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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Don't worry, Mother. I just stayed up late finishing up the spells on my test piece for my latest project. All the feverish painting finished a few days ago." He sighed hugely, giving up on trying to match her light tone. "It worked though, which is nice. Even if I don't want to look at it right now." And he really didn't. He'd have to soon enough if he wanted to go back into his studio, but a couple of days off wouldn't hurt.

Stroking Shadow was sort of faintly soothing, as he'd found earlier, even if it meant getting licked into the bargain. "It'd be good. Assuming she doesn't try to lick criminals to death. Pretty sure they're more hardened than me. Don't cave so easily." The tone was suspiciously blank, but he did keep smiling faintly at the dog, which might be mildly reassuring.

His hands dropped away as Shadow sat back and he sighed, not looking at Susan. "It's fifty different kinds of shit," he said. "Since, you know, when I say groping I mean yanking at his tshirt right over his scar. And I was naked, which I don't think he realised thankfully." He sighed again massively and scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked at Susan as she approached. "Well, I'm better now than the point where I made him getting away as he obviously wanted to into being all about me having a panic attack." He looked her in the eyes and attempted half a smile, and even though his mouth curved there was little joy in it, just rueful blame.

He chewed at his lip slightly and took a deep breath. "And then he gave me really thoughtful presents and made me cry which actually helped a bit." He pushed his drink back to the table and shrugged helplessly. "I don't..." He half wanted to down the rest of the glass but he also recognised it as a potentially stupid idea and resisted.