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waynecymraeg (waynecymraeg) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Probably," Wayne reasoned, emphasizing the chance he wouldn't. "How much do you remember from being eight? Or nearly eight?" To Wayne, Rhys had been nearly eight since he turned seven.

"He had a great time. Wouldn't stop talking about you and Ernie, either. 'When's the next time we go out with the guys?' He's trying to be all grown-up about it, too."

Wayne was holding out hope that he'd be clean enough to convince the judge to give him more custody, but...Wayne wasn't sure he deserved it, or was ready for it, even if he did get it.

"He likes your flat better than mine, for damn sure," he admitted. Aside from Rhys, the only other person to see his shitty flat was Dora, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He shoveled another handful of popcorn in his mouth and washed it down with some soda.

"It's been three weeks, you know," he told Justin, despite his discomfort about talking about his drinking. "Since I had my last drink."