[Admittedly, Clive does not expect the conversation to last much longer after all of this. He debates fully turning away from Sleipnir. Contemplates the merits of another shot or another glass of wine. Thinks about how he is going to get back to his room at the end of the night if he gets too drunk, thinks about how he doesn’t really want to have a hangover tomorrow morning. Anything to stop himself from thinking about how Sleipnir described Barnabas.
Clive blinks and follows the stolen glass’s trajectory and watches as Sleipnir slams two shots in a row. He almost asks him if he is okay then remembers the sheer amount of offense that the other man took when last he asked. The fact that this conversation was determinedly focused on himself was a little difficult to handle.
He thought about opening his mouth to bid the other man a goodnight when Sleipnir spoke again. Every thought he had came to a screeching halt. It was like every stack of little things in his mind that Clive had been carefully treading around were kicked over all at once, scattering and distorting everything. He turns again, staring rather dumbly at Sleipnir, and the only thing he can manage to whisper out is:]
You used my name.
[The rest of it… Clive was wondering if he was too drunk to have that conversation right now. It felt like a sober conversation. Would Sleipnir have even brought any of this up if they were sober? Would he have entertained this? Clive sighs.]
Emphasis on ‘should be’. And the people in my life now care for me without me having to ask.
[As well as they can without Clive being open about it, anyway.]
no subject
Clive blinks and follows the stolen glass’s trajectory and watches as Sleipnir slams two shots in a row. He almost asks him if he is okay then remembers the sheer amount of offense that the other man took when last he asked. The fact that this conversation was determinedly focused on himself was a little difficult to handle.
He thought about opening his mouth to bid the other man a goodnight when Sleipnir spoke again. Every thought he had came to a screeching halt. It was like every stack of little things in his mind that Clive had been carefully treading around were kicked over all at once, scattering and distorting everything. He turns again, staring rather dumbly at Sleipnir, and the only thing he can manage to whisper out is:]
You used my name.
[The rest of it… Clive was wondering if he was too drunk to have that conversation right now. It felt like a sober conversation. Would Sleipnir have even brought any of this up if they were sober? Would he have entertained this? Clive sighs.]
Emphasis on ‘should be’. And the people in my life now care for me without me having to ask.
[As well as they can without Clive being open about it, anyway.]