Hannah & Jeremiah; Jester's Court
"I have noticed that," he said honestly. "I think it's rubbish, personally." There was more to that perhaps, how he loved women who challenged him, and pushed him, and didn't let him sit still wherever he was and rest there. But that was to try to fit somehow into the screenplay, in dialogue that he could almost hear in his mind's eye, and part of him wanted to try to write, or to dictate out - one thing after another - said out loud, because he was realizing, slowly, that it was important for the words to be said out loud because they would be. Unlike a book, it needed to be heard in his head.
"Nothing will be well-behaved," he told her, his cheek close to hers, and it was a promised. "Not really. It will be wild, and full of spunk, and determination, and love that is all active, and not a bit of it waiting to happen."
He could disagree that he had needed saving, but perhaps not that it had been largely to find his way back to himself. He'd been lost in his house, lost in script pages that weren't turning into anything at all, lost in too many glasses of gin, and too many cigarettes, and not enough life, and Hannah had showed up and offered so much more than he'd expected. And maybe that wasn't important, really, it was what she'd said, and he was grateful for it regardless.
Jeremiah kept his fingers against her waist. "Maybe nobody ever sees any other person completely, but I've always wanted you to be you," maybe they hadn't completely made sense, but he thought he got what she was getting at. "I like it you're you with me."