He's not that bad, is he? Well, yes, he is, but come on, it's been years and everyone needs to lighten up. Life's serious enough without this reunion turning into some sort of misery pissing contest, isn't it?
"You know, Bax, I never had the touch. Not of any kind." Look at him: nearing forty, no one in his life who cares. "But if you think I have, then I'm a bigger success than I knew." Laughing, he raises his glass to each of his mates in turn. "You're all a bunch of bastards, you know that, don't you? Don't worry, I include myself in the count."
He could list their endearing qualities off the top of his head: Quinn takes himself so seriously, not that he's ever had a lot to laugh about but it suits him. Someone's got to be the serious one. Bax lies, always has, and if he wanted to play shrink he could say it's because he's never valued himself the way he ought to do: he's got so much heart, Bax. And Woody, tightly-wound and self-effacing, but the most open and honest of any of them. As far as his own flaws go, he's a pain in the arse, too quick to hold up the mirror to everyone's face but his own, but that's only because he knows where he falls down. That's not something he's willing to spend time thinking on, not at the moment.
If Rick was here, he'd be oblivious as always. It's not that he's stupid -- anything but -- although he gives off a good impression. Still, people see something in him, and he's got that open gregarious cheerful scorn thing going, and he pulls it off so convincingly.
"Look, I... I know it's been a long time. You want to hear stories? I can tell you stories. But they're only going to make you want to join me on the island, and I honestly don't know if I can stand the idea of none of you being over there with me. Or of all of you being over there with me."
It's just a backwards way of inviting them, yet again. He might not miss London, but he misses them. Maybe by the end of the next round they'll start to realize that.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-03-17 07:23 pm (UTC)"You know, Bax, I never had the touch. Not of any kind." Look at him: nearing forty, no one in his life who cares. "But if you think I have, then I'm a bigger success than I knew." Laughing, he raises his glass to each of his mates in turn. "You're all a bunch of bastards, you know that, don't you? Don't worry, I include myself in the count."
He could list their endearing qualities off the top of his head: Quinn takes himself so seriously, not that he's ever had a lot to laugh about but it suits him. Someone's got to be the serious one. Bax lies, always has, and if he wanted to play shrink he could say it's because he's never valued himself the way he ought to do: he's got so much heart, Bax. And Woody, tightly-wound and self-effacing, but the most open and honest of any of them. As far as his own flaws go, he's a pain in the arse, too quick to hold up the mirror to everyone's face but his own, but that's only because he knows where he falls down. That's not something he's willing to spend time thinking on, not at the moment.
If Rick was here, he'd be oblivious as always. It's not that he's stupid -- anything but -- although he gives off a good impression. Still, people see something in him, and he's got that open gregarious cheerful scorn thing going, and he pulls it off so convincingly.
"Look, I... I know it's been a long time. You want to hear stories? I can tell you stories. But they're only going to make you want to join me on the island, and I honestly don't know if I can stand the idea of none of you being over there with me. Or of all of you being over there with me."
It's just a backwards way of inviting them, yet again. He might not miss London, but he misses them. Maybe by the end of the next round they'll start to realize that.