When Angeal moves, it's to uncap one of the jars in a pop and a faint whiff of fermentation, and pour some of the faintly orangeish tinged stuff into the mason jar. He is indeed occupied, and maybe he's best off being left to it?
But the jar is held out instead. "Tell me what you think."
Though he doesn't say which one it is, chances are astronomically high he wouldn't try to poison Zack on purpose. And indeed it just.. tastes like normal alcohol, perhaps with a fruitier edge than most meads have.
It is of course a distraction, as it means while Zack works on drink, he can work on a response. Something beyond kneejerk reaction, that might sound hollow and trite, nothing more than expected replies and nothing truly felt.
"I never really know what to say to that kind of thing." He doesn't have a kitchen to make use of, few if any inmates did, so the next mason jar he finds is just sitting on an end table. "'You're forgiven' always sounds terribly arrogant. 'You have nothing to apologize for' is ... dismissive. I never thought you were angry I was here. ...Hurt, maybe. After so many years having the reminder of it all shoved in your face couldn't be pleasant."
Like ripping open old wounds to bleed anew. "...But you're always forgiven, and you don't have anything to apologize for. I know I can be infuriating; I've made more than my share of mistakes, Gaia knows I have." The jar is rolled around in his hands, as if somewhere on its glass surface could be found all the answers he wanted.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-01-10 08:04 pm (UTC)But the jar is held out instead. "Tell me what you think."
Though he doesn't say which one it is, chances are astronomically high he wouldn't try to poison Zack on purpose. And indeed it just.. tastes like normal alcohol, perhaps with a fruitier edge than most meads have.
It is of course a distraction, as it means while Zack works on drink, he can work on a response. Something beyond kneejerk reaction, that might sound hollow and trite, nothing more than expected replies and nothing truly felt.
"I never really know what to say to that kind of thing." He doesn't have a kitchen to make use of, few if any inmates did, so the next mason jar he finds is just sitting on an end table. "'You're forgiven' always sounds terribly arrogant. 'You have nothing to apologize for' is ... dismissive. I never thought you were angry I was here. ...Hurt, maybe. After so many years having the reminder of it all shoved in your face couldn't be pleasant."
Like ripping open old wounds to bleed anew. "...But you're always forgiven, and you don't have anything to apologize for. I know I can be infuriating; I've made more than my share of mistakes, Gaia knows I have." The jar is rolled around in his hands, as if somewhere on its glass surface could be found all the answers he wanted.