All of the shoulders Lochlan is giving to Ben lately are ice-cold. He's angry. Even though New Years Eve has traditionally had a short memory and a long forgiveness period it's clear nothing has changed. The Devil is hungrier than ever, Ben's own cravings never cease and we're going to enter into 2016 like she's a reluctant bride on her wedding night.
(Oh, I didn't coin that phrase but it made me laugh because I'm crass and was raised by wolves.)
I hope they make up soon. We need a united front right now to provide support for Sam, and for Caleb, both of whom seem to exist in perpetual midlife crises these days.
Sam and Matt have filed for divorce. Uncontested. No children, no joint assets and a pro-rated, retroactive separation date achieved with advice from my good lawyers and a lot of travel on Matt's side. This seems cheap and harsh to me, as if marriage can be boiled down to a few pieces of paper, some dates and a judge to sign off, eventually. I wouldn't know, though. I've never made it to that stage of life, if you want to be technical. I offered them my lawyers paid time but they're going to DIY. I offered them anything they needed and I tried not to cry but when I did anyway I got to be the meat in a Matt and Sam-wich and that was nice, at least. They're walking the high road together and I maintain we could learn more than just a thing or two from them, even though I wish they would keep trying.
Duncan finds all of this inevitable and sad and maintains this is why he refuses to indulge in relationships. He said it with a huge smirk, though.
That look destroys your credibility, Poet.
Almost bagged you, Bridge.
No, you did not and any embellishment on New Years Eve can be kept to your and Ben's collective imaginations.
You never ever want to see those.
Right, I don't.
What happened to the Curious Miss Bee?
Good question. Oh, Batman's here. Great.
I need to go help Sam.
Bridget, can I have a word?
Sure. How about no? No is a good word.
