Re: Near the docks: Jeremiah/Liam
It was loud and there were a lot of people, and the fact that Hugh actually agreed with this, was in and of itself, troublesome. Sometimes he didn't always like the ways he could feel that he'd shifted in his house on the hill and he wondered a little if it would have happened anyway, naturally, as he got older, or whether it was only the result of the film, and the courtrooms, and everything that came after. Once upon a time he would have been over on the dance floor, flirting, and trying to find someone to take home with him.
And at this moment the idea felt positively repugnant.
And there was the heart of the question he'd been asked. Was he enjoying the party? No. Did he want to say so? He didn't know. And the fact that he was questioning which he should do was probably entirely Hannah's doing, and it was frustrating because this should be simple. Either say no and expect conversation about why, or shrug it off, because this was a stranger who was owed no part of his story.
He frowned slightly, hands finding his dog's ears, and rubbing the soft hairs behind the base of them. "Enough. I've enjoyed parties more," he shrugged. "But I don't feel much like dancing tonight, and that's usually the best part of any party for me." He turned to look at the man beside him, he looked... sick. And dammit if he was another drug addict, Hugh was out. So out. He clamped down on the cynical tracking and instead tried to remember what it was like to banter easily with strangers. "Do you know people here?"