Harper
Anything beautiful, people want to break
And you are beautiful, I'm afraid
And you are beautiful, I'm afraid
How many indeed? It's a question he has been asking himself for the better part of a year, and having Phoebe here is only a reminder that this is - somehow - not the first time it has happened to him. But he can't find it in himself to wish her gone, because her presence is the only thing keeping him from wandering back to the half-full bottle on the table.
His free arm perches on his thigh, and he drops his head into his hand as she immediately becomes firm, taking control of the situation as she has so many times before. It sounds like a perfect fix, but - "'s not that easy. Torchline needs me. 'd have to talk to Hadama at the very least, and...and this is my home." His voice breaks pitifully on the word, and the fingertips on his face dig in harder, going white with pressure as they hide the sudden sting of tears that threaten behind his eyes. He doesn't want to leave. Maybe he can find a different house - a third one, Gods damn it all - to escape the living ghosts who don't find him worthy of haunting.
Phoebe disappears moments later, and Harper is too disoriented to follow her with his gaze even if he wanted to. Only forcing himself to emerge from his palm to focus on something she's handing him. "Thanks," he murmurs gruffly, and downs it without even wincing. It has nothing on the cheap burn of whiskey, and he trusts her to have made it right.
His free arm perches on his thigh, and he drops his head into his hand as she immediately becomes firm, taking control of the situation as she has so many times before. It sounds like a perfect fix, but - "'s not that easy. Torchline needs me. 'd have to talk to Hadama at the very least, and...and this is my home." His voice breaks pitifully on the word, and the fingertips on his face dig in harder, going white with pressure as they hide the sudden sting of tears that threaten behind his eyes. He doesn't want to leave. Maybe he can find a different house - a third one, Gods damn it all - to escape the living ghosts who don't find him worthy of haunting.
Phoebe disappears moments later, and Harper is too disoriented to follow her with his gaze even if he wanted to. Only forcing himself to emerge from his palm to focus on something she's handing him. "Thanks," he murmurs gruffly, and downs it without even wincing. It has nothing on the cheap burn of whiskey, and he trusts her to have made it right.
But I would love you in any form you take
