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2012-03-12 12:22 am (UTC)
Right. Woody, honest as always, can't afford the trip. Quinn can't but pretends he can, and Bax is ready to be anywhere but here, or home. His hands rise, a defensive gesture if ever there was one, but the smile hasn't left his face or his eyes.
"Yes, you should, Bax. All of you should. Look, I don't... I don't mean to make a thing out of it by asking. It's just been a long time, yeah? A long time since I've seen any of you, and..."
And it's good to be back with the people who make him both most and least comfortable simultaneously. At least it's the same as ever. "We'll plan it, make it work, if you really want to. One of these days, when the time's right for everyone. A real holiday. I'm... it's just there's a place for you, for all of you, over there if you decide you want to get away from all this."
He nods behind, to the window, to the rain outside, to the cars on the street, to the people hurrying by with newspapers tucked beneath their arms and that familiar London dispassion on their faces as they try not to look one another in the eye. Fortunately for all of them, the conversation's interrupted by the arrival of drinks. Great panacea, drink: always has been. If he's curious about Woody's choice, far be it for him to mention anything aloud.
"So tell me. Tell me what I've been missing the past... what is it now, almost three years?"
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