No, I know, it's still— [My fault. His home, his monster, his memories. Richie shakes his head.] Just that you were there at all. That's damn well enough to be sorry for.
[He listens, though. Fidelio can always be counted on to give it to you straight. Very little mincing of words or dramatics. Today, he gives him something a little extra.
It's not pretty, of course. The mere mention of Stan makes his heart cinch up and hold. It's a struggle not to interject.]
...Why would Stan... [Irrationally:] How was he?
[As if he ran into him at the grocery store. There's a flare of grief playing tattle-tale — he'd only found out shortly before he died himself. Day of. He's had weeks now, but little time to think about it as its own matter. Shit hit the fan fast.
But there's more, too. His lips thin.]
So another one like that. Dropping you into a false life.
[As children. One with a baby brother. He doesn't love the pause preceding it.]
no subject
[He listens, though. Fidelio can always be counted on to give it to you straight. Very little mincing of words or dramatics. Today, he gives him something a little extra.
It's not pretty, of course. The mere mention of Stan makes his heart cinch up and hold. It's a struggle not to interject.]
...Why would Stan... [Irrationally:] How was he?
[As if he ran into him at the grocery store. There's a flare of grief playing tattle-tale — he'd only found out shortly before he died himself. Day of. He's had weeks now, but little time to think about it as its own matter. Shit hit the fan fast.
But there's more, too. His lips thin.]
So another one like that. Dropping you into a false life.
[As children. One with a baby brother. He doesn't love the pause preceding it.]