Date: 2012-03-25 09:25 pm (UTC)
didnothingwrong: (those good old times)
"Oh, come on," Bax says, drawing the syllables out through a grim smile, like he's shouting at a footie match. "Sure, you're successful. Living the high life, your own villa — you probably own half the island by now, eh?"

He's never been good at letting things go. Even if the daggers aren't in his eyes any longer, there's still a bite behind his smile. Bax, he grew up, sure. Studied his fucking life away, had a family, played the dog's body to get where he is. And where is he? Alvo's the one with the money and the estate and the party life, and Bax is going grey putting enough away for Lindsey and Emma to make it through uni.

Fucking hell.

"Yeah," he says, all enthusiasm now. Takes a pull off his pint, says it again. "Yeah, you make the plans, Alvo. Four of us and Rick, we'll have ourselves a proper reunion, eh? Quinn and I will sit in the cantinas and sample the Spanish wines, while you talk us up to the seƱoritas."
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didnothingwrong: (Default)
Baxter

March 2012

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