It's Welsh

“That’s good advice.” He made a mental note to call Jim later. This was too much info to try and work out over text. “Thanks.” He glanced her way and smiled--actually smiled. The realization caught him off-guard.

“Straight’s fine.” She didn’t actually know what she was talking about. But Jessica drank straight from the bottle and it worked out just fine. It worked out less fine when Hope tried it. She sputtered a little, coughing on the burning liquid.

He’d seen that coming. She didn’t look like a drinker. Was she even old enough? Fuck it, he’d started at eighteen. It was barely a shot. She’d be fine. Probably. She’d be better if she had something to water that down. Llewyn got a soda out of the fridge (they were the only thing Jack said he could take--Llewyn had only had one, not wanting to risk that Jack would be pissed even if he’d said Llewyn could take them) and held it out to her. “Yeah, it’s shit. I know.”

“That’s kind of sad. Maybe you should actually try being less of an asshole.” She frowned down at her knees. It wasn’t like she was being particularly nice to him. Really, she hadn’t been able to muster up the strength to be nice to anyone since prison.

“She almost killed me the first time we met. Yes, I’m scared of her.” He didn’t think it was an exaggeration. She’d kicked his ass, that was for sure. Llewyn found the bottle and passed it to her. “Pretty sure she could snap me in half if she wanted to.”

“That’s just Jessica. I don’t think she’s really all that bad.” Of course, Jessica liked Hope so there was that. “Just because she could snap you in half doesn’t mean she will.”

He shrugged noncommittally. True, but he didn’t trust her not to. Especially not when he’d probably give her a reason to at some point. He always gave people a reason to be pissed at him. “You gonna have that straight, or do you want a coke?”

Her lips roll into a thin line, pressing together to keep some or any of her amusement at the outburst from her face. Irene doesn’t need to be roped into such a display, certainly not in a place like this. She catches his look ( like he would owe her, a stranger, an apology for what happened ) and only offers a nod in his direction, glass lifting gently as if to toast him.

“You still play music for other people. Or try to.” She frowned and scooted back up to the edge of the fire escape to kick her legs out over it. It occurred to her that she actually didn’t know that. At all. “So, you’re an asshole. But not completely selfish.”