[ he's completely right: last time was different. last time was forgetting about sleepless nights and old demons, drowning out the bloody morning that surely awaited them — if only for a reprieve, for some comfort in a dreary night. the evening whiled away in the saloon's low light with quick shots and gentle company: because that's what she'd needed that night, to stop thinking about her war on the horizon.
faraday had done that for her.
and here, now, they sit together again with a bottle — but the day has been won, and they've moved forward. or, at least, so much of rose creek has instead, and while emma has put some of her own ghosts to rest (put matthew to rest), she's found herself with a new ghost.
her ghost isn't one to be chased away by alcohol and the morning light, not one to be shunned and feared, and she's found that she has no desire to see him gone.
this week has taught her that.
she gives a little shrug as she considers the last of the bourbon in her glass. ]
It might be.
[yes. because she has no interest in being so drunk she needs his help to get herself to bed or that she finds her words slurred — or worse: tainted with a little too much honesty.
she does, however, finish off the last of her drink, setting her glass down and nudging it away from her (but not for more). ]
But I do think I've had enough.
[ she gestures vaguely to the bottle. ]
You're more than welcome to as much as you want, of course.
[ because the discovery that he can at least taste this, enjoy it to whatever degree he may without ending up the kind of drunk he'd so often been before his death, is another flicker of humanity in this odd half-life, unlife, whatever it was that faraday clung to here. ]
no subject
faraday had done that for her.
and here, now, they sit together again with a bottle — but the day has been won, and they've moved forward. or, at least, so much of rose creek has instead, and while emma has put some of her own ghosts to rest (put matthew to rest), she's found herself with a new ghost.
her ghost isn't one to be chased away by alcohol and the morning light, not one to be shunned and feared, and she's found that she has no desire to see him gone.
this week has taught her that.
she gives a little shrug as she considers the last of the bourbon in her glass. ]
It might be.
[ yes. because she has no interest in being so drunk she needs his help to get herself to bed or that she finds her words slurred — or worse: tainted with a little too much honesty.
she does, however, finish off the last of her drink, setting her glass down and nudging it away from her (but not for more). ]
But I do think I've had enough.
[ she gestures vaguely to the bottle. ]
You're more than welcome to as much as you want, of course.
[ because the discovery that he can at least taste this, enjoy it to whatever degree he may without ending up the kind of drunk he'd so often been before his death, is another flicker of humanity in this odd half-life, unlife, whatever it was that faraday clung to here. ]