“Handsome?” He cocks a dark eyebrow and his mouth cracks into a crooked grin.
“Didn’t take me for the army type, did you?” He chuckles now, wondering how the younger man missed the cues. Sebastian takes the circular disc hanging from his neck and lays it on the bar.
The metal is still warm.
Sebastian catches Quinn’s gaze falling over his broad frame. He knew what the younger man wanted. He had always been able to read people, but further training in the military and watching card games in pubs and bars allowed him to finely-tune his knack down to an art form.
Innocence broods under green eyes made darker by the poor lighting of the establishment. Moran licks his lips.
What brought him to the States?
To Sebastian, Richard was London. He was so deeply woven into the fabric of the city that once he disappeared, even those who never knew of him felt his absence. Sebastian tried staying.
But the longer he stayed, the longer he felt everything collapsing in upon itself.He tried travelling England for a while, even though he ruled out returning to the north a long time ago.
Didn’t leave much for him.
And Ireland? Ireland was always right out of the question.
And so he left.
He went halfway around the world, away from sing-song lilts and brogues, away from tartan and sheepish smirks and dark eyes.
And the nights and weekends he spent drinking whiskey in Dublin. Dublin, that smelt like wet leather and rain and yeast.
Sebastian isn’t sure he’ll ever really be able to travel far enough.
“Change of scenery,” he offers with a nod of his head, taking a mouthful of his pint and setting it down on the bar again. “Needed something new, got a bit restless, thought I’d make my way here. Need some distractions, like.”