Re: Dock: Clementine & Declan
You dry your eyes about him, about any of them. [She said that it would help to hear it, and he gave easily. Must have been the booze. Or the pills. Or both. But he deposited the bottle onto the boards of the dock one more, somewhere back near the legs of his chair so that it wouldn't be kicked over by either of them. He stretched his bad leg out, and it didn't feel so bad. There was only a bit of ache, although he knew better than to stretch too much. The medicine didn't make him invincible, it just made the day tolerable. Maybe that was a misconception about the medicine, it didn't kill pain, just dulled it's bite.
Declan sunk down a bit in the chair, pitching her an inch of two deeper into his chest. Then, he continued.] Your sister, she's gone, she's been gone. It takes a certain kind of man to ignore what is in front of him for favor of bad dreams. [What could memories of a lost woman be, aside from bad dreams?] You wanted him. [And those words? They were a hiss that came through his teeth, and he tipped his jaw when her lips whispered words along his jaw. Those brushes were soft, but they stirred his stomach tighter. Now might have been the time that he would have kicked her off the dock and into the water if he'd been younger, but he wasn't so young anymore. Maybe he was more Murphy than he remembered.
The sky was darkening now, he thought it was about time. Declan tipped his head to the rear, tilted to the back of the chair, and landing her grazing, whispering mouth a bit more down on his throat. A bit more away from his mouth, and he had the fleeting clarity to think that was a good idea.
She mentioned his wife, and that knot in his throat moved with a deep swallow.] I don't want to talk about her...