Henry walks out onto the porch after a small bout of cleaning, i.e. throwing things that are in many piles into one big pile. He slides the glass door shut quietly, seemingly worried about Claire waking up. He doesn't really feel the need to say anything, he just leans on the railing next to Liz and looks out at the lights in the town.
He smiles a little at the hand. "I'm not cold," he says simply, just like he's told her a hundred times before when she thinks he needs a coat. The chill in the air that he does notice is keeping him awake, and he's kind of appreciative of that.
"It lowers your imm--never mind." She's tired. And specifically tired of trying to take care of everyone. "You know that already."
Her cigarette has taken on a long, cylindrical ash; she taps it on the railing until it falls off and drifts off into the air like snow. After a long time: "...why is Muds such a nutjob?"
Henry watches the ash and then turns to look at Liz. "I don't know...I really don't. I never understood him. That accent, the way he treats people...I don't get it." It takes a lot for him to admit this, because Muds is Liz's friend, and he doesn't like saying anything negative about people she likes, even if she's perfectly willing to.
"I guess some of it was probably...well." He doesn't want to say drugs, he doesn't know. "But...the way he is around Stu- it can be a lot different...I don't know. I don't get him." He sighs and leans harder into the railing.
"I know." She turns her collar up and sucks hard on her cigarette, dragging all the way down to the filter. Her fingers twist, the motion sharp, like she's breaking something. The little light at the end of the cigarette falls down into the darkness below the balcony. "He doesn't want to deal with anything. He doesn't want to deal with what happened, or how he feels about Stu, and I just--I have to. I have to deal with things or they eat me up inside. This thing with the fucking doors, I just--I don't know. It has to get better. It has to."
She realizes she's talking about something completely different at this point, because she doesn't know what to say about Muds other than 'I give up,' and she just isn't wired that way. They can't send him home now, his brother would kill him.
Her mouth and her brain try desperately to get back on track, or at least reach some kind of agreement. "He went after him, though...that has to mean something."
He rubs her upper arm- or rather, the coat over her upper arm. The doors...yeah, those were a problem. They were a bit of a problem with him, too, but that's already starting to fade. She's right, it has to get better. He hopes it will, once they get farther away from...everything.
Back to Muds, though. Henry nods. "Yeah, he did. Even when he was all fucked up and angry. He really cares about him, even if he's an asshole to him most of the time."
"He has such a crappy way of showing it," Liz mutters darkly. Already she's lighting another cigarette, determined to at least concentrate on this one. "I can't believe he called him that."
Oh. Whoops. Oh, well, it's not like she wouldn't tell Henry. She just figured he'd already heard it. "He called him a fag. Because Stu was touching him or something and god forbid he do that."
He frowns even more. "Are you kidding?! Fuck, of course you're not." He shakes his head. "That's so stupid...I mean, I know he doesn't want people to know, but...damn."
He stares at the lights for a few seconds more before continuing. "I probably shouldn't talk...I wasn't exactly the best guy to get along with in there...man, am I glad that's over." He bites his lip. "Don't get me wrong, it was a good idea...and a lot of people got what they needed to out of it, but...I guess its just not my sort of thing."
She rubs his back gently, thumb pressing against the base of his neck. "I'm sorry I didn't stick with you more. I talked to Claire a little...things are gonna be OK, I think."
She recounts what she remembers of the conversation, as blunt and honest as she can be. Her face flames up a little sometimes, but she and Henry have never made a practice of lying to each other and she doesn't want to start now.
He's about to tell her that he talked to Claire some, too, and that it went less awful than he expected, but...then Liz continues and he forgets about it.
Henry stays very quiet for most of the explanation, listening intently. He's very careful not to let his face show expression, since he's completely unsure as to what it will do.
He stays silent for awhile after she's done, sparing an occasional glance at Claire. His brow furrow in concentration, and finally he asks, "So...if Muds hadn't shown up, what...?" He shakes his head at himself. "Never mind, I know. I just...she's not in love with you? Sorry, this is taking awhile to...get through my head, I guess." Now that he's talking, he looks kind of worried. But he's smiling, so it's hard to tell what he's thinking. It is, however, obvious he's mostly confused.
It registers somewhere in Henry's head that she's probably more confused than he is right now.
His voice is tense and a little higher than usual. "Um. You would've told me first, right? I mean...sorry." She's telling him now. And of course she would. He shakes his head at himself again. "I know you...you would've told me...maybe not by the kissing, but not too long after..." He moves closer to her and leans his shoulder on hers.
"I didn't kiss her." Her voice is very little, and her face is all but hidden by the collar and hat. "And I--this isn't about like, asking your permission or anything. I don't want to date other people...we didn't do anything."
The fact that this is not for lack of feeling hangs in the air like smog.
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Her cigarette has taken on a long, cylindrical ash; she taps it on the railing until it falls off and drifts off into the air like snow. After a long time: "...why is Muds such a nutjob?"
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"I guess some of it was probably...well." He doesn't want to say drugs, he doesn't know. "But...the way he is around Stu- it can be a lot different...I don't know. I don't get him." He sighs and leans harder into the railing.
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She realizes she's talking about something completely different at this point, because she doesn't know what to say about Muds other than 'I give up,' and she just isn't wired that way. They can't send him home now, his brother would kill him.
Her mouth and her brain try desperately to get back on track, or at least reach some kind of agreement. "He went after him, though...that has to mean something."
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Back to Muds, though. Henry nods. "Yeah, he did. Even when he was all fucked up and angry. He really cares about him, even if he's an asshole to him most of the time."
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He stares at the lights for a few seconds more before continuing. "I probably shouldn't talk...I wasn't exactly the best guy to get along with in there...man, am I glad that's over." He bites his lip. "Don't get me wrong, it was a good idea...and a lot of people got what they needed to out of it, but...I guess its just not my sort of thing."
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She recounts what she remembers of the conversation, as blunt and honest as she can be. Her face flames up a little sometimes, but she and Henry have never made a practice of lying to each other and she doesn't want to start now.
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Henry stays very quiet for most of the explanation, listening intently. He's very careful not to let his face show expression, since he's completely unsure as to what it will do.
He stays silent for awhile after she's done, sparing an occasional glance at Claire. His brow furrow in concentration, and finally he asks, "So...if Muds hadn't shown up, what...?" He shakes his head at himself. "Never mind, I know. I just...she's not in love with you? Sorry, this is taking awhile to...get through my head, I guess." Now that he's talking, he looks kind of worried. But he's smiling, so it's hard to tell what he's thinking. It is, however, obvious he's mostly confused.
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His voice is tense and a little higher than usual. "Um. You would've told me first, right? I mean...sorry." She's telling him now. And of course she would. He shakes his head at himself again. "I know you...you would've told me...maybe not by the kissing, but not too long after..." He moves closer to her and leans his shoulder on hers.
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The fact that this is not for lack of feeling hangs in the air like smog.
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