your fingers curl around the leather jacket that hangs over arm of the couch. head turns as you glare at grant for his choice of insult. it’s funny to think that you once held resentment against a man you didn’t really know. they’re kin ; not by blood, but by choice, something more than you thought you’d ever get the chance to have. “ i ask for good measure. and stop insultin’ my choice in alcohol. i’m not tryin’ to get myself wasted all the time. ” you slip arms through the sleeves and take steps toward the door yourself, promptly running fingers through disheveled hair. “ but i’ll make the exception for you, good sir, ” you say with a crooked smile, genuine, unlike all the ones you’ve faked in the past to get by. “ whisky good enough for you? ”
@freedomfallen con’t.d
