[How come there's so much of it so quickly? That's what he wants to ask. Maybe there is no answer, particularly from Lydia. Who is he to whine about pain when it's clear she's got her own little patch of hell to deal with.]
I got it.
[Roman's off the couch and he picks up the shards. Automatic, gentlemanly and without thinking too much on where he was last involving glass but. It happens. He finds himself kneeling and he holds Lydia's delicate wrist to keep her hand up.]
Somebody told me once that God doesn't want us to be happy, that he wants us to be strong.
[Wise words as they might be he spits them out with a bitterness. Red, red blood falling into the line. The life line. Even though he's right there his eyes are drawn to it. His own thumb lightly traces, trying to find if there's another shard at first he tells himself.
Not true. It's to watch it spread more. Without another thought he's stooped with her hand pressed to his mouth. Coppery, warm and calming like a chaser to the vodka.
But it's sweet. It's different.
Peter's was rich, earthy. Something he'd compare to a dark brew of coffee.]
no subject
I got it.
[Roman's off the couch and he picks up the shards. Automatic, gentlemanly and without thinking too much on where he was last involving glass but. It happens. He finds himself kneeling and he holds Lydia's delicate wrist to keep her hand up.]
Somebody told me once that God doesn't want us to be happy, that he wants us to be strong.
[Wise words as they might be he spits them out with a bitterness. Red, red blood falling into the line. The life line. Even though he's right there his eyes are drawn to it. His own thumb lightly traces, trying to find if there's another shard at first he tells himself.
Not true. It's to watch it spread more. Without another thought he's stooped with her hand pressed to his mouth. Coppery, warm and calming like a chaser to the vodka.
But it's sweet. It's different.
Peter's was rich, earthy. Something he'd compare to a dark brew of coffee.]