missingthekeep | New Year's Day [For Polly]

Happy bloody New Year.

Sean doesn't actually have a watch or anything on him, but the timing seems about right. He ducked out of the party at around half an hour to mignight, unable to stomach much more revelry, and while his ability to judge time might be a little bit skewed at the moment, he's pretty sure it should be close to the big moment. Half an hour is certainly time enough to polish off the bottle of whiskey he'd seen to take with him on his way back through the cold to his hut, and with one long, final swig, he does just that.

Drinking may dull the edge of the pain that's been gnawing at him like it hasn't in months, but there's only so much distraction it can possibly provide. As he leans over in his chair to set the empty bottle down on the floor (he almost just lets it fall, but figures he's not that much of a caricature just yet), he reaches into his pocket with his other hand to pull out the ring that he still doesn't know what to do with.

"Must cut a pretty pathetic figure right now," he mutters, words running together as he turns the ring around in his fingers. "Sorry, acushla. Fer everythin'."

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I let out the breath I was holding, then cleared my nose with a sniff. I wasn't sure that this was going to help, but I guessed that it wouldn't hurt.

"I knew a woman... a friend... a mentor. Her name was Maximiliana Horne." I licked my lips, then continued. "She was a good person, took me under her wing. Made me feel proud about my true name. But she'd had a hard life and she was dying. Ursula -- her doctor, partner, lover -- had basically set things up so she could die in peace, but there was a lot of pain."

I closed my eyes and gathered my strength. "One night, I came over to Max's place, and she'd been drinking. A lot. She was in a lot of pain and... she was not herself. She hated her life, her family, herself, and she wanted... an 'affirmation of life'. She wanted me. I thought she was going to rape me. She was horrified about it later, but at that moment-- I ran. Far away. I didn't speak to her for weeks, even though I knew she was about to die."

"I was in Greece before I finally found the courage to call her, to listen to her say she was sorry, and to tell her that it was all right. I managed to get that out before the line dropped." I sniffed. "She died before I made it home."

I focused on him. "I don't have any cure-alls, Sean. But a part of me wishes I hadn't run that night. And a part of me wishes she hadn't taken up the bottle."

Edited 2009-01-06 07:25 (UTC)

Whatever he's expecting as a rebuttal, that isn't it. In his present state, he has a bit of trouble making heads or tales out of Polly's sad, sordid story, but he at least understands what she's saying and where she's coming from with it. That doesn't mean he agrees, though.

"Well 'M nae her," he says coldly. "I dinnae need no bleedin' affirmations o' whate'er, I jus' need a damn distraction. An' I found it. 'M sorry fer yer loss an' all that, an' I know that this sort o' thing's a slip'ry slope. Seen it happen too many times, meself. But right now, I really just dinnae care."

That was way too much coherency for this late at night. Slumping back in his seat, he drapes an arm over his eyes and sighs.

"Feel free ta run this time."

It was actually a better reaction than I was dreading. Even though his answer was to turn aside my help, I think we at least understood each other.

I stepped back. "I'm not running," I said calmly. "I only followed you here to make sure you didn't fall down and freeze to death in a snowdrift. Instead, you're here. You don't need my help. So, I'll walk home." I turned and opened the door, and stopped dead.

The wind howled. I couldn't see more than five feet in front of me out the door.

I swore.

Edited 2009-01-06 12:57 (UTC)

Well, that sounds less than promising. And he'd been so close to some solitude.

"Oh, what now?" Sean groans, begrudgingly forcing himself to look up. Sure, the wind's picked up some, but it can't possibly be that bad, can it?

I stepped aside to show him, at which point the wind changed, and started sending great gusts of snow in through the door. I put my back against the wood and shoved it closed with my weight. Then I looked up at the ceiling. _Just_ my luck.

"Course it cannae be so easy," Sean mutters, not sure how intelligible it comes out and not particularly caring. He just wants to put this whole matter to bed and get on with his arsehole grieving in comparative peace, is that so much to ask for?

Bending over, palms pressed firmly against his eyes, he sighs. "Ye c'n stay here 'til it passes, s'long as ye keep ta yerself." Of course, if she'd done that in the first place, this wouldn't be an issue now, but voicing that particular complaint seems pointless.

I heard him, and for the first time tonight, I agreed with him. No good deed went unpunished on this island, it seemed.

I sighed. "Fine," I muttered, and took off my fur coat, and looked around for a corner to lay it out for a bed.

"Now what're ye doin'?" he asks irritably when he sees her toss her coat down on the ground.

I looked up at him. What could he be complaining about now? "Making a spot on the floor here to lie down on. What did you think I was doing?"

Edited 2009-01-12 01:21 (UTC)

Sean gives a annoyed sigh and waves his hand in a gesture that's fairly unclear in what it's supposed to convey. He's not so sure what it's about, himself.

"Ye're nae a dog, lass. Take the bed, I won't be usin' it."

I straightened up and looked at him in disbelief. "You're going to sleep in the chair? Won't that _hurt_?"

"No worse than the bloody floor," he mutters lowly. "I'll be fine." Truthfully, he doubts he'll be getting much sleep either way, so it's really not the biggest of sacrifices.

I think briefly about arguing, but decide against it. It's obvious nothing constructive would be achieved, and I was too tired and mentally exhausted to take this any further tonight. So, I gathered up my fur coat with a huff, crossed the floor, and flopped down on his bed, pulling the coat over me.

I don't say anything, and I keep my eyes closed. I'm going to be asleep soon, but I still listen to him breathing, and wonder what's going to happen the next morning.

Sean may be drunk off of his gourd, but he forces himself to stay awake when she quiets down, just listening to the sounds of the storm outside and turning Maeve's ring over in his hand. Hopefully it'll die down before the sun rises so he can duck out before Polly wakes up, find somewhere to recuperate in peace.

Until then, it's just him and the dark.

New Year's Day [For Polly]

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