Jag had ended up relenting, and letting Val find him something to wear. The truth was, he had no idea how to go about choosing a suit, and the goal here wasn't to embarrass Val. The silver chain he always wore around his neck was hidden under his shirt, and he'd only kept a couple of his silver rings on, and done his best to tame his hair and trim his scruff. He thought he looked like a kid in a fancy dress, wearing those kinds of clothes, but Val seemed to like it, and that was what mattered.
He didn't feel much more at ease throughout the party, not that most people were arseholes. No, most of them were surprisingly friendly, but he couldn't help but feel like they wouldn't have given him the time of day if they'd run into him on the street. Or, maybe, like they would have given him money out of pity, rather than because his number was that good. His issues had issues, at this stage, but he managed to stay civil with the nice ones, and jaw-clenched with the few wankers he normally would have made a point to provoke. Jaw-clenched was a step up on looking for a fight.
It was worth it, though, for every smile Val gave him. Jag might not understand the appeal of this sort of party, but Val was happy to be here, and that was fucking beautiful.
But it had been a long evening, and he'd made a point not to drink too much, and now here came Val's mother. He couldn't help but feel offended, on Val's behalf more than his own, that it had taken her so long to come and see her son. The way he saw it, that should've been her priority. But the Collingwoods clearly didn't function in any way that Jag understood, and he smiled back at her, his unease difficult to pick up on for someone who didn't know him.
"And you, ma'am," he answered, wondering if that was the right way to address her. He tended to call everyone by their first names, but he was so out of his depth in this environment, and calling her Margaret didn't feel right. It didn't help that his accent set him so clearly apart from the lot of them, no matter how he dressed. "It's a lovely party."
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Date: 2015-12-20 09:25 pm (UTC)He didn't feel much more at ease throughout the party, not that most people were arseholes. No, most of them were surprisingly friendly, but he couldn't help but feel like they wouldn't have given him the time of day if they'd run into him on the street. Or, maybe, like they would have given him money out of pity, rather than because his number was that good. His issues had issues, at this stage, but he managed to stay civil with the nice ones, and jaw-clenched with the few wankers he normally would have made a point to provoke. Jaw-clenched was a step up on looking for a fight.
It was worth it, though, for every smile Val gave him. Jag might not understand the appeal of this sort of party, but Val was happy to be here, and that was fucking beautiful.
But it had been a long evening, and he'd made a point not to drink too much, and now here came Val's mother. He couldn't help but feel offended, on Val's behalf more than his own, that it had taken her so long to come and see her son. The way he saw it, that should've been her priority. But the Collingwoods clearly didn't function in any way that Jag understood, and he smiled back at her, his unease difficult to pick up on for someone who didn't know him.
"And you, ma'am," he answered, wondering if that was the right way to address her. He tended to call everyone by their first names, but he was so out of his depth in this environment, and calling her Margaret didn't feel right. It didn't help that his accent set him so clearly apart from the lot of them, no matter how he dressed. "It's a lovely party."