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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Not so sure enforced relaxation is the way I'd go, but slouching around my flat trying not to think of my various cock ups I can totally do," he said, trying and slightly failing not to sound bitter. Maybe he could force himself to sleep. That would work.

Dean was fairly used to Susan mentioning the less savoury parts of her job from time to time, but that didn't mean he was blasé about it and he still winced slightly. "I prefer her as she is," he said, scratching the top her head before digging his fingers into her thick coat and coming down her back and sides.

He sighed. "I don't entirely blame him about the scar thing, we've all got baggage from the Battle, and if I thought there was some sort of quick fix I'd tell him but I'm just going with the hoping he'll feel better in the long run thing. Not like anything I've ever said has helped," he said, unable to stop himself from being defensive for Seamus even now. He scrunched up his face and reached for his drink again. "I was mostly asleep, it was like a really vivid dream. I dream lucidly pretty often and, you know, just thought this one was particularly good," he said, and took a large mouthful of gin and lemonade. "Maybe he'll forgive me eventually," he said.

He managed another slight smile as she indicated his presents. Grabbing them one at a time he exclaimed with pleasure at the bag and the paintbrush holder, both - he was fairly certain - were magically expanded, which Susan confirmed. Then he opened the beret and gave Susan an incredulous look. "What the fuck is it with hats today? First Seamus and now you." He mashed the beret onto his head with little care and attention so that it probably looked all wrong.

Then he began to examine his presents more closely, first unrolling the paint brush holder to see that it had plenty of different sized holes and had a couple of bigger slots if he wanted to slip art knives in there (although he rarely used them), and some truly tiny slots for detail brushes. Then he moved onto the bag, first digging around in the central section which had a couple of spots for quills and a zipped pocket to hide things in. When he opened one of the side pockets however he realised it wasn't empty. He blinked a couple of times and looked at Susan. "Umm, Susan?" he asked.