[ It's a bit like self-flagellation. Listening in. Letting every word drive into his skull like an icepick.
(It's nothing new. It was always like this. They have always had one-night stands. It's never bothered him (much) before.) (But.) (But after their reunion. And how close Rin has kept to him. And after two years' absence.
He'd thought nothing, really. But clearly, he's had some sentiment formed, some nebulous hope that maybe it wouldn't happen again.
For a while.
Ever.)
(Fuck. Couldn't they just wait until he was in his grave before -)
(Not fair. He knows that's not fair. They don't know what they don't know. And they've always been clear about how they mean to live. And Sen has always been supportive of it.)
(Fuck, though. Fuck.)
He listens to the asshole speaking (call that 'flirting', does he?) and his lip curls with disgust. It's clear the guy's only here for a novelty fuck. Here to solve for himself the mystery under Rin Renault's clothes and scratch 'fucked an enby' off his shitty little bucket list.
I saw you perform. You moved me.
Sen rolls his eyes and lets his head loll to the side with a scowl. Thinks, if you were moved, truly moved, by the person standing before you, you'd be on your fucking knees. You'd be begging. There would be awe in your voice. You'd speak in tongues. You're sticking a toe inside the fucking fairy ring and daring them to carry you off, and you don't know your own good fortune just to have seen them. Just to be in their presence.
'You moved me.'
What a fucking wally.
The conversation seems to drop in tone, turning intimate, and he doesn't want to hear anymore of this. Doesn't really want to be conscious, truth be told. He reaches out to tap the backs of his fingers against Andi's leg, but finds himself preempted: she's reaching down a double, letting it dangle just at his eyeline.
His hand hovers beside the glass and his eyes flicker up to hers (what do you know, my girl?), but she is very studiously not looking at him.
Well.
Softly, as he accepts the very thing he'd been predisposed to ask for, he speaks to no one in particular. ]
A fine girl, that Andi.
[ He doesn't knock the whole of it back, but he drinks enough to convince himself the burn in his eyes is from bourbon. And then looks up to find she's no longer pretending he's invisible; he offers a wan smile. A lift of one shoulder. ]
I'm happy for them. I am.
[ Andi raises both brows; the corner of her mouth drags sideways and down as she turns away. She's clearly unvoicing what he can only interpret as okay, dude. Or, in the meme culture of post-millennial America: sure, Jan. He exhales a laugh and tilts his glass back and forth, watching the liquid swish.
And lets his head fall back again with a soft thump. ]
no subject
(It's nothing new. It was always like this. They have always had one-night stands. It's never bothered him (much) before.) (But.) (But after their reunion. And how close Rin has kept to him. And after two years' absence.
He'd thought nothing, really. But clearly, he's had some sentiment formed, some nebulous hope that maybe it wouldn't happen again.
For a while.
Ever.)
(Fuck. Couldn't they just wait until he was in his grave before -)
(Not fair. He knows that's not fair. They don't know what they don't know. And they've always been clear about how they mean to live. And Sen has always been supportive of it.)
(Fuck, though. Fuck.)
He listens to the asshole speaking (call that 'flirting', does he?) and his lip curls with disgust. It's clear the guy's only here for a novelty fuck. Here to solve for himself the mystery under Rin Renault's clothes and scratch 'fucked an enby' off his shitty little bucket list.
I saw you perform. You moved me.
Sen rolls his eyes and lets his head loll to the side with a scowl. Thinks, if you were moved, truly moved, by the person standing before you, you'd be on your fucking knees. You'd be begging. There would be awe in your voice. You'd speak in tongues. You're sticking a toe inside the fucking fairy ring and daring them to carry you off, and you don't know your own good fortune just to have seen them. Just to be in their presence.
'You moved me.'
What a fucking wally.
The conversation seems to drop in tone, turning intimate, and he doesn't want to hear anymore of this. Doesn't really want to be conscious, truth be told. He reaches out to tap the backs of his fingers against Andi's leg, but finds himself preempted: she's reaching down a double, letting it dangle just at his eyeline.
His hand hovers beside the glass and his eyes flicker up to hers (what do you know, my girl?), but she is very studiously not looking at him.
Well.
Softly, as he accepts the very thing he'd been predisposed to ask for, he speaks to no one in particular. ]
A fine girl, that Andi.
[ He doesn't knock the whole of it back, but he drinks enough to convince himself the burn in his eyes is from bourbon. And then looks up to find she's no longer pretending he's invisible; he offers a wan smile. A lift of one shoulder. ]
I'm happy for them. I am.
[ Andi raises both brows; the corner of her mouth drags sideways and down as she turns away. She's clearly unvoicing what he can only interpret as okay, dude. Or, in the meme culture of post-millennial America: sure, Jan. He exhales a laugh and tilts his glass back and forth, watching the liquid swish.
And lets his head fall back again with a soft thump. ]