Re: The Disaffected/The Entertainer
Miles swallowed booze like he did everything else in life - thoughtlessly. He ambled through days and nights, and he self medicated, and he was all manner of fuck. It worked for him and he didn't see any reason to go changing things. He'd never wanted a picket fence and to become old bones in front of a warm fireplace. Family wasn't what he longed for. He hadn't longed for fame either, but that had just happened. It made his life easy in some ways and hard in others, but he suspected everyone's life could fall into that same pattern of description.
"I'm sure I wrote a song or two about opposites attracting." There had been a lot of songs, but he was sure there were a few that fit the description. He noticed Nicky didn't say anything about anything else involving his lost lover. Miles knew that meant he'd snagged some chord. He knew what dissonance sounded like in echoes. You couldn't play a crowd without being able to read them with some level of skill. He took a swallow, but that was just biding time. He was trying to decide if he cared enough to take that next dive into investment. Asking questions meant getting answers, and there was a point where a friendly drink could become something resembling expectation. "We can't expect other people to make us feel good about ourselves," was what he finally went with. He was a bastard sometimes, but he was an honest one.
He laughed as he lifted the glass again. The lines around his eyes ganged up in mirth, bunching up at the corners. "Don't we all assume someone's out there who had all the good things growing up that we didn't? Think that's just how minds work." He didn't notice the cold, but Miles didn't notice a lot of things when he was three drinks in. "Look, you don't have to work to be who anyone deserves. How about just finding someone who likes your sullen little ass how it is?"