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Robert Small [ "knife dad" ] (
2017-07-30 02:49 am (UTC)
[ Robert does
need Joseph to tell him how he lives his life -- and that pang of anger nearly snaps his chin up enough to stare daggers into the paler man. He nearly has to chew on his cigarette to keep from reacting.
'The silver kind' he... jesus, that isn't even what he was asking.
. Joseph reaches out closer to him, and Robert is starting to feel how slippery this slope is getting. He finally looks -- dark eyes jumping up like a defensive dog, taking stock of the details on Joseph...
Hair not quite as cleanly smoothed down on the sides as usual, shirt looking a little too wrinkled. Well, it is pretty late. Robert can't tell if that's a tired shadow around his eyes...or...
Robert swallows. ]
Yeah, well, I know Mary doesn't keep anything but red in the house.
[ Robert grabs the wide margarita glass a little too aggressively, startling the straw and a few drops of semi-frozen slush, which escape his rage and land on the floor. He turns and presses the glass to his lips, forcing a generous mouthful down his throat. He winces around the cold, but -- honestly, he's surprised at how strong it tastes, on all sides. (And Robert is a smoker, who can barely taste most of what he puts in his face.) ]
...Cheers, I guess.
[ A toast to what? Robert keeping his composure, hopefully. ]
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