Re: log: dylan & max
She could tell something had bothered him, but she was both too drunk and too oblivious to tell what. She was good at what she did, good at sleeping nights after watching the life go out of someone's eyes, and there was a price to that. Emotion wasn't something she was good at figuring out, even if she wore her own heart unintentionally on her sleeve.
Nothing felt real. She questioned it every day, and that was something new for someone who'd lived her entire life with her feet firmly planted on solid ground. She was a card carrying Republican, and she believed in taxes and God and the military. She believed that shit without question, and without much thought. But now none of it seemed quite real. It hadn't felt real out in New York, and it didn't feel real here. But she was good at boozing the new questions away, and she was good at hiding her head in the sand.
He grinned, and she grinned back. The grin was easy, drunk and fuzzy and fond. "Fuck you. I was never too young for anything." That would require having a childhood, and she hadn't. She didn't worry about his flirtation either. She was wasted enough that it just felt nice, warm swirling around her middle, and no concern about later.
The shakes came, and she tugged the strawberry toward her. She didn't give up her comfortable slouch against her shoulder; she just sipped. "Do you wish you were still in California?" It was a loaded question, maybe, but it didn't seem important as she sucked on the straw.