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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Yeah, she did," he said, focussing on making his tea. He needed to do something with his hands. At the time the request had blind-sided him but now... now it made him feel uncomfortable in the extreme. "She made all these arguments about how my flat is terrible and she doesn't mind all my issues, and she's feeling lonely in such a big house, but as much as I don't mind staying over because she drags me out of the studio and shoves me into the spare bed," he paused his agitated talking and took a deep breath. "I love her like a sister, and she's the only one other than you who would actually make me consider it, but honestly I don't think I can. I don't want to re-work all my coping mechanisms, especially not in the middle of getting ready for a show. That's got to be pretty much the definition of a stupid idea."

He went and perched himself on a stool, fiddling with his teacup for something to do, half a thought debating whether to go and light his candle. In the end it was several more moments before he spoke again, having pulled a sketchbook out of one of his pockets and resized it with his wand. "I don't know either," he said, starting to sketch Seamus working with a stick of charcoal hidden between the pages. "I think maybe she was thinking she could make at least one of us see her way," he mused. He scratched at his face, leaving a faintly visible smudge of charcoal on his cheek before continuing his agitated sketching.

"Yeah? I haven't seen her in a few days, saw the journal thing about coming for a drink about five minutes before falling asleep. What's going on?"