[ She doesn’t answer, and the phone doesn’t buzz, and he huffs the thing facedown beside him. Maybe, maybe accidentally elbows it onto the floor, but who’s counting, these things happen, he doesn’t need it anyway. Doesn’t have pressing business with anyone (or any business with anyone ha ha very cute). Certainly doesn’t need… what was it. What he’d been doing. Who he’d been— The woman, doesn’t need her sanctimonious trilling.
Her temperatures.
Senseless woman. He scoffs, takes another drink, and drifts onto another.
He’s fallen abstract this way, glass in hand, when he thinks there’s a presence. A sound. A— No, that’s a… hand upon him? Some touch against his shoulder?
That’s not… Wallace?
Fuck’s name, who would even be approaching him in this place, no one knows him here no one lives around here and the servants avoid him like the plague. (Like his wife avoids him, ha ha, but she’s no true wife and fuck knows he’s no true husband.)
He starts to turn, thinking to catch sight of the intruder. Manages to jar his head awkwardly and fine that…
Oh. That’s the woman. The dour, unknowable woman who by the way he does not want to know and has no interest in seeing, what is she doing here, doesn’t she know to leave this study (whose study is it even meant to be, well, who cares) alone? This is where he’s supposed to be capable of drinking alone, only wasn’t it just inevitable that they’d find him here, interrupt him in his sole remaining pleasure? He should have known his quiet couldn’t last.
He’s scowling when he looks at her, vision unfixed, seeing her image and yes her image doubling over itself and was she touching him, well what does she want? ]
no subject
Her temperatures.
Senseless woman. He scoffs, takes another drink, and drifts onto another.
He’s fallen abstract this way, glass in hand, when he thinks there’s a presence. A sound. A— No, that’s a… hand upon him? Some touch against his shoulder?
That’s not… Wallace?
Fuck’s name, who would even be approaching him in this place, no one knows him here no one lives around here and the servants avoid him like the plague. (Like his wife avoids him, ha ha, but she’s no true wife and fuck knows he’s no true husband.)
He starts to turn, thinking to catch sight of the intruder. Manages to jar his head awkwardly and fine that…
Oh. That’s the woman. The dour, unknowable woman who by the way he does not want to know and has no interest in seeing, what is she doing here, doesn’t she know to leave this study (whose study is it even meant to be, well, who cares) alone? This is where he’s supposed to be capable of drinking alone, only wasn’t it just inevitable that they’d find him here, interrupt him in his sole remaining pleasure? He should have known his quiet couldn’t last.
He’s scowling when he looks at her, vision unfixed, seeing her image and yes her image doubling over itself and was she touching him, well what does she want? ]
What is this?