Re: log: blake and graham, thorne house
The way Blake smiled made Graham wonder what he'd seen, what he knew, but he didn't ask. People were capable of all sorts of things, especially under the right circumstances. They could throw each other to the wolves. They could be brave, or they could be selfish. They could tear into another person with their teeth and not care. He knew the kind of man he was, and that was all he needed to know. He wouldn't let a woman and her kid die just to save his own hide, he wasn't worth that much.
He watched the other man with new interest. His glass was almost empty, and he sipped the rest of the whiskey slowly. Blake's color came, went, and came back again, flushed with something like embarrassment, maybe, or nerves, or it might have just been the booze. It was dark and difficult to tell. He was quiet, silence and a stare that was piercing without meaning to be, and he didn't understand. At first, it made no damn sense. Should have come to him here about what, but then he mentioned the journals, keeping his business to himself, and it clicked. His expression changed from curious to closed off, like he'd just shut right down, and his eyes narrowed just a sliver. Graham wasn't a violent man unless he needed to be, and he gave no indication that this was one of those instances.
"It was you." Graham downed the rest of the whiskey and set the glass down. He didn't care where, didn't look, just the first hard surface his fingers found. He tipped his head to the side. "Why didn't you? Why put it all over the damn journals?"