Richard doesn't take his eyes off Fletch. Not initially, not during his proposition. Afterward, Richard turns his head away, staring at the ceiling. What could Fletch offer short of Isabella's cross and a way back home that would make him give a damn about anything?
God, he was being so maudlin, so pathetic. Why couldn't he do anything? He had to do something. The alternative was total despair. He would be immobile, useless, pointless, and yet... and yet...
What else could he do? And what other emotion was more worthy of his situation than complete despair? He closes his eyes again, taking deep breaths, trying to guard himself against the emotional tumble he knows is inevitable.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2010-05-15 12:39 am (UTC)God, he was being so maudlin, so pathetic. Why couldn't he do anything? He had to do something. The alternative was total despair. He would be immobile, useless, pointless, and yet... and yet...
What else could he do? And what other emotion was more worthy of his situation than complete despair? He closes his eyes again, taking deep breaths, trying to guard himself against the emotional tumble he knows is inevitable.
If only he could distract himself...