"A charming comparison," Val replied. Though where Jag seemed angry, Val
was more- Worn down. Worried even, in a way.
"Can I ask you something, Jag? Do you- Do you even like me as I am?" he
asked softly. "That's not- I'm not upset or angry, I'm not trying to start
a fight, but- Do you? Or do you just like the image of me, the costume I
cling to. I run a museum for gods sake, man. I work late hours, I attend
charity balls. Yes, when we first met, I was still a bit of a cad, but
these days- I'm quite mellow when the wolf's not in control. If I turned up
to our next date wearing a suit and tie, no make-up- Do you think you'd
still be interested? Do you want me, Jag? Or- Or do you, maybe, wish I was
the man I was before you knew me."
And he really wasn't trying to start a row, his words were gentle and his
voice soft. After all, he knew what he looked like still. He looked like
the man who'd run off to Mexico once and spent the entire trip high. He
looked like the young man who'd bought a motorbike purely to shock his
family. He looked like the aimless drifter he'd once been- But that wasn't
who he was now. It was just a costume he couldn't seem to part with, an
image he desperately clung to, even now as an adult.
no subject
"A charming comparison," Val replied. Though where Jag seemed angry, Val was more- Worn down. Worried even, in a way.
"Can I ask you something, Jag? Do you- Do you even like me as I am?" he asked softly. "That's not- I'm not upset or angry, I'm not trying to start a fight, but- Do you? Or do you just like the image of me, the costume I cling to. I run a museum for gods sake, man. I work late hours, I attend charity balls. Yes, when we first met, I was still a bit of a cad, but these days- I'm quite mellow when the wolf's not in control. If I turned up to our next date wearing a suit and tie, no make-up- Do you think you'd still be interested? Do you want me, Jag? Or- Or do you, maybe, wish I was the man I was before you knew me."
And he really wasn't trying to start a row, his words were gentle and his voice soft. After all, he knew what he looked like still. He looked like the man who'd run off to Mexico once and spent the entire trip high. He looked like the young man who'd bought a motorbike purely to shock his family. He looked like the aimless drifter he'd once been- But that wasn't who he was now. It was just a costume he couldn't seem to part with, an image he desperately clung to, even now as an adult.