Saturday, 9 July 2016

Worst/best conversation ever.

Duncan is trying skip rocks on a roiling sea this morning in the rain. I'm balancing on a rock nearby with my teacup and we're somehow not mortal enemies.

Because hope still exists, Duncan says.

For what? I ask innocently, but I know better as he winks at me.

I'm teasing you, Bridget. And frankly, I don't know what I would have done had you invited me into that room. Part of me would have grabbed you on the spot, the other would have sent you upstairs with a lecture and a smack on the arse to make you cry for being tough on Loch again. I'm here but for the grace of his generosity and nothing more-

No, you're here but for the grace of MINE. 

Damn. Wish I'd known that yesterday. And he smiles a rueful smile and I smile back really big and we're okay, we're just plain awful.

It's raining, Duncan. We should go back and make coffee. 

Yeah, we should. Think they hate us?

The plebes always hate the beautiful people, I tell him and he laughs harder.

For the little fragile miss, you've got a 'narse streak a mile wide. 

It's an act. 

That's the sad part, but you're a great actress. 

I know. Suddenly the levity is gone.

I wouldn't of turned you down, Bridge. 

I would have offered, Dunk, but I couldn't. Are we good?

We're always good, Babe. I think somehow keeping ourselves on our toes works. 

You do realize they had a pool going. 

Bridge, there's one for every guy you haven't slept with yet, my brother included. 

Wow. Nice to be known as the point whore. 

Well, you are the only woman here. Slim pickings. Not like there's much of you to be had even if you did go around.