closed starter || @msqvinn || adam
these dinners are normally so nice. a relaxing little break from reality --- a moment to breathe easy and know that business won’t be a topic on the table. he couldn’t even try to argue that any o’shea treats him poorly, per se, but the underlying tension thickens the air any time he finds himself in a room with a family member. the irony of his church being the furthest thing from true sanctuary that he can imagine is not lost on him, by any means.
his sanctuary --- ?? that would be the home of one aoife quinn. she is, perhaps, the closest thing to a mother, a sister, and a friend he has in this world --- wrapped into one package far better put together than adam could ever dream to be. except, tonight he feels that familiar tightness in his chest that comes along every sunday after mass, when only a choice few stray behind in the pews, discussing god knows what. and he knows it shows on his face, too. he’s never mastered the art of stoicism.
it’s an uncomfortably long silence that finally forces him to speak his mind.
“Aoife --- “ it catches in his throat.
“ --- Aoife, I think I’ve got to ask you something a little unpleasant.”
