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Dumat: The Dragon of Silence (nearestvessel) wrote in valarlogs,

Samandriel licks his lips while he tries to think, desperately to think a work-around for this. There has to be a loophole somewhere, but he knows that's probably only for cases of abuse. "Single party or do I need both?" he asks. If he catches his father in the right stage of drunk, perhaps he can get him to sign without reading anything.

He wants to apologize again, but knows it won't get him anywhere and that how easily 'sorry' falls from his lips is an issue he's still working on. The toe of his converse is scuffed. Perhaps he should see to that later.

If worse comes to worst, he can just forge her signature and intercept the mail. But... "If she finds out, it won't be an option for me." He looks up at Hannibal. He has a concert tonight. He should be preparing for it, but he knows he'll be fine with an instrument in his hands. That's easier than breathing sometimes.

"I tried once a couple years ago to see someone and she spent an hour lecturing me on the fact that I should be able to manage my own issues just fine and that she expects better of me and all that bullshit." Samandriel stops, clears his throat and says again, "sorry." He shifts so that his posture is as straight as proper as it's supposed to be. "She just doesn't tolerate anyone asking for help. She sees it as a sign of weakness and only to be preyed upon." Hannibal has to know the type.