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Cath Delaney (dian_cecht) wrote in inpoormerit,

Cathair finished his glass of whiskey before he responded, flinching away from her touch. "My mother was walking home from a ladies' meeting at church," he began quietly. "The IRA and UVF decided to have a fire fight on that street at the same time. I was at the library, studying for my entrance exams. I came home to find my father a mess. There's nothing bloody funny about any of that."

Standing, he couldn't bring himself to even look at her. It wasn't her fault he was so damaged because of all of this. Even if he'd not become one of those bastards, stayed with them so long, he couldn't imagine anything funny about it. Maybe before, when it hadn't destroyed so much he and others cared about. "Money's the least of our worries," he agreed grimly. "Now we just have to worry about what these bastards want with us."

And try to figure out how to escape en masse somehow.