(Untitled)

[riveroffire]

*he's leaned against a wall, as per usual, and -- it's his birthday, though he's told nearly no one, and today he's forty-three years old (as much as that even matters anymore, thanks to Raphael) and in a positively foul mood

Comments

[hellflowsover]

You know, I remember when Mother had you. You were this red-faced, angry, squalling thrashing little infant. You'd hold on to everything anyone offered you and try to beat them with it.

Forty-three years and you haven't changed a bit. Happy birthday.

*present: has, for Christ's sake, actually gotten him a good bottle of whiskey*

[riveroffire]

I don't remember, but I know better than to question your memory. Would you want me to change?

*takes the whiskey, then, because he's not going to turn down good alcohol, and flashes a quick, crooked grin at him, which is the closest to a "thank you" Acheron is going to get anyway*

[hellflowsover]

Tush. Adulthood doesn't really begin until you're forty-five, anyway. *says the 48-year-old with the face of a 30-year-old*

You haven't changed at all, that's my point. You even still suck down breast-milk, only this is the kind for those with chronic Mummy-issues. *taps the bottle*

[riveroffire]

I'll let you know what I think about that in two years. Not that it counts the same way, anymore.

*examines the bottle for a moment* What makes you think I have Mummy-issues, pray tell?

[hellflowsover]

Not the same way?

Mum's not all too friendly with your angel, but you've never been completely comfortable with her before that. Come to that, most of us aren't. Styx has the worst of them, of course, but everything's wrong with him anyway.

[riveroffire]

No. Not now that I'm aging more slowly.

Damn, you're on to me. *shrugs slightly* She's an unsettling woman.

[hellflowsover]

Oh, interesting.

Most of us aim to be unsettling people, you know.