Damien
oh, let's take a chance and roll the bones
try to forget all them enemies and debts
try to forget all them enemies and debts
Damien huffs out a short laugh at her storybook line, more gravel than mirth, but he doesn’t look away. “If that’s the ending, then somebody else is writing the story,” he says, and though it’s dry, there’s a pause in his cadence and footfalls that admits he isn’t dismissing the thought entirely. Certainly wary of it.
Her laugh hits sharp, her grin daring him, and Damien watches her ride it out, head canted, like he’s trying to weigh whether she really means it about faking. When she lands on stubbornness, though, that pulls a genuine twitch of his mouth, like she’d just named something he knew too well.
“That’s not faking. That’s survival.” His gaze cuts back toward the sea, following the restless gleam of the waves as if the ocean itself might agree. “People like to dress it up, make it sound noble—call it selflessness, sacrifice, all that bullshit. But half the time? Folks just do what they gotta do to get out of bed, same as you said. Nothin’ wrong in that.”
He shifts his weight as he walks, shoulders rolling, the sunglasses catching a glint of sunlight as he tips them back into place. There’s no sermon in his tone, no lecture, just the blunt honesty of someone who’s long since stopped apologizing for it. “I get it. Doing things for yourself isn’t the same as being selfish… you ever feel like the world doesn’t make that distinction?”
Her laugh hits sharp, her grin daring him, and Damien watches her ride it out, head canted, like he’s trying to weigh whether she really means it about faking. When she lands on stubbornness, though, that pulls a genuine twitch of his mouth, like she’d just named something he knew too well.
“That’s not faking. That’s survival.” His gaze cuts back toward the sea, following the restless gleam of the waves as if the ocean itself might agree. “People like to dress it up, make it sound noble—call it selflessness, sacrifice, all that bullshit. But half the time? Folks just do what they gotta do to get out of bed, same as you said. Nothin’ wrong in that.”
He shifts his weight as he walks, shoulders rolling, the sunglasses catching a glint of sunlight as he tips them back into place. There’s no sermon in his tone, no lecture, just the blunt honesty of someone who’s long since stopped apologizing for it. “I get it. Doing things for yourself isn’t the same as being selfish… you ever feel like the world doesn’t make that distinction?”
