It was...very, very odd to have Slayers coming at me every time I turned around. One girl in all the world...then two...now God only knew how many. It would take a lot of getting used to. But at least I had a small room to myself. Couches were fine, but with so many teenagers - Slayers - around, there was a large risk of seriously disturbing at least one of them with my nightmares.
I did have better fitting clothes, at least, though the made my lack of weight rather obvious. Couldn't have everything. I hadn't taken EB up on her offer, in the end. I'd simply used the Council's money and had absolutely no qualms about it. But it was hard to see EB around, and even harder to see Faith
( ... )
Pubs. They were the same pretty much everywhere on earth. There wasn’t much difference between the Americans or the British ones. Except for the beer, they had real beer here. Not that it mattered to me, I stuck to my whiskey. They were the same dingy smoke filled far to small dark places where people came to bemoan their sorrows
( ... )
"Depends on who wants to know." Which made sense, actually. Especially when I was looking at a man far removed from the Wyndam-Pryce I'd seen so long ago. I took the seat in front of him and knocked the rest of my drink back.
"First," I said. "Let's just say it's good that you are already sitting down..." I poured myself another glass from the bottle I'd gotten and took a sip. Good stuff. I licked my lips and took a deep breath.
"As to who wants to know...that would be Dian Ramsey." There. Bomb dropped. Ball in his court and all that. In the meantime, I took another drink. Or two.
It's good thing I'm sitting down? Why? And where does she come of pouring herself a drink from *my* bottle? Do I look like the salvation army? The way she stood there and the way she said 'it's a good thing you're sitting down' was almost as though she was expecting me to be what...? Falling down
( ... )
Finally, I managed it. I'm drunk. I'm utterly drunk. I'm so sodding pissed I'm hearing things. I could've sworn she just told me she'd been in love with Faith. A sixteen year old girl? Admit it Wes, you always got the hots for me. Well, yes, of course the girl has sexual chemistry with a broomstick
( ... )
"No, she didn't. I hid it remarkably well...apparently she'd already seen you and someone else who was back from the dead...then me, and I hadn't wanted to give her anymore stress. But I did. I was surprised she didn't bolt after I said it." I sighed and stared at my bottle. Lovely, lovely bottle.
"We both finally agreed that she'd been to young back then to know how to react if I'd have told her then. And then I died on her...and didn't get back in time for it to have done any good..." The tears started to well up in my eyes but I was drunk enough not to care. "I wanted her to have a better life than she apparently ended up with...damn it all..."
"Oh." It's hard for me to imagine Faith being unable to react to anything really. I'm guessing Miss Ramsey here knows a whole different Faith. Must've been a bit of a shock to see her now. Hmmm. I guess
( ... )
I gave him a slight smile for his efforts. "It's all right. I just...I let myself care too much is all. I really shouldn't have. Should have known better than that. But yes, someone else is back. Faith didn't drop a name for that one, though."
Taking another swig, I said, "You know? I really wish I could really sleep. I think I could sleep for almost a week if it weren't for the nightmares. To sleep and not to dream, God I'd love that..." I laughed, even if it was a bit hollow.
"How 'bout you, Wyndam-Pryce? Think a week's worth of sleep would feel good?" A change in topics was a good idea. And a weeping drunk was bad company.
Comments 43
I did have better fitting clothes, at least, though the made my lack of weight rather obvious. Couldn't have everything. I hadn't taken EB up on her offer, in the end. I'd simply used the Council's money and had absolutely no qualms about it. But it was hard to see EB around, and even harder to see Faith ( ... )
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"First," I said. "Let's just say it's good that you are already sitting down..." I poured myself another glass from the bottle I'd gotten and took a sip. Good stuff. I licked my lips and took a deep breath.
"As to who wants to know...that would be Dian Ramsey." There. Bomb dropped. Ball in his court and all that. In the meantime, I took another drink. Or two.
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"We both finally agreed that she'd been to young back then to know how to react if I'd have told her then. And then I died on her...and didn't get back in time for it to have done any good..." The tears started to well up in my eyes but I was drunk enough not to care. "I wanted her to have a better life than she apparently ended up with...damn it all..."
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Taking another swig, I said, "You know? I really wish I could really sleep. I think I could sleep for almost a week if it weren't for the nightmares. To sleep and not to dream, God I'd love that..." I laughed, even if it was a bit hollow.
"How 'bout you, Wyndam-Pryce? Think a week's worth of sleep would feel good?" A change in topics was a good idea. And a weeping drunk was bad company.
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