Re: Log, South Bronx bar: Luke H & Cris M
Nah, see, it wasn't so much Luke, as it was Cris. Not to sound conceited or nothing, but Cris knew how to read people good. It'd been his job for years and alla that, huh? So it wasn't so much that the kid wasn't a book closed to the world, as it was that the other guy was a master at figuring out summaries from nothing but a book jacket and cover.—Another sip of the cold beer, and he was loosening up too a bit, huh? He wasn't often relaxed, not really, but he let himself ease a bit, finding himself in good company and with a distinct need to let go a bit. He listened with attention to Luke talking about his wife, about himself, and his dark eyes settled on the smile that carved at the 'seeing the good in each other.' The double 'really' was also interesting to him, as well as amusing in its sweetness, and Cris' smile was soft in return.
"That's good. Sometimes you need somebody to see the good in you, if you can't yourself. We all got moments like that. People need people." He almost shrugged, but he was no good at blasé, so it came out sincere—and it was, really. He nodded at his bottle, before he looked back up at the question about love. "I love her." Agreement. Firm. "She, ah, she said it to me, twice, but it scares her. But, she loves me back. I think if you got that, you can work through almost anything, but I gotta feeling I'm in the minority there 'round here." Again, he nodded when the kid talked about taking stuff personally. 'Cause it was hard, after a while, to keep giving the same reassurances and never be believed. But, what could he do?
"'Too' anything don't really work for me. For the way I think. But," Cris looked at Luke again, blinking and thoughtful. "We don't understand each other. I don't think she understands herself. But she's young and I'm old, so—" He tapped on his bottle, smiling small. "Whaddaya mean 'on paper'? You both love each other, huh? That's a big thing to have in common."