Bridget Carys Llywelyn (symphony_muted) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2011-06-20 22:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | bridget llywelyn, saint patrick |
Who: Bridget and Patrick
What: I am not a piece of baggage
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: Their respective homes
Bridget had no way of knowing that Patrick was quite nude when she called, nor was she aware she had actually interrupted something and Patrick had only answered the phone because he was afraid it was an emergency. After she let it ring for so long, she assumed his breathlessness was due to running for the phone or searching for it. She attributed his higher voice to that and nothing else.
"Is this Patrick? Iwa- David's brother?"
A pause. "Yes?" And then more heavy breathing. "Just a second."
Bridget waited patiently though her heart was pounding against her chest. There were muffled sounds on the other end of the line and then she heard Patrick's voice again, sounding much less breathy. "Sorry."
"It's fine. This is Bridget."
Bridget could almost hear his amused smile when he said, "the accent does kind of stand out, Bridget. Can I help you?"
Bridget suddenly realised she had lost all ability to remember what she had planned to say. She was just going to have to wing it. "Is David there with you?"
"No!" Patrick said defensively, which caught Bridget off-guard. A moment later, there was a nervous chuckle and then Patrick replied, "I mean he isn't with me, but he is here. In his room. Not with me." Bridget was unaware Patrick was adamant about not being naked with David because he had less than no interest in going there with the Welsh saint.
Bridget blinked. "And you're...you're Saint Patrick?" If he was confused as to what she was talking about, David was a crazy person after all. Which was something she had been wrestling with for days. But hardly a beat went by and he answered in the affirmative. "The Saint Patrick?"
"That would be me," Patrick said firmly. "He said he told you. It must have been quite a shock."
"That...that doesn't even begin to describe it," Bridget breathed. "Saint Patrick, I don't care who your brother is. I had him in my home for months and I refuse to be cast aside like I mean nothing. I don't know if you all think you're...better than everyone else or what, but I won't be treated like this."
"And I don't think you should be," Patrick replied almost instantly. "Dewi has always adhered to his ideals of self-denial and that was his choice. It didn't impact on anyone. It does now. I think...I think he needs someone to show him that. Dewi's ideals mean a lot to him and I can't promise he will be there for you like he was before. But you still deserve the chance to tell him this affects you. I think he needs to hear that."
"You...you want me to come there and confront him? I expected some kind of...saint solidarity."
"This is solidarity. My brother deserves happiness and you made him happy for a short time. And you don't have to call me Saint Patrick. Just Patrick is fine. And Bridget? Thank you for taking care of my brother for so long. Thank you so much. Can you come here soon? I'll tell you the address."
It had gone better than she had hoped. Saint Patrick had listened to her. As soon as she received the details, she let him go, unaware of what he was returning to. She was too busy organising things in her mind. She wouldn't go drop in on him today. She would arrange a few things and go in a few days time. This was delicate and had to be handled as such.