Re: Cat + Jack: booze and books
Cat thought there was something sweet about the paper kingdom he was describing, however morbid that kingdom might be, and her grin said as much, and all without her opening her mouth or voicing an opinion. An expressive face, or so they said in the orphanage, and it had always gotten her in trouble when she was young. Well, at least until she'd learned to control it.
His version of the cautionary tale? Made her chuckle. "I don't think enjoying fucking was on the agenda back then, Jack, not in most marriages." She took a swallow of her drink, and her expression was cheeky. "And even today? A frightening number of women fake it. Sex? Has always been better for men, and it's only now we're remedying that." She lifted a hand, waggled a finger. Tsk. "We're staring the interview now?" Which wasn't an answer, was it?
"You? Don't get to decide what loss is, Jack." She lifted shoulders again, careless and unconcerned, no real heat in her statement. "It's not yours to decide. It's for every person. Sorry." She wasn't sorry at all.
But he quoted Auden, his face looking pained, and she quirked a brow and lifted the Bovary in her fingers, held it up, brandished it. "Why didn't you bring me Auden? Or did you put Auden on that pyre?" Because, and this was just gut, she thought that perhaps he had.
"There's a reason your windows and doors didn't close? Do tell." And she'd made that killing at a great cost to her liquor supply, thank you very much. Business was business, and she couldn't give it away for free. Not here, in this place where most residents lived fine and had full bellies. No, she wouldn't give anything away here.