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Seamus Finnigan (openbottle) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Blasphemy," Seamus said - more because it seemed to be the easy, obvious thing to say than because he could (right now) summon any particularly strong feelings about keeping his hair. He'd always had curls, never experimented with going short enough to lose them, and didn't particularly want to. "What'd mam call me? Prickly?" He gave his curls a quick tug then returned his hands (and his attention) to his soup.

He shrugged. "That you do," he agreed, with another small smile. "It's just..." He trailed off with a gesture. He could easily have said it was his stomach. Dean would probably have petted him and helped him to bed and Seamus could have curled up and been asleep within an hour. But he couldn't just lie. Not to Dean. "I want more out of life than 'okay'." And Seamus got to have more, most of the time. Yes, he still had struggles but he also had his pub, his way of giving back. "For you, for Susan and Dennis and Ginny and... everyone. I know we can't be feckin' spectacular all the time but -" His pain and exhaustion weren't helping, were making it hard to remember that they ever got to spectacular.