[ There's a moment where he regrets having said a damn thing about it. He's equally full of liquor and that means he's even less capable of understanding what to do with...sympathy. Or what registers as sympathy. Maybe it's pity. He can't say for certain, because neither are often aimed in his direction. He wants to dismiss it—it is shit, but so is everything else, like being dead or having most of the world die on you; whatever violence or loss has dogged his life, it isn't any more or less than what's found so many others—but Julie's hands are warm, her gaze remarkably earnest, and he finds he can't bring himself to shrug her off.
His eyes drop down towards her. For a few seconds, he's quiet. He shares the sentiment; it just isn't one he knows how to say when acknowledging when people begin to inch closer to him is something he's spent his entire life avoiding. Maybe it can be read on his face anyhow—more easily so than were he sober—in the mild, thoughtful expression that flickers over him. ]
I'm rarely much for company, [ any semblance of eloquence has also completely evaded him now that he's this many bottles deep, though in its place is a sincerity where his deadpan normally is, ] but some are worthwhile.
[ Perhaps finding new people has made dying less bullshit for her, too. Who knows? He rather hopes so. Neither of them have a hell of a lot to hold onto. ]
no subject
His eyes drop down towards her. For a few seconds, he's quiet. He shares the sentiment; it just isn't one he knows how to say when acknowledging when people begin to inch closer to him is something he's spent his entire life avoiding. Maybe it can be read on his face anyhow—more easily so than were he sober—in the mild, thoughtful expression that flickers over him. ]
I'm rarely much for company, [ any semblance of eloquence has also completely evaded him now that he's this many bottles deep, though in its place is a sincerity where his deadpan normally is, ] but some are worthwhile.
[ Perhaps finding new people has made dying less bullshit for her, too. Who knows? He rather hopes so. Neither of them have a hell of a lot to hold onto. ]