Murdoc's mind doesn't wander to Charlotte as much as it did all those years ago. There was a time when she was every second thought. Every email he wanted to send, call he wanted to make and step outside the door he wanted to take had to lead to her in some way. He still doesn't quite realise how exhausting he probably was towards the end, just like he's blind to a great many of his flaws.
Even when she trifled with him, drew out the inevitable and ended it. He still thought of her. He still wormed his way in, pestered her new beau and waited for her to become bored once more. It hadn't been the first time she'd cut him off from her affections, but it was the first time she hadn't come back within months. Months became years and Murdoc's patience waned and his pride grew. He always knew he was meant for better things, a more suitable relationship and stable life. Days consumed by lust and envy and passion were incredibly unproductive and unsatisfying in the long term.
So he kept his distance, felt out his connections and found a suitable match of a similar social standing and economic background. She was pretty and driven, but stable. Her travels aren't to far off lands, but mostly England. Murdoc's career has settled in a way that he doesn't take off to Asia or America or deep into Europe on a moments notice anymore. Not that he could if he wanted to, anyway. Not with a wife who commutes overseas on the regular and two sons. Handsome, talented and incredibly thick headed sons, 7 and 3 years old. They fill a great many hours of his days, but he finds he quite enjoys the peace when his wife takes them along with her for her travels.
Since he's alone, he's indulging in liquor and a very, very dry book about some point in history. He isn't expecting a knock at all, and his very first thought is that it's a policeman here to tell him his family died in a tragic accident. He will have to assess why he feels relieved about that some other time, for now he's warily walking toward the front door so he can open it to reveal Charlotte.
For a moment, he almost doesn't recognise her. He studies her face for a long moment, frown set deep in the lines on his face before he impulsively moves to shut the door without a word.
no subject
Even when she trifled with him, drew out the inevitable and ended it. He still thought of her. He still wormed his way in, pestered her new beau and waited for her to become bored once more. It hadn't been the first time she'd cut him off from her affections, but it was the first time she hadn't come back within months. Months became years and Murdoc's patience waned and his pride grew. He always knew he was meant for better things, a more suitable relationship and stable life. Days consumed by lust and envy and passion were incredibly unproductive and unsatisfying in the long term.
So he kept his distance, felt out his connections and found a suitable match of a similar social standing and economic background. She was pretty and driven, but stable. Her travels aren't to far off lands, but mostly England. Murdoc's career has settled in a way that he doesn't take off to Asia or America or deep into Europe on a moments notice anymore. Not that he could if he wanted to, anyway. Not with a wife who commutes overseas on the regular and two sons. Handsome, talented and incredibly thick headed sons, 7 and 3 years old. They fill a great many hours of his days, but he finds he quite enjoys the peace when his wife takes them along with her for her travels.
Since he's alone, he's indulging in liquor and a very, very dry book about some point in history. He isn't expecting a knock at all, and his very first thought is that it's a policeman here to tell him his family died in a tragic accident. He will have to assess why he feels relieved about that some other time, for now he's warily walking toward the front door so he can open it to reveal Charlotte.
For a moment, he almost doesn't recognise her. He studies her face for a long moment, frown set deep in the lines on his face before he impulsively moves to shut the door without a word.