[Ray hadn't had a great day. Or a great week, if he's honest. Every hour had been filled with Stella, whether it was seeing her or thinking about her, his mind on overdrive with the whys and what ifs that he'd barely considered with such determination since their divorce. Neither him nor Stella had been able to find a stable relationship since they'd parted ways. They'd both had a few failed attempts that had never quite succeeded, and while this had been one of the first proper relationships Stella had gone for since Ray, it still hadn't ended any better than the others.
Sure, Ray had been all too happy to prove that this guy was a lying scumbag unworthy of Stella's attentions. Ray would happily keep doing that each time a new guy came into her life. But what difference would it make? It hadn't made her happy, and as a result it hadn't really made him all that happy either. It wasn't enough to get them both back together to live happily ever. Perhaps nothing would ever make that happen and they were both (Ray, more specifically) starting to realise that. The dancing was good though, as was the likelihood of a night of passion, but all that had been interrupted before it even got a chance to start.
He'd have loved to blame Fraser for it all, because it's easier to blame someone you know, but that psychotic fucking asshole had been the real issue. Maybe it was just the universes way of keeping Stella and Ray apart. Like a divine intervention to stop them hooking up for just one night of great sex. And what better way to do it than throwing a bomb into the mix and a psychotic, abusive asshole with a gun?
So of course Ray wanted to be alone. Of course he wanted time to wallow and pitifully weep and drink his sorrows away. And maybe he'd been a little over the limit on his final drive home but he'd made it back in one piece, dragging his feet all the way back to his apartment and fiddling just a little too long with the lock. With the door shut behind him, he even took a moment to lean against the doorway in the dark, sighing lightly and rubbing his palms heavily into the sockets of his eyes.
Even with the light finally flicked on, he doesn't pay much attention to his surroundings during the first few instinctual seconds of tossing his keys aside and drawing closer into his home. He barely even registers the figure, his brain more focused on weighing up the options between beer and coffee, but then there's something clicking into place, right at the forefront of his thoughts that gets him jerking towards the other in a startled sort of double take. One hand jerks towards the holster hidden under his jacket, but just as quickly as the panic starts, it subsides, quickly recognise the uninvited guest.]
Jeez, Frase, I coulda shot ya.
[He sounds tired, worn out and just a little agitated. Not entirely welcoming. Especially when he starts considering why the fuck Fraser's taken to sitting in the dark in his home.]
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Sure, Ray had been all too happy to prove that this guy was a lying scumbag unworthy of Stella's attentions. Ray would happily keep doing that each time a new guy came into her life. But what difference would it make? It hadn't made her happy, and as a result it hadn't really made him all that happy either. It wasn't enough to get them both back together to live happily ever. Perhaps nothing would ever make that happen and they were both (Ray, more specifically) starting to realise that. The dancing was good though, as was the likelihood of a night of passion, but all that had been interrupted before it even got a chance to start.
He'd have loved to blame Fraser for it all, because it's easier to blame someone you know, but that psychotic fucking asshole had been the real issue. Maybe it was just the universes way of keeping Stella and Ray apart. Like a divine intervention to stop them hooking up for just one night of great sex. And what better way to do it than throwing a bomb into the mix and a psychotic, abusive asshole with a gun?
So of course Ray wanted to be alone. Of course he wanted time to wallow and pitifully weep and drink his sorrows away. And maybe he'd been a little over the limit on his final drive home but he'd made it back in one piece, dragging his feet all the way back to his apartment and fiddling just a little too long with the lock. With the door shut behind him, he even took a moment to lean against the doorway in the dark, sighing lightly and rubbing his palms heavily into the sockets of his eyes.
Even with the light finally flicked on, he doesn't pay much attention to his surroundings during the first few instinctual seconds of tossing his keys aside and drawing closer into his home. He barely even registers the figure, his brain more focused on weighing up the options between beer and coffee, but then there's something clicking into place, right at the forefront of his thoughts that gets him jerking towards the other in a startled sort of double take. One hand jerks towards the holster hidden under his jacket, but just as quickly as the panic starts, it subsides, quickly recognise the uninvited guest.]
Jeez, Frase, I coulda shot ya.
[He sounds tired, worn out and just a little agitated. Not entirely welcoming. Especially when he starts considering why the fuck Fraser's taken to sitting in the dark in his home.]