Perplexed, she regards him with drawn brows, trying to sort out what he means - even if the compliments come in with his promises and lift her mouth into a pleased, if faint smile. (Even right now, with such a serious conversation happening, it thrills her deep to know he thinks so well of her.
It's easy to be good to him. He makes her feel welcome. He seems to want her. That means so much to her - means the world to her.)
But what did he mean there, what did he say before that would indicate the whiskey in his hand?
That he would-
Leave it for later.
Dawning comprehension softens her features, and her smile grows: he didn't have to admit that. He could have let her misunderstand, because she did just give him a release from any guilt, didn't she? He didn't have to correct her, but he did. And maybe he'll try, even if it's only fifteen, thirty minutes, but it's fifteen or thirty minutes he might not have otherwise given her.
Tomorrow, maybe, he'll leave it for longer. One little step at a time.
She takes a step back - though this time, to avoid his misunderstanding, she hooks a finger in the collar of his shirt and gives a tug. You're coming, too. ]
Do you want to try? Leaving it for later?
[ She has his aspirin. She has herself. She can hold him, hide him away from the things both physical and mental that drive him to the bottom of a bottle every day.
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Perplexed, she regards him with drawn brows, trying to sort out what he means - even if the compliments come in with his promises and lift her mouth into a pleased, if faint smile. (Even right now, with such a serious conversation happening, it thrills her deep to know he thinks so well of her.
It's easy to be good to him. He makes her feel welcome. He seems to want her. That means so much to her - means the world to her.)
But what did he mean there, what did he say before that would indicate the whiskey in his hand?
That he would-
Leave it for later.
Dawning comprehension softens her features, and her smile grows: he didn't have to admit that. He could have let her misunderstand, because she did just give him a release from any guilt, didn't she? He didn't have to correct her, but he did. And maybe he'll try, even if it's only fifteen, thirty minutes, but it's fifteen or thirty minutes he might not have otherwise given her.
Tomorrow, maybe, he'll leave it for longer. One little step at a time.
She takes a step back - though this time, to avoid his misunderstanding, she hooks a finger in the collar of his shirt and gives a tug. You're coming, too. ]
Do you want to try? Leaving it for later?
[ She has his aspirin. She has herself. She can hold him, hide him away from the things both physical and mental that drive him to the bottom of a bottle every day.
If he's willing. ]
It's up to you, Fish.