Re: Log, South Bronx bar: Luke H & Cris M
Course Cris didn't know how Luke and Wren got to where they were, he didn't know if the guy had to fight against his own girl, but he coulda told him it was a shitty feeling, 'cause that was where he was now. Trying to keep something together when the other person didn't want it—or, if they did, they were ashameda that, and refused to let their selfishness win out. Add in her ex and he felt like he was chasing paper in the wind and failing. It was enough to get anybody down, but Cris didn't have the luxurya that. He had his kid. He had Sam, who felt bad enough as it was, and even that was iffy.
Either way, he meant to drink a lil bit, and maybe he'd feel better.
He had no clue 'bout jealousy or whatever it was. He gave a nod when the kid said he'd tell him 'bout his wife if Cris talked about his girlfriend—a word he couldn't use, but he'd correct later. He smiled with Luke, as the other's expression moved into fondness.
"I get the feelin' you're like that too," said Cris open, but he was always direct. To a fault. He took another gulpa his beer. "You don't believe the good stuff 'bout yourself. S'good you got somebody who can see it then, huh? Somebody who can kinda make you believe it every now and again?" He smiled still. "And who you can maybe get to believe the good stuff 'bout her too. World does a good job tellin' us what we're bad at. It's important to remember the good stuff." He sounded old, and Cris almost sighed. But he didn't. He licked his bottom lip."Sam ain't my girlfriend. I dunno what she is, but—I guess names like that are important to her, so, let it be known." He gave a self-deprecating smirk. "She's the same way though, huh? Not seein' the good in herself. There's a lotta it, but I think stuff's gettin' to be too much for her and I don't help." Solemn now, Cris palmed his glass. "How d'you know if you're too different from somebody?"