He looks up, confused about her misinterpretation.
'Not about you being a hindrance. I already told you that. But you would put me off my stride.'
There must be Scotch. He gets up and pours one for himself.
'The new bloke's already turned up. It was weird enough putting him in his place while I remembered. If you were there an' all...the place isn't built for me to know what I'm doin', Alex. If I felt like I do now every day, I wouldn' be any use to anyone.'
They need him to be the one fully sure of himself. When they stumble in, scared and not having a clue what's going on, they need him to say 'be here at nine tomorrow', and 'that's your flat, go and live in it', and 'pub, now, and first round's on you'. With a purpose, they can start to sort themselves out.
He drinks, and watches her over the rim.
'When I was on the floor in CID, Keats told all of you that what you had there was living. Somethin' poncy about how you breathe, and love, or somethin'. And you shook your head, and said no.'
He puts his glass down, and crosses his arms. His voice is quiet, but firm.
'You wouldn't want that life, an' you know it. Because it's not real, and it's not Heaven for anyone but me. If I let you stay, I'd be doing everyone a disservice. Probably you most of all.'
no subject
He looks up, confused about her misinterpretation.
'Not about you being a hindrance. I already told you that. But you would put me off my stride.'
There must be Scotch. He gets up and pours one for himself.
'The new bloke's already turned up. It was weird enough putting him in his place while I remembered. If you were there an' all...the place isn't built for me to know what I'm doin', Alex. If I felt like I do now every day, I wouldn' be any use to anyone.'
They need him to be the one fully sure of himself. When they stumble in, scared and not having a clue what's going on, they need him to say 'be here at nine tomorrow', and 'that's your flat, go and live in it', and 'pub, now, and first round's on you'. With a purpose, they can start to sort themselves out.
He drinks, and watches her over the rim.
'When I was on the floor in CID, Keats told all of you that what you had there was living. Somethin' poncy about how you breathe, and love, or somethin'. And you shook your head, and said no.'
He puts his glass down, and crosses his arms. His voice is quiet, but firm.
'You wouldn't want that life, an' you know it. Because it's not real, and it's not Heaven for anyone but me. If I let you stay, I'd be doing everyone a disservice. Probably you most of all.'