As she spoke, he leaned his head a bit to one shoulder, lending an ear. Now it carried over to the other, fixing her sidelong down the planes of his face. If he looked at her from angles, if he didn't do anything head-no, maybe they could tread water over those depths.

"Well, we at least chose to be out here. Fuck if I remember why." Limited choice was something he was used to--it was the way nothing he did seemed to matter that got him feeling closed in. Like he could lash out, could have an entire grown-man tantrum, and that wouldn't matter either. At most, he'd inconvenience someone else. He hadn't survived as much as he had to settle for being an inconvenience.

"Oh, right, we were drunk." Elbow winging out from the axis of his pocketed hand, he nudged her side, trying to smooth it all with a smile. If he didn't feel it, what did it really matter?