[ Midnight's still smiling. When he sees his means of escape snipped away, one by one... Well, he at least has the grace to look away as the smile drops.
He honestly considers standing and leaving. It's not worth the mixed signals, much less Daan's ire, but the compulsion is there. Still... He picks up the water, drinks, then puts the glass down before speaking again. ]
This letter is one of several. At least, oh... thirty, I'd say. Twenty years' worth, more or less.
[ Midnight snorts, but it's out of derision this time. Inwardly directed. Stupid. A fool. The one he acts, but writ too large. ]
She really wanted me home. For twenty years... Not that I knew that.
[ Midnight drinks again, looks at the glass. Stupid. This couldn't be liquor now. He should've asked for another. ]
I couldn't bring myself to open them. Twenty years ago, I ran away from home. What's the point of reaching out after that long? What could we possibly still have in common? Nothing, really. So I never opened them. This is the last letter I got before leaving the country. Think I might've put it out with my burnables. Not sure how it got here.
[ ... So, some unopened letters, an estranged son, a runaway. Pretty standard fare, honestly. Midnight sucks at his teeth. It's not enough. Not enough for the compulsion, not nearly enough for a fair exchange. ]
no subject
He honestly considers standing and leaving. It's not worth the mixed signals, much less Daan's ire, but the compulsion is there. Still... He picks up the water, drinks, then puts the glass down before speaking again. ]
This letter is one of several. At least, oh... thirty, I'd say. Twenty years' worth, more or less.
[ Midnight snorts, but it's out of derision this time. Inwardly directed. Stupid. A fool. The one he acts, but writ too large. ]
She really wanted me home. For twenty years... Not that I knew that.
[ Midnight drinks again, looks at the glass. Stupid. This couldn't be liquor now. He should've asked for another. ]
I couldn't bring myself to open them. Twenty years ago, I ran away from home. What's the point of reaching out after that long? What could we possibly still have in common? Nothing, really. So I never opened them. This is the last letter I got before leaving the country. Think I might've put it out with my burnables. Not sure how it got here.
[ ... So, some unopened letters, an estranged son, a runaway. Pretty standard fare, honestly. Midnight sucks at his teeth. It's not enough. Not enough for the compulsion, not nearly enough for a fair exchange. ]