I'm fine with it!
Strel was staring off into the distance, a past that he could not longer grasp with his fingers. Once, these memories fell through his fingers like water, and now they pooled in his cupped hands. He no longer reached for them, these cursed memories. They poured into his mind, racing across his conscious thought. Whatever had happened to these moments, thoughts of the past, of his lovers, his friends? Who was left now to remind him of the laughter, the sadness, the anger? Mati was gone, enjoying the rest of her life with her mate in Italy. His mate had left him to go back to his home tribe, with his sister. His sister had won out, in the end. What happened to Hemming, back when he was young and naive? Leroy, when he was blindly attracted and experienced a man for the first time? What happened to Rikka, to Jacquez, to Svara? Who was left? It was a dreary thought, that he was the last one left of his old world.
Him.
Only him.
The Serf had not noticed the change in the other man's demeanor, only that there had been a shift in the awkward silence that had hung between the two of them. Then, startled out of his thoughts, his painful memories, the redhead's eyes widened. He swallowed hard, then composed himself. It was strange, this, but it felt more like he was a mentor than anything else here. He was old, and he was weak, there was no chance for romance. Before, maybe he would have taken the chance at seduction, but not so much now.
"Uh..," he began, as the other man covered himself up. Whatever was going through Trent's mind? "I guess that alcohol really did go through you..," he said softly as he reached over to grab the bottle out of his hand. It was a gentle touch, nothing more than an older man reassuring a younger. Would Ahiga have done what he had done if Strel had been more like this? A carefully stilled hand touched Trent's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "It's alright," reassured the tailor, setting the bottle carefully down on the floor. "I assume it wasn't me you were thinking about, though." He was old, too old. Five was not old, but he was getting on in years, and he felt so tired.
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