Date: 2017-01-09 12:09 pm (UTC)
isolemnly_swear: (close)
James doesn't flinch, but it's a near thing. He should have expected it, really. He is the one who brought it up, even unconsciously in an off-hand comment. He had meant it as a joke, not an opening to this particular conversation, but he made his bed now so he might as well lie in it.

"Wife," he says, forcing the word out. Once upon a time he'd been over the fucking moon to even be able to call her his girlfriend, but now even wife doesn't seem a strong enough word. Lily was everything to him and here he is, sitting around playing cards (kind of) and drinking, and she's dead.

James takes a swallow of his whiskey and busies himself with the rest of the cards on the floor, picking them up idly without really seeing them. He doesn't want to ruin this, he doesn't, but he can feel his throat closing up. "She was, anyway," he says finally, and it's probably the first time he's admitted it aloud.
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