[Something tugs at his heart and Flynn replays the message several times before he can bring himself to answer. There's not much kindness going around these days and he needs a moment to adjust and accept it for what it is. He sits, head in his hand, and waits for the storm of emotions to pass, until he can pull himself together again.]
Hey you. [There's a softness around his eyes not many people get to see anymore but he will always appreciate Ginger's warm presence.]
[Oh, Flynn. You're just so nice. Ginger can't help but want to talk to him when he tries so hard to put on a kind face. She nods along to his message.]
That's good, I'm glad--that you aren't doing any worse than that. I don't think there's a one of us that can't help but feel a bit down. But you look good. I hope this message isn't coming at a bad time...
[His lips twitch, amused, just a hint of a twinkle in his eyes.] No, you look good. I look old and withered and gnarly.
[She's right, though, it's been a while. He's become more and more of a hermit over the years, grouchy and withdrawn. He still tries to be good but it's paired with a disillusionment and jadedness that leaves him with a short fuse and impatience for other people's bullshit, prone to picking fights. Ginger takes him out of that mindset sometimes, if for a little while, and Flynn remembers better days and warmer nights, and company.]
It comes at the best time. [He's having such a bad day, really.]
[Still, her expression lightens a little at his words. It's nice to know that she still looks good when she doesn't feel like she does. The isolation has eaten away at her self-esteem, and what precious little of it that's left buzzes warmly.]
Then I'm glad...I'm glad I said hello.
[Another hesitation. It used to be so easy to make small talk with people. Why does it feel so much harder now, when she wants for company all that much more?]
I know it's harder to get out nowadays but...if you ever want to spend some time together, I'm still here.
Old, withered, gnarly character, huh? You say the sweetest things.
[Flynn isn't the awkward young man anymore that stumbles over his words or doesn't know where to put his hands or paints flowers on a rock to bring on a date because there's no actual flowers in Norfinbury.
... Well, fine. Maybe he'd still paint a rock.
There's a longer pause where he ducks his head, some of the old shyness breaking through. When he speaks again his grumpy voice has lost most of its rough edge.]
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@librarian; video
Hey you. [There's a softness around his eyes not many people get to see anymore but he will always appreciate Ginger's warm presence.]
I'm good. A little under the weather. You?
no subject
That's good, I'm glad--that you aren't doing any worse than that. I don't think there's a one of us that can't help but feel a bit down. But you look good. I hope this message isn't coming at a bad time...
[She pauses.]
I missed seeing you.
no subject
[She's right, though, it's been a while. He's become more and more of a hermit over the years, grouchy and withdrawn. He still tries to be good but it's paired with a disillusionment and jadedness that leaves him with a short fuse and impatience for other people's bullshit, prone to picking fights. Ginger takes him out of that mindset sometimes, if for a little while, and Flynn remembers better days and warmer nights, and company.]
It comes at the best time. [He's having such a bad day, really.]
Missed you, too.
no subject
[Still, her expression lightens a little at his words. It's nice to know that she still looks good when she doesn't feel like she does. The isolation has eaten away at her self-esteem, and what precious little of it that's left buzzes warmly.]
Then I'm glad...I'm glad I said hello.
[Another hesitation. It used to be so easy to make small talk with people. Why does it feel so much harder now, when she wants for company all that much more?]
I know it's harder to get out nowadays but...if you ever want to spend some time together, I'm still here.
no subject
[Flynn isn't the awkward young man anymore that stumbles over his words or doesn't know where to put his hands or paints flowers on a rock to bring on a date because there's no actual flowers in Norfinbury.
... Well, fine. Maybe he'd still paint a rock.
There's a longer pause where he ducks his head, some of the old shyness breaking through. When he speaks again his grumpy voice has lost most of its rough edge.]
I would... I'd like that.
no subject
Me too.
[But she basically already said that, didn't she?]
There's nothing better on a hard, cold night than some good company. I hope I can still provide that much.
no subject
[He runs his hand over his face, trying to hide the beginnings of a smile that threaten to break through.]
Now that I am sure of.