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[heliophilic]

This is M. I'm most likely out punching someone. Don't worry, they deserve it.

Probably.

I'll call you back later.

TEXT | VOICE | VIDEO

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[killtime]

[ Not that she'd hang up even if he wasn't fucking with her. ]

That's very wholesome and Christian of you. [ Wryly: ] Think you can squeeze me in for a drink after?

[heliophilic]

I do try.

And I'm pretty sure I can pencil you in. What time?

[killtime]

Couple hours? Doesn't really matter. Not like I'm getting any older.

[heliophilic]

Rub it in, grandma.

I'll be there in an hour.

Are you supplying the booze or do I have to do everything?

[killtime]

I'm sure there's something under the bathroom sink. Or maybe in the nightstand. I'll manage.

[heliophilic]

I'm not drinking sink booze, Andy. I'm a classy bitch, remember?

[killtime]

Bold of you to assume I don't keep the good shit under the sink. Maybe I like a little well-aged whiskey to rinse out my toothpaste in the morning.

[heliophilic]

I don't care if you have Crown Royal next to your Patrón under there, I'm a top shelf bitch, and that means literally top shelf.

I don't want your family's drain backwash.

[killtime]

Yeah, alright, prima donna. You going to bring your high maintenance ass my way or what?

[heliophilic]

Maybe after I have my fun, dear wife. Balls deep, remember?

[killtime]

[ Dryly: ]

Well, hurry up then, or I'm starting without you.

[heliophilic]

Geez, don't rush a good time, grandma. I'll be there soon.

[And seeing as M was, in fact, just sitting on his couch reading a conspiracy "news" blog, he's there in about 5 minutes.]

You're lucky he was a bad lay.

[killtime]

[ She waited about four minutes before popping open the whiskey, apparently. At least she has the glasses out? Fancy.

Shame. [ Dryly: ] Does your other spouse know about that?

[heliophilic]

He's not my spouse. [He's someone else's spouse, and thanks so much for reminding him of that Andy!

M is, however, genuinely impressed by the glasses. Seems a girl can learn.]

Wow this really is a party.

[killtime]

[ Dryly: ]

Neither am I.

[ She nudges a glass his way. Let the party begin. ]

Sit.

[heliophilic]

[Wow what a rude old lady. Why does anyone agree to hang out with you?

Still, M sits next to her and grabs the offered glass.]

So what are we celebrating?

[killtime]

Are we celebrating? [ Wryly, as she makes a point of drinking out of her own glass like a civilized person, just for M. ] Didn't know we needed a reason to drink together now.

[ Giving him a sidelong look: ]

Maybe I just wanted to catch up.

[heliophilic]

[He bumps her shoulder.]

You're old enough to know a line when you hear one.

You going to play 20 questions about me and Apollo? Or are you going to actually talk about your life for a change? Finally fuck that actual husband of yours?

[killtime]

Don't even start with me. [ Dryly: ] This bitch hasn't fucked anybody in a few months at least, and she'll get cranky if you remind her.

[ She bumps his shoulder back. ]

Is that an invitation to play twenty questions about you and Apollo?

[heliophilic]

That sounds like a "you" problem.

[Really, there's no shortage of people to fuck around here.]

Like you needed or wanted an invitation.

[killtime]

[ Can't argue with that. Her romantic life — though she'd strongly decline to call it that — is definitely a blazing disaster. She has no idea what she's doing. Fucking it up, probably? ]

So. Are you together now, or what?

[ Funny that she'd even bother to ask. It's almost like she gives a small shit about M's happiness or something. ]

[heliophilic]

[Unlike the last time they discussed Apollo, M doesn't hesitate, he just nods.]

Yeah, we're together. We've both got our baggage, but we're trying our best.

[killtime]

[ Her eyebrows lift just slightly. She watches him for a long moment, almost contemplative.

After a while, with a quiet sincerity: ]

That's all you can do. [ Briefly, she gives his knee a little squeeze. ] I hope it makes you happy.

[heliophilic]

It does. [A pause.] Makes me feel guilty about it from time to time, but I refuse to let it.

We actually talked about the elephants in the room like we're real adults.

[killtime]

Like real adults, huh.

[ A little wryly, but not unkindly. Not sharp in the way she often is. If anything, despite all the shit she's constantly spouting about how being alone hurts less and attachments only ever end in grief — despite that, it still warms her. To know that someone she cares about has something good. Something that's theirs. ]

Is that what real adults do? Almost makes me feel a little fucking called out.