[ Katrina would have to be completely oblivious not to notice he's struggling. It doesn't help that the alcohol's in his line of sight, that he's probably feeling worse for the wear and the whiskey would definitely solve that problem. It probably doesn't help that she added to the pressure by playing the 'do this for me' card.
It's not about the drinking. It's about knowing he has it in him to stop. Some spark of something keeping him alive, or wanting to be alive, which she knows isn't at all the same thing.
He's surviving, not going mechanically through the motions and passively killing himself. That's important. That's worth the effort of dragging him out of this situation - cold as the thought strikes her, that she could ever consider leaving him like this. (Would she, even if he didn't care at all? If the offer of a new start didn't phase him at all, would she have given up, and simply taken what time he had left to give?
It's possible.)
She stills when he moves, then coos in sympathy at the aborted attempt to raise himself up. Aspirin isn't the same quick relief, and certainly not the warm and welcome embrace of intoxication. Leaning down, she grazes a lingering kiss against his temple, then eases down to curl her body around his, holding him close and protected for as long as she can. ]
The headache will pass, and then you'll just have your wife. And Wallace, if he ever gets here.
[ There's another kiss, brushed against the back of his neck, and another to his shoulder: she is proud of him. Even if - when - he gives up, he tried. ]
We can stay in bed all day. You can tell me the rest of that story, when you feel up to it. Or you two can tell me about Davis. I bet you were the deviant to end all deviants.
[ A hint of mischief returns to her tone, creeping around the edges of her smile, though her voice comes muffled from against his shoulder. ]
no subject
It's not about the drinking. It's about knowing he has it in him to stop. Some spark of something keeping him alive, or wanting to be alive, which she knows isn't at all the same thing.
He's surviving, not going mechanically through the motions and passively killing himself. That's important. That's worth the effort of dragging him out of this situation - cold as the thought strikes her, that she could ever consider leaving him like this. (Would she, even if he didn't care at all? If the offer of a new start didn't phase him at all, would she have given up, and simply taken what time he had left to give?
It's possible.)
She stills when he moves, then coos in sympathy at the aborted attempt to raise himself up. Aspirin isn't the same quick relief, and certainly not the warm and welcome embrace of intoxication. Leaning down, she grazes a lingering kiss against his temple, then eases down to curl her body around his, holding him close and protected for as long as she can. ]
The headache will pass, and then you'll just have your wife. And Wallace, if he ever gets here.
[ There's another kiss, brushed against the back of his neck, and another to his shoulder: she is proud of him. Even if - when - he gives up, he tried. ]
We can stay in bed all day. You can tell me the rest of that story, when you feel up to it. Or you two can tell me about Davis. I bet you were the deviant to end all deviants.
[ A hint of mischief returns to her tone, creeping around the edges of her smile, though her voice comes muffled from against his shoulder. ]
Before you got old.