Re: log: dylan & max
The sudden showcase of his smile turned self-aware the moment that she commented on its rarity. His lips lost the curve and went for straight befor ehe tucked an edge into his teeth. He shrugged. "I guess its easier to see the things that are worth smiling about these days." Which was a lie, because nothing was easier, and he realized it as soon as the easy answer came out of his mouth. Dylan drew a sharp breath like giving up, and shook his head while tasting the whiskey on the edge of his teeth. He watched the bartender shake cocktails and he excavated for the truth. "I don't know, I guess I hope that Sesame Street was right and practice really does make perfect. I'd say 'fake it until you make it,' but I didn't have to fake that smile." He hoped that she knew that was a compliment, although Dylan didn't recall Max ever taking those easily.
Dylan also didn't remember himself as ever necessaily being depressive or grim, not to the degree that a smile might have been considered rare. But then again, he could recall too many times where he'd been too serious, too quick to follow the rules, and maybe too pessimistc as well. But shit, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he'd lost a lot after Mexico. Hindsight, right? He could look back on it all now, even his getting fired from what he'd thought had been his dream career, and it all seemed so transitory. Fucking trivial. He'd wasted so much of himself on those sour thoughts and never-going-to-works. He hadn't felt like he needed to dream then, and now he wasn't sure if he was even able to anymore. Wanting for anything felt like an accident waiting to happen. His hopes had broken legs, they weren't getting up for anything. Or so he promised himself, but damn if it wasn't difficult to feel good for just a second in this bar, with a brewing buzz, and the company of someone he knew he could trust.