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prompt ft. ' i'm the wolf- '
PROMPT:
" do you ever think about her? "
ACTION:
cheers.
there's something comforting in making a confidant out of a stranger. they had only met twice before, and how cliche is it that they only share conversations when perched at the darkest corner of a bar?
Jameson presumes that the other is not lying when he introduces himself as Allan, but he does not take any risks - tells the other that his name is Michael. that he's wandering through smaller towns through out the country. that he needs to start over, after the death of his child's mother.
now, that isn't entirely a lie. when is the last time that he had crossed path's with Gemma? it had to have been a year, at this point. she offered him nothing more than a phone call on fathers day, but their son does not remember him. at least he won't, if they continue on this away.
the entirety of their last Christmas together had been spent earning the trust of a three year old who identified Jameson as nothing more than a stranger, of somebody whom he should not trust. ( i'll hand it to ya, Gem. 'least ya taught him not to talk ta'strangers. )
"do you ever think about her?"
perhaps there is no harm, confiding in someone who can not tell what is a lie versus what is your truth. none of it will matter come the morning, when he's skipping this town and onto the next.
what can he say about Gemma? she's one of the coldest women that he's ever met. one of the most irritable, the most self righteous, the most manipulative and cruel - but she helped to create something so beautiful. something so pure, so full of joy and raw happiness that he's never seen in anyone or anything before. so why is it hard to lie about generous feelings toward her?
"i try not to," he says simply, tosses back a swig of his beer. the bottle is empty, only gives him a drop or two before it's being pushed across the bar and it's swiftly replaced. a nod of acknowledgement to the bartender. he's picked up on Jameson's habit of getting drunk and leaving a fifty behind.
"i think. . .dwelling over it ain't what she would'a wanted."
that lingers between the two for a beat. really settles on his tongue before he swallows down the vile taste of a bitter lie.
hell, the bile that rises in his throat has brows pinching together, and for a moment he may even look distraught - but then Allan raises his bottle. did the nauseating feeling that came with faux sympathy for her convey what sadness may look like on another man? Jameson does not question this, only presses lips in a line to really sell it, and clinks the neck of their bottles together in a cheers.
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