Re: Facility: Daniel and Holly
Daniel did know exactly "how it goes" when it came to drink, having been in that cycle repeatedly for most of his very long life. He stuffed down some absent guilt, as in his illness he had hardly been of the inclination to dig into his current vice of choice, and that made it all very well, anyway. He and Holly had just met, and he detected considerable grief in the boy's off-hand comments. He knew better than to prod it too closely yet, for it was too soon, even if Daniel sensed his time was probably only growing shorter. He made a murmuring sound of commiseration, but no more, as condemnation for a dead man would help neither of them.
There were a number of boxes yet to be opened, crates really, with international shipping burnt into the sides, of varying age.
"In my day we used to send proper letters, and I don't wonder if relations improved with several months' delay on personal news," Daniel said of the cards, smiling too into the backs of his eyelids. He tried to smother a cough, since they hurt, and after a breath, cracked one eyelid open to catch the look on Holly's face.
"A good mistress is also a good friend and confidante, if that is what you mean." Daniel's dull dark eyes took on a brief suspicious sparkle. "How is it 'kinda similar, child?" This is what came of allowing children of good family to run off on their own and be raised in backcountry gutters, Daniel thought fiercely. They weren't raised with proper funds and the morals such funds allowed.