Even if Alastor wanted to sleep, Lotte was simply too interesting to allow it. It was hardly his fault, was it, if she wouldn't stop saying things that sparked his curiosity, that begged another question, that made him want to reach out his thin fingers and grope inside her brain to see the way it all worked together, that wheel of naivety turning in time with that wheel of fierce fire that propelled her.
He chuckled darkly. "And how I'd love to see them try to drown me. All the better for them, if they had." Alastor's father, in his last days, said he regretted his son. And Alastor always thought that was quite a curious thing to claim, to regret the child, but not the action that begot it. As if it was the child's fault, somehow. As if it could have prevented the mistake of its own conception.
"Do you think," he asked, leaning intently towards Lotte, though his eyes were nearly back to swirling again, with the alcohol, "your parents made a mistake when they birthed you?"
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Even if Alastor wanted to sleep, Lotte was simply too interesting to allow it. It was hardly his fault, was it, if she wouldn't stop saying things that sparked his curiosity, that begged another question, that made him want to reach out his thin fingers and grope inside her brain to see the way it all worked together, that wheel of naivety turning in time with that wheel of fierce fire that propelled her.
He chuckled darkly. "And how I'd love to see them try to drown me. All the better for them, if they had." Alastor's father, in his last days, said he regretted his son. And Alastor always thought that was quite a curious thing to claim, to regret the child, but not the action that begot it. As if it was the child's fault, somehow. As if it could have prevented the mistake of its own conception.
"Do you think," he asked, leaning intently towards Lotte, though his eyes were nearly back to swirling again, with the alcohol, "your parents made a mistake when they birthed you?"