Re: lakeside mansion; hugh c./dietre a.
Bit by bit, it was getting a little easier to talk. Dietre supposed it was the getting started that was the hardest part. And Hugh, somehow, seemed to know just the sort of things to say to make him feel more at ease. This was a dangerous thing, however, he could feel it. Dietre was painfully aware of his tendency to get suckered in by anyone who he believed understood him.
“I have a little house at the carnival… The bed is in a loft, up a ladder that she can’t climb. When I stay there I sleep on the floor so she doesn’t have to sleep alone.” Having Sieglinde beside him at night really helped with his insomnia. He could barely sleep at all while he was in Quiet Home, but maybe now he’d be able to.
Talk of friendship tempted Dietre’s gaze to turn toward Hugh for longer than a glance. For a moment there was a look on his face that was a wretched kind of hopeful. Was it Nietzche that said hope was the worst of all evils because it prolonged the torments of man? Something like that… In Dietre’s experience it was true, and try as he may to stop himself, he couldn’t extinguish it fully even though he knew that in the end there would only be more pain.
“...The question isn’t whether I’ll want you as a friend,” he murmured, “but if you’ll want me.” A sigh, and he turned his attention back to the dogs, who really were having a great time chasing each other around and burning up some energy. They had no worries, no hang ups. Their friendship was instant.
When Dietre spoke again, his tone was lighter. “I’m very good at being a hermit, by the way, if you’d like some tips...”