After After Hours Picture

"So....Simon. What's your family life like." Her words were a little slurred. Airy in tone. Playful.

"Leona-." His had dropped in comparison. He normally wasn't that light of a person, but his tone had gone down a bit. "Imma put things in perspective, for you, alright? I'm thousands of miles away from m'home. And I walked every damn one of 'em. Now I live in an inn in the middle a'nowhere wit-a old war vet, lil' demon, and you. Three folks I have no blood relation to 'cept bein' the same species as wunnadem." He blinked, sighing to himself. Earlier in the day these thought had pushed him to drinking a bit. See if he could make the politics just fly away today. Sadly the mead was doing the opposite.

Leona blinked, watching Simon's expression become sullen and bitter. "You want to talk about it?"

"Kinda. Wait. No. Yes. No. I mean-" He took another long sip. "-like. Three brothers. Three sisters. Love 'em. Each and erry one. And I know my parents have the parental respect and all that shit..." He blinked, staring into space. "...I 'unno. Bein' the oldest. I...I dunno."

"Don't suppose you have any problems with your parents?" She cocked her head lazily, letting it rest heavily upon her hand.

"No. No. No. I love my parents." He stopped. And then decided he was loose enough. "It's just I'm sure they fucked me up somehow. Itz're your parents' kid. Y'know."

Leona could only really nod, thinking about how this time bomb might go off in just a little bit.

"They give ya your values. But, y'know, they probably fuck you up in some way. My dad, man. Like... 'SAYEMON'!" His brownie accent intensified in the vein of his father. "'GO OWT AND PAWNCH A FAWKIN' LOG.' 'TRRRRAIN YER ARSE, BOY! Y'NEVAH KNOW WHAT COULD HAPPEN.'.....So I did. Punched a log. For hours. Never put much thought into it, y'know."

He let the silence settle. Leona gave a sympathetic look, but Simon was already too involved in letting out whatever he had kept to himself.

"He was never happy. Like, he never said' I figured I jus' wasn't doin' enuff. Erryting he fuckin' asked me to do I did. Ma would protest but I would do it. But, like, he ne'r reacted. It was jus' part a' the day."

"Were you lookin' for something?"

"Not...lookin'. I dunno. I think it was selfish t'think I should get sum'n for doin every day work. But, like, you do yer job right and he don't bat an eye. But, like, if I fucked up he let me know. An' I...I 'unno. I wish thing's coulda been different. But, y'know. Everything's so fucking inconsequential when yer four inches tall and miles from anywhere. Grudges just waste y'time." He downed his glass and let his arm hang at his side, lowering his head, finally leaning forward out of her bosom and hanging his head a bit.

"So that's my family life."

"Hey..." He felt a hand lazily grab him and pull him back into Leona's bosom. He looked back, eyes half closed, mood somewhere between "fuck it" and "yell at the first thing you see" and he found Leona, giving him a drunken smile. "Stop bein' a bummer, you little drunk." She giggled. "You're quite the little spitfire when you're drunk.

"Yeah? Well your...really...soft." Simon paused, looking at her smiling face. "Jus' gimmie s'more mead. Les' talk about somethin' happy."

Another drunk picture. With a little insight into how Simon ticks. Where he came from. What he's got on him. Sort of an average past but I figured I could get a little psychological with it. Admittedly this is sort of a genre of picture I hate. The "Big Emotional Motivations Clearly Explained With The Feels" sort of annoys me as a means to incur serious sympathy for a character simply by pitting the rest against them. So I tried to make it maybe a bit more natural. And a bit more personal for him. I 'unno. I want to put him against stuff but not fall victim to obnoxious methods of storytelling that, at times, I find objectionable. So here's this shit. Another drunk picture with some greyscale shading and little splashes of color.

It's alright. I drew it twice, and this is my second attempt. Looks okay. Not perfect. And the writing needs work.

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