NOAH
I wait and tell myself "life ain't chess,"
Noah nodded along as Korbin spoke, his once glacial face softening with understanding and what might look like compassion. He truly did care for the youngest Hale, and it showed. Korbin was dealing with grief, plus what seemed like an identity crisis. For his whole life, he had always been wrapped up in Weaver. Now, he was the way she would be remembered. But what about Korbin? How would people remember him? What did he want? "Okay, if you're still searching for what you want, what don't you want?" Perhaps talking that out might give them an opportunity to find the next right step. In Noah's mind, stopping the drunkenness was the next right step, but he was starting to feel less willing and obligated to tell Korbin the hard things all at once. The getting up, the moving past wanting to die, that was enough for this moment. They would still need to take another step forward, though.
When he went on about the blonde woman Noah's jaw muscles feathered as he clenched up slightly. He knew, without question or hesitation, who Korbin was referencing. Noah had stopped the woman from cutting (and healing) her own wrists and legs and arms night after night after night. Now, that woman shared his bed. He would need to talk with her about what had happened, from her end, but Noah took Korbin at his word for truth. He usually always did (except, of course, when it was easy to tell that Korbin was trying to get the reindeer by his tail). "When I saw you that day in the aviary, I thought that Korbin might take up that offer." He didn't need to add to the boy's grief and guilt, but Noah had been worried sick after that day.
But no one comes in and yes, you're alone...
