Nolan was no therapist and he was notoriously terrible with emotions. He couldn’t deal with his own and he certainly was not capable of dealing with other’s. The only feeling that he ever really expressing was anger and that too was being kept on the down low these days to avoid losing his job. So really he had no idea what he was doing there or what he thought he could accomplish. Clearly what she needed was a person who was emotionally healthy themselves, someone who could hear her out and give her sound advice. All he could do at the moment was make sure she got inside, lend an ear, and hope that would be enough for her to stop crying; to miraculously get better on her own so that he wouldn’t actually have to take a stab at giving her advice. The further he embroiled himself in this, the more he realized how little forethought he had given it. Yet he knew even with all the forethought in the world, his actions wouldn’t have been any different. He would have still walked up to her, knowing full well he was lousy at helping.
Permission granted, he held her eye for a moment longer as she looked to him for permission of her own. Her hand hovered until he gave a barely visible nod, providing her physical support which was far easier than the emotional support it appeared she needed. Before anyone else could do such a thing, Nolan drew boundaries for himself which were set in stone. It was rare, though not unheard of, for him to actually break these rules and venture beyond. Tonight was one of those nights but rather than turn on any of the lights in the apartment, he kept his focus on the woman beside him. Somehow he figured the darkness would be easier to handle than being exposed by the light. In fact, Nolan felt himself ease up a bit now that her features were slightly obscured by the blanket of black surrounded them. And part of his task was done as well. Now whether she chose to divulge anymore information or not was up to her. Perhaps in some ways, would be easier on the both of them if she didn’t, limiting their equation to strictly strangers. If she told him more, well they couldn’t be considered friends but he’d know too much to be a total stranger.
“It’s fine.” He wasn’t good at accepting kind words from people, not quite used to hearing them in his life. It was probably the hardest adjustment to make and this hadn’t been the impact of prison. This predated his time inside by many years when all he heard were insults and angry jabs thrown at him by his father, or disappointed arguments between the two older Gallagher men. “Want some water?” Offered as though it were his place even though for everything he needed permission. But by entering the apartment, he tacitly declared he wasn’t planning to leave until she asked him to. “Or something?”
There was so much anger Veronica felt towards.. basically the last eight years of her life. She would stand by her decision to stay with her husband, despite their differences. The vows ‘for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part’ meant something to her and she wasn’t willing to throw it away for differences. And yet, she’d lost the fight in the end. It was for the best, of course, Veronica accepted this as soon as she laid eyes on Heather. For her daughter to grow up with two people who can’t stand one another wasn’t something she would allow to happen. They tried to make it work, it didn’t. She felt trapped in a way, unable to escape although she was free. In the end, this left her here, in this moment.
Nolan wasn’t a complete stranger per say. Heather decided to like him the moment she laid eyes on him, instantly greeting him whenever they were in the hallway at the same time. Veronica often found herself slipping drawings for Nolan into his mailbox with a small ‘sorry :)’ note attached to it. They would exchange words too, but nothing.. like this. This was personal and he was, somehow, willing to guide her through. Veronica managed to keep this side of her hidden from everyone most times, rarely slipping up and admitting emotional defeat. Instead she tried to hide her pain behind a strong facade, her often petty remarks or, well, alcohol. It worked, so she relied on her finessed technique to escape her reality as she’d always done. But considering her facade had already slipped, there was no use to put it on now, right?
Veronica couldn’t quite agree that this was fine and she would have to remember to thank him again, properly, once she was sober enough. For now, she would just.. go with it. “Water sounds like a good idea.” Veronica nodded her head, carefully starting to walk in the direction of the kitchen, still holding onto his arm. “I’m sorry about this. This isn’t.. I’m not usually..” She started to say but she couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence. Who was she trying to lie to here? She was usually drunk, but she had a better way of handling it. But that was about it. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled again. As they finally reached the kitchen, she let go of Nolan’s arm and leaned against the cold counter-top with her backside, head facing into the direction of the floor. She wasn’t sure why she was facing down, if it was the shame or the alcohol, either way, it felt like the best possible option, “My husband decided to imply that I’m a drunk and that all I’m good for is drinking.” She figured giving him an explanation would make this whole situation seem a little less sad. “Sorry, soon to be ex-husband.”
