HARDWIRED - 7. Harpy
At the start of this, April had known the gist of what Dell most often reveals about his extended family to others: there was his grandfather, Radigan Conagher, whom he took after, and then there was the rest of them. As he makes his way through first one and then two beers, the whole of it starts to unreel. “They’re all insane, is what they are,” he tells her first, and in uncharacteristic fashion this launches him on a full-blown rant. It takes a lot to make Dell mince words, but the Ringbacker-Conaghers are more than a lot.
He’s tired and shell-shocked and angry, and all of this colors his outburst, until he realizes April is not following in the slightest. The intricate knots that make up his relations are too fine and varied to explain to someone outside of them—at least right now, in the state he’s in. She listens, though. She listens intent and studious at his side, never once giving him the sense that she’s bored or wishes he would stop. He should, though. He puts his second beer down and scrubs his fingers over his scalp, leaning on his knees. It’s getting late.
It’s his turn to startle when April slides her hand across his shoulders, lets it bunch its fingers in the back of his shirt. A grounding weight, one that at last makes him feel as if he is not in danger of flying off the planet. He doesn’t know how to say I’m glad you’re here again without sounding like a fool.
