[text: Roy] A man could, yes. You? No. I will see you at eight.
He trusted and adored Roy, but he also knew that Roy did nothing without reason. He had an idea of what the reason was. Not hard to guess, after he had asked him to keep an eye on Max. After everything, really.
But he owed Roy at least an explanation. Answers to the questions he knew his friend had. Roy had helped him both with getting Max out of prison and with their flight.
When Jacob showed up at Roy’s house that night at six minutes to eight, he was carrying a bottle of Glenfiddich and a heavy feeling in his stomach. But when Roy opened the door after he had rung the bell, Jake was smiling. “You look good for a dead man.”
“Fuck ye, Jake, I look good regardless. Come here,” Roy threw his arms out and drew the taller man in for a warm embrace. Jacob felt thin – he was always narrow, but he’d definitely lost a bit of weight since he’d last seen him. Life on the run was never easy, and his friend wasn’t getting any younger.
To say he was worried was an understatement.
“Come on, then, no sense darkening my doorstep.” He kept a hand on Jake’s lower back, ushering him inside. “Go make yuirself comfortable – no, don’t go trying tae help, ye go relax or I’ll knock ye on yuir arse.”
With no wife or children about to force him to act semi-civilized, Roy had opted to skipping taking their meal at the dinner table and set up in front of the fireplace, where the seats were more comfortable and their plates could be set on the end tables. It was warmer and gave a feeling of intimacy, both of which would make Jacob more inclined to speaking freely. So he returned from the kitchen with two plates of homemade Scottish cooking, setting one on the table next to Jake’s chair and one on his.
“Ahh, shit, glasses –” he remembered out loud, and ducked back into the kitchen, returning with two tumblers for the whisky. The meal was mostly taken with small talk – Jacob asking about the kids and tentatively sidestepping asking too much about Karen, while Roy mostly shrugged, said their grades were alright but Dalia was too like her mother and Teagan was going through one those phases where he didn’t think he had to listen to a damn soul. He made sure to keep Jake’s glass topped off, till the man was looking properly glassy-eyed and flushed.
Luckily for him, Jake had never been much of a drinker. Â
“So… Yuir back in England.” Roy finally said, by way of getting started on his bigger concerns.
