Listen. [Ficlet]
A mortal and a god post-therapy. (set to 'Head Over Heels' by Tears for Fears)
Their session had ended some hours ago, but neither had the capacity nor care to keep track of how long. The two older men laid amongst the mess of records, relics of a troubled 80s childhood, sprawled across the therapist's living room with little care for their worth.
The apparently older man moved for the first time in minutes, passing a perfectly rolled joint (perfection a sure sign of Astor fronting) to their off-the-clock client. The deity's eyes never broke from the ceiling, a deep inhale and a pause that would have been worryingly drawn out if this were their first time- or if James had been present, but he worried about anything.
With a slow trail, the smoke danced to the euphony of a record struggling with the scratches of time; nothing in that house was free from the scars of its trauma.
But Therapy was the time to talk. Now was the time to listen.