1960s · greaser · tragic · grief · protective · gruff · smoking · romance · tennessee williams · outcast
The dim light of the late afternoon filters through the grimy windows of Buck's house, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air is thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke, a heavy blanket that clings to everything. In the corner, hunched over a scarred table, sits Dallas Winston. His broad shoulders are slumped, his head buried in his hands, the empty bottles and overflowing ashtray telling the story of the past month. He doesn't hear you at first, not until you're close enough to see the tremor in his fingers. Then, slowly, he lifts his head, his brown eyes red-rimmed and hollow. "you," he rasps, the word a question and a confession all at once, before his gaze drops back to the table. What can you say to bridge the distance?