The Luck doesn't make sense to Sam until Sweeney says magic, and then his expression clears. Magic accounts for all manner of oddness and strange goings on, plainly.
"I've seen madness," he says, after a moment to get past 'Dead Wife.' "The sort as makes a fellow a stranger to himself, or if not a stranger, certainly no friend. Like that?"
"Not a stranger." Sweeney's lips press. It's not a favorite topic. He swallows and licks his lips to part them.
"I weren't always a Leprechaun." A slow sigh escapes through his nose. "Been lots'a things, lots'a lives. They...stack. Bleed. I...get lost in myself. Memories." Sins. He hopes that makes some level of sense to the stranger.
Sweeney tips his head, as if weighing the suggestion.
"I got someone that helps me. Can't stop me from gettin' lost, but helps me get back ta the present as quick as I'm able." He's grateful for her every day. Sweeney can't imagine how he'd manage without her.
He swallows, a clear hesitancy catching him in the question. After a breath too long, he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off casually.
"Nah. She f'gures it out. 'pparently, I ain't a hard read." Even at a distance. She's private, and he doesn't want to complicate anything by burdening her with the worries of others. She'll find him, he's certain.
"Normally, I just hole up in my cabin an' let shit blows o'ver."
Sweeney accepts the offer without protest, though he doesn't know if he'd take Sam up on it. There's a level of intimacy there that he just hasn't found with many people. Realistically, only Tiffany and Swamp Rat. They let him be naked enough to be fucked up.
"'ppreciate it." His gaze wanders over the space. "Sure is hell'uva lot nicer than my fuckin' motel room."
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"I've seen madness," he says, after a moment to get past 'Dead Wife.' "The sort as makes a fellow a stranger to himself, or if not a stranger, certainly no friend. Like that?"
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"I weren't always a Leprechaun." A slow sigh escapes through his nose. "Been lots'a things, lots'a lives. They...stack. Bleed. I...get lost in myself. Memories." Sins. He hopes that makes some level of sense to the stranger.
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Briefly, he pats the pocket of his vest, but he's left his pipe inside. Ah well. He just wanted it for something to do with his hands.
"Is it the getting lost as is the curse? Or all the folk you've been?"
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"The other folk are part of the package." Which now that he thinks about it, certainly don't help. Maybe it is the curse. Or at least some of it.
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"I don't see as how it'd be expensive to ask other folk to help you not get lost, so I'm guessing it needs more'n talk and company."
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"I got someone that helps me. Can't stop me from gettin' lost, but helps me get back ta the present as quick as I'm able." He's grateful for her every day. Sweeney can't imagine how he'd manage without her.
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"That's as good. Should I know who it is, so's I can get her if you need?"
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"Nah. She f'gures it out. 'pparently, I ain't a hard read." Even at a distance. She's private, and he doesn't want to complicate anything by burdening her with the worries of others. She'll find him, he's certain.
"Normally, I just hole up in my cabin an' let shit blows o'ver."
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"You can come by here, too, if you need." Because he saw the way he looked at the garden.
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"'ppreciate it." His gaze wanders over the space. "Sure is hell'uva lot nicer than my fuckin' motel room."