location: imogen’s home. who: @imogenoriley
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------TWO HUNDRED AND fifty years was a long time to learn the nature of a person, specifically a sibling. more specifically than that, the one sibling jesse really and emphatically had given more than a quarter of a shit about in the past decade. he worried about her. he’d never voice it aloud. but habits were established in their many years alive together, and though the cellphone was merely an infant compared to the lifeline of leilana and jesse beaufort, he knew that if he texted her she answered.
he’d texted.
she hadn’t answered.
it had been more than enough time to. her home was empty - knocks, rapidly rung doorbells, entering without permission had yielded no response whatsoever. so now he was maybe a little worried, but mostly he was FURIOUS. the next logical step was the o’riley’s and all of their nosiness in leilana’s life. specifically one o’riley with whom jesse had less than zero interest in entertaining presently. PERHAPS IT WAS THE STALE SCENT OF ALCOHOL THAT ALWAYS LINGERED ON HIM, or the lingering effects of whatever else he had taken that made jesse’s nose wrinkle at the thought. point was: torin o’riley had no fucking business sniffing around jesse’s sister, and that was who he’d blame first for her lack of a response. but to circumvent needing to actually speak to torin o’riley ...
three sharp knocks announced his presence at the door of a sister instead. imogen, whom he’d met perhaps once or twice but remembered well-enough. he’d rather deal with someone just as prickly as he was than someone not mentally present. oh, how sorry for yourself you are, aren’t you?