"Oh yeah, right." Shawn laughs, he can't help it, it feels unnatural but doesn't stop. "What were you supposed to do anyway, keep pretending that you're a model when you're not? Until when? A few hours after the incident? Until she ran her finely manicured finger a little more over your probably also oiled chest? Which is disgusting, by the way so forget I just said that?"
The bag drops to the floor because Shawn's too agitated to hold it now, his arms flying around in wild gestures. "In case you have forgotten, Gus, I brought you in there! I set up our model cover, I let you have your shiny time, I didn't interefere as long as we were on the case! I let you have your creepy, shallow model way with the creepy, shallow models, I did nothing more than complain when all it would have taken me was one word, one. Single. Word to end your I'm-a-good-looking-bastard cloud nine!"
He should really stop talking. Every word is making him angrier, with everything he says it seems like he's being shoved even further into some weird isolation pod he can't get out. He can't start rambling about what all of that did to him, he can't, he will just cut the conversation, right here. Period.
"You know what? Forget it. I don't care, Gus!" Shawn spreads his arms, desperate almost, his face a mask of irritation and hurt and anger and weird cramps while searching for words that usually paint ridiculous pictures he can hide behind. "I, I mean, do you see this? Do you see this?" He pats his chest, agitated, pacing before spreading his arms again and spinning on the spot. "This is me, me not caring! I just don't care!"
And with that he grabs his bag again, determined to leave, the way he left his dad, because running away to someplace safe seems to be the only way to stay sane right now.
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The bag drops to the floor because Shawn's too agitated to hold it now, his arms flying around in wild gestures. "In case you have forgotten, Gus, I brought you in there! I set up our model cover, I let you have your shiny time, I didn't interefere as long as we were on the case! I let you have your creepy, shallow model way with the creepy, shallow models, I did nothing more than complain when all it would have taken me was one word, one. Single. Word to end your I'm-a-good-looking-bastard cloud nine!"
He should really stop talking. Every word is making him angrier, with everything he says it seems like he's being shoved even further into some weird isolation pod he can't get out. He can't start rambling about what all of that did to him, he can't, he will just cut the conversation, right here. Period.
"You know what? Forget it. I don't care, Gus!" Shawn spreads his arms, desperate almost, his face a mask of irritation and hurt and anger and weird cramps while searching for words that usually paint ridiculous pictures he can hide behind. "I, I mean, do you see this? Do you see this?" He pats his chest, agitated, pacing before spreading his arms again and spinning on the spot. "This is me, me not caring! I just don't care!"
And with that he grabs his bag again, determined to leave, the way he left his dad, because running away to someplace safe seems to be the only way to stay sane right now.