What can I say. These days, happy songs aren't in my repertoire.
[The only happy songs were those by the children, or by his crew after a successful job and a fun drunken celebration, and those voices have died out. He feels the more he thinks on them, the less he feels he remembers. Details are starting to become all the vaguer. It scares him. That's all he has left of them, those memories.]
[He hasn't drunk his drink, yet, even as it sits, solitary, on the counter next to him.]
With company...I don't know. I'm the type who'd rather be alone.
[She stares back at him - he holds her gaze, unbreaking, as if daring her to look away.]
[Her cheeks are vibrant. She feels alive in ways he feels he could never be again.]
no subject
[The only happy songs were those by the children, or by his crew after a successful job and a fun drunken celebration, and those voices have died out. He feels the more he thinks on them, the less he feels he remembers. Details are starting to become all the vaguer. It scares him. That's all he has left of them, those memories.]
[He hasn't drunk his drink, yet, even as it sits, solitary, on the counter next to him.]
With company...I don't know. I'm the type who'd rather be alone.
[She stares back at him - he holds her gaze, unbreaking, as if daring her to look away.]
[Her cheeks are vibrant. She feels alive in ways he feels he could never be again.]
Is that wrong of me...?