I wish I could forget it but the begger never rides his horse.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

Night of Monday, September Fourteenth

I got dressed, a sinking feeling in my gut once all the tears've gone, and drank water. Only an idiot would do what I'm doing dehydrated.

Only an idiot would do it at all.

I sit at the bar and nod to the bartender, who brings me a whiskey neat when I ask and I pay him for it plus a good tip, trying my best not to look miserable or too much like a man whose not had a drink in ten years. I look at the liquid in my glass a moment and don't think of the brothel merely feet away.


[OPEN.]
[CLOSED.]

Comments

[julia-marshal.livejournal.com]

I feel a slight shift as soon as I mention Liam to him. And needless to say am a little uncomfortable with the way he instantly lets his eyes wander over me. And have to fight down the urge to frown.

"'Guess not. Never would've pegged you for being 'round the deputy, miss," Then he’s looking away from me and back at the drink and I feel like I’ve missed something.

“Oh, he wasn’t the deputy when I first started running around with him.” I assure Laurence, incase he thinks that I’m in trouble with the law. That is a terrible assumption, perhaps he thinks I’m hiding out?

Amusing as it is horrible.

“Actually, I don’t remember if he could even speak in full sentences then. Not that, has ever stopped him from being demanding.” I try to remember back that far for a moment.

“I’ve always had a sweet spot for him though; my momma says he has an angel’s face with the devil’s own mind. He just likes to look after me, I think. Make sure I’m not getting into any trouble except with him. Not the handcuffing kind of trouble, mind you. Though I’m sure Liam would like me under lock and key.” I laugh musing about my friend’s antics.

After a few moments of musing about Liam, we are back on the serious subject of drinking, and Laurence slips back into that sad shell he has.

"Because I don't think there's much point in not. Not any more."

I puzzle that out for a moment, and nod slowly.

“So, you’ve had a reason not to up until now?” I am just trying to get a grasp of the situation.

“What happened to it?”

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

The conversation has since moved on, but I keep returning to what she's said. Demanding? Handcuffs? I raise an eyebrow and my lips quirk, but they remain shut.

“So, you’ve had a reason not to up until now? What happened to it?” she asks and I set the glass down and look at her again. I consider her a moment, wondering why she would care, why she doesn't just go back to her deputy's harem.

"It...disappeared," I say finally, then look at my glass again, untouched splash of alcohol in it. "'Left' is probably a better way of putting it."

[julia-marshal.livejournal.com]

For all of my time spent at the abbey, I have seen this look in the faces of men before. Like I told Liam, everyone is looking for something. Needing something. I’ve seen people fill that need with all sorts of different things, with Liam its women, I have a feeling that with Laurence, it’s alcohol.

I feel sorry for him; I’ve found that faith is truest way to salve over those needs and doubts. Trusting in something higher and far more powerful than yourself.

He looks at me, as if he can’t figure out what I am about, all I can do is offer him a smile back. It’s in my nature to care, and so my heart squeezes a little for him, I don’t know what words to say that will right things for him. But perhaps he doesn’t need words; maybe he needs a kind ear?

"It...disappeared,"

That response seems vague to me, and I look down at the amber liquid myself.

“People have told me I’m nosy, but I don’t mean to be.” I confess to him and reach out rest the tips of my fingers on the hand that is cradling the glass.

“And if you don’t want to answer, please feel free to tell me. You won’t hurt my feelings.” I give him a smile.

“But reasons never disappear. Reasons only change. And we are blessed to be part of it.” I say, speaking a little more worldly than usual.

“And if you truly believed as you say, that the reason is gone. Then I think you may have already put that glass to work.” I get the feeling we are talking about someone and not something. But I don’t say anything yet on that subject.

“So when did your reasons change?”

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

I purse my lips and look over at her. "Sister" Julia. Then I set down my glass and spin on my stool, placing arms on the bar and facing her fully, then side-step her question with one of my own.

"How old are you, Julia?"

[julia-marshal.livejournal.com]

I don’t really know what happened. One minute we are talking and the next I get a flash from him, to me its abrupt annoyance. He spins and I almost fall off of the stool as I pull away my hand.

He ignores what I’ve just said, but looks none to pleased to have been asked it.

"How old are you, Julia?"

My eyebrows draw together as we face each other.

“Young enough to be intimidated when it’s asked like that, and old enough to not want to answer it.” I reply with a quiet frown, trying to figure out what exactly I’ve said to cause that look on his face.

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

My lips move into a smile and a small laugh comes out. Julia is on edge and for once it's nice to not care one way or the other.

"If I answer yours, will you answer mine?" I ask, and then after a pause, I do it without really waiting for a response. "Around lunchtime, when my--" I still don't even know what to call her or say or anything, "--when she left me." I give a shrug and pick up my glass again, holding it up as if in a toast. "To better pairings," I say and swallow the whole serving.

Oh, it burns. It burns and stings and in a strange way it feels like home. A lonely, depressing home where everything I get's not really what I want but at least I forget the specifics of the world outside.

[julia-marshal.livejournal.com]

I open my mouth to give a hesitant no, actually I have the feeling I may have gotten in over my head with this. I just wanted to respond with something nice, and here we are.

"Around lunchtime, when my--when she left me."

I give him a soft noise of understanding and nod, still wary of that smile of his and how he’s turned it on me. But he shrugs as I watch him motion the glass toward me, so I pick up my own.

"To better pairings,"

My eyes follow the disappearance of the liquid in his glass with a tinge of regret; I have the feeling that Nanse-Kam or any of the others at the Abbey would have done much better with this sad soul than I have.

It’s a most sobering and sad though, I put my own drink to my lips and even my nostrils burn from the smell. My eyes can’t help but widen as the liquid coats my mouth and scorches my throat; I even give a cough as I put down the glass on the bar with a shutter.

Horrible stuff, but it goes straight to my head.

“To better pairings,” I agree with his toast, my voice rough for a moment.

There is a small pause and I rub my throat before speaking again.

“I’m twenty six.”

[brotherlaurence.livejournal.com]

Discreetly I motion to the bartender for a glass of water for Julia.

"You feeling OK?" I ask gently as I move the glass to her hand. Twenty-six. Blonde. A pale comparison to Kate but enough that it's not lost on me. My throat burns a little with dryness and I swallow hard. "I'm...much older," I say with a laugh.

[julia-marshal.livejournal.com]

I laugh and nod in his direction when he asks me if I’m alright, I even take a sip of the water he presses into my palms with a grateful look.

Whiskey neat. Nice sounding, havoc in a glass as well.

"I'm...much older,"

I give him a shrug and set back down the glass, not really knowing what age has anything to do with anything really. But I want to get back to friendlier conversation, so I go along.

“That’s alright, Laurence. I don’t mind.” My smile is sunnier now that he’s back to not rounding on me abruptly, I feel as though he needs to be watched, like a jungle cat in a cage, so I try not to let that reminder slip away.

“Nanshe, bless me but that stuff you drink is horrible.” I take another drink of the water, deciding to stick with that for the moment. I want to tell him I’m sorry about the girl he’s talking about, but don’t. A little afraid he’ll come at me again with that look of his.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that again anytime soon.” This time there is a laugh from me, the fire down my throat is gone.