[ His face against his shoulder is a familiar weight, a comfort in this strange world. The two of them, alone, ready to tackle this world together- it feels natural, that if they should be stuck on the road to heaven or hell, that they do it together. Softly, his fingers curl into Goody's hair to keep him there, to keep his warm breath against his shoulder. Breathing in time. ]
I wanted you to leave, cher.
[ The word is one he hardly echoes to Goody, reserved for the most grave of nightmares and worst of memories. A word just for him, holding full weight and meaning behind it. There are others, only for behind closed doors. Only for when he's half awake or fully drunk and mumbling in his mother tongue. For now, however, it's the word that Goody uses. Dear.
Goody isn't right about himself- Billy had driven him away. Had added fuel to the fire of Goodnight's fears and superstitions. The bottle of whiskey at the bar had been his only comfort the night before their doom. ]
I didn't mean a word of what I said, Goody. You should know that.
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I wanted you to leave, cher.
[ The word is one he hardly echoes to Goody, reserved for the most grave of nightmares and worst of memories. A word just for him, holding full weight and meaning behind it. There are others, only for behind closed doors. Only for when he's half awake or fully drunk and mumbling in his mother tongue. For now, however, it's the word that Goody uses. Dear.
Goody isn't right about himself- Billy had driven him away. Had added fuel to the fire of Goodnight's fears and superstitions. The bottle of whiskey at the bar had been his only comfort the night before their doom. ]
I didn't mean a word of what I said, Goody. You should know that.