything more going on beneath. ]
no subject
Maybe those are questions for when there isn't an excessive fucking combination of liquor consumed by both of them. (Or maybe now is exactly the time for it, exactly why his thoughts are wandering in the first place.) ]
It bothers some. [ Which does not, in turn, bother him in particular. It is what it is. He shrugs, brushing off any lingering sense he might've given that there's anything more going on beneath. ]
I'd hate to be dull company.