"I'm not sure we're doing anything," as he nudges Lucius' unmentionables in against the wall and closes the door.
"Guess this is happening. Just the teacups if you're that sort."
But he is not, and it has been slugging from the bottle.
Izzy tells himself he should shut this down right here and now. Do them both a favor and have Lucius return the unknown, terrorizing number of shirts so they can get on with their lives.
It makes sense, of course it does, but their lives are now very, very different and to be honest he doesn't feel as though he has much of one. A little daily contact, even with someone so endlessly frustrating and challenging and reluctant to fall into line. Seeing the man gives Izzy that little spark of normalcy.
Makes it that little bit easier to ignore the gnawing boredom and loneliness. Edward is busy with Stede and whatever bullshit it is they're playing house about right now, so where does that put him?
What and who is he without Edward's shadow to carefully tidy up behind?
A haunting question he has never once needed to ask before this. The one time it came close Ed needed saving from himself and Izzy rained down the full fury of The British Navy to make it happen. If he thought that was even remotely a possibility right now then he would do it.
So this is the best the Serena Eterna has to offer, is it.
Lucius fucking Spriggs.
Without whom he would not have so few small pleasures as a cup of tea of delightfully sinful purple whatever drink (another two of them having been procured later in the yesterday when he was certain no one he knew was around).
Yep. Guess this is happening.
Terribly, he supposes it could be worse.
"This torture thing," he asks and resigns himself to the reality of the moment, coming back to sit on the end of his bed facing the coffee table.
no subject
"Guess this is happening. Just the teacups if you're that sort."
But he is not, and it has been slugging from the bottle.
Izzy tells himself he should shut this down right here and now. Do them both a favor and have Lucius return the unknown, terrorizing number of shirts so they can get on with their lives.
It makes sense, of course it does, but their lives are now very, very different and to be honest he doesn't feel as though he has much of one. A little daily contact, even with someone so endlessly frustrating and challenging and reluctant to fall into line. Seeing the man gives Izzy that little spark of normalcy.
Makes it that little bit easier to ignore the gnawing boredom and loneliness. Edward is busy with Stede and whatever bullshit it is they're playing house about right now, so where does that put him?
What and who is he without Edward's shadow to carefully tidy up behind?
A haunting question he has never once needed to ask before this. The one time it came close Ed needed saving from himself and Izzy rained down the full fury of The British Navy to make it happen. If he thought that was even remotely a possibility right now then he would do it.
So this is the best the Serena Eterna has to offer, is it.
Lucius fucking Spriggs.
Without whom he would not have so few small pleasures as a cup of tea of delightfully sinful purple whatever drink (another two of them having been procured later in the yesterday when he was certain no one he knew was around).
Yep. Guess this is happening.
Terribly, he supposes it could be worse.
"This torture thing," he asks and resigns himself to the reality of the moment, coming back to sit on the end of his bed facing the coffee table.
"What's it like?"