#sinetactu

Can’t he, though? The whiskey’s a nice warmth in his stomach and the haze in his head is even more welcome-- like this, he doesn’t think of everyone he’s lost. Like this, he doesn’t think of anything except drinking, and breathing, and how nice it’ll be when he finally knocks out and dreams of nothing.

Even Sydney’s presence doesn’t take the haze away, though the corners of his mouth pull down a fraction at the shape of her through the doorway. Pointedly ignoring her observation, Sunny mumbles a little, “...thought you were sleeping.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows Sydney is right. Alcoholism is a serious problem, his ability to function despite it aside. He’s a single father, Henry deserves better, alcohol isn’t going to help him hone his powers, so on and so on and so on...

But his grip on the bottle doesn’t waver, and it doesn’t change the fact there’re two empty ones by his feet on the floor.

“I couldn’t.” The words are jumbled in his mouth, stupid. “Sleep, I mean.” To Sunny’s credit, at least alcohol doesn’t do more than make him sleepy and dumb. “Nightmares again...”

Slowly, his head tilts backward, thumping against the wall behind him.

Henry’s just started to crawl, and Sunny watches him move over the grass on hands and knees with a small smile on his face. They’ve been at Summerland for a few weeks now, and while he hasn’t entirely come to trust them (no-one’s fault but his own, really), he has to admit he’s grateful for the reprieve.

Henry certainly likes it, if the infant’s laughter as he tries to follow a ladybug is any indicator. Sunny watches him with hawk’s eyes; if Henry shows even the slightest hint of fatigue, he’s going to pick him right back up again.

Content with sitting on the grass with his son, Sunny’s head turns a small measure to the side as he hears the rustling of grass behind him. It’s no-one terrible-- he’s come to recognise the footfalls of everyone at Summerland, after all the time he’s spent there-- and the smile that he offers Sydney when she comes isn’t small because he dislikes her. Really, Sunny’s just inept; after decades of being ordered to be cold and calculating, his smiles don’t come easy.

“I don’t have training yet, do I?” It’s one of the things Sunny hates most, he thinks, about being here. He understands the importance of learning his abilities, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating to go through. “I thought I was scheduled for 4 o’clock.”