*He glances at Wright, his face impassive, but his mouth set in a hard line. He knocks back the remainder of the Scotch in his glass, his eyes not leaving the other man's.*
I'm not a child, Wright. I don't need your damn company. Or your abuse.
*And he swings himself up off the seat in one movement, pausing briefly to steady himself with a hand flat against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment until the dizziness passes. Then he crosses the room, slamming the empty tumbler onto the mantlepiece in passing.
His hands are still shaking as he reaches into the refrigerator icebox for the vodka, but he can't tell if it's from the cold or from something else.*
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-07 08:06 pm (UTC)I'm not a child, Wright. I don't need your damn company. Or your abuse.
*And he swings himself up off the seat in one movement, pausing briefly to steady himself with a hand flat against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment until the dizziness passes. Then he crosses the room, slamming the empty tumbler onto the mantlepiece in passing.
His hands are still shaking as he reaches into the refrigerator icebox for the vodka, but he can't tell if it's from the cold or from something else.*