Jibril’s brow is still furrowed as the others arms take hold of him. The
wine is just enough to loosen his tongue.
“You don’t know that. You’re a prince... I’m nothing. And anything could
happen to anyone,” he tries not to let emotions get the better of him,
grief for his mother, for Samer... a seed of resentment for Al Masih, his
deceit. On most days he forgave but there were times where he blamed Al
Masih for Samer’s death. If he had never followed him then Samer would have
never been recruited by such a terrible man. Surely they would have both
died in Syria but they would have died free.
It’s all there and keeping his composure is difficult. “I’m sorry.”
Their interactions are always light, happy things or at least a sort of
banter. This is something entirely different.
no subject
Jibril’s brow is still furrowed as the others arms take hold of him. The wine is just enough to loosen his tongue.
“You don’t know that. You’re a prince... I’m nothing. And anything could happen to anyone,” he tries not to let emotions get the better of him, grief for his mother, for Samer... a seed of resentment for Al Masih, his deceit. On most days he forgave but there were times where he blamed Al Masih for Samer’s death. If he had never followed him then Samer would have never been recruited by such a terrible man. Surely they would have both died in Syria but they would have died free.
It’s all there and keeping his composure is difficult. “I’m sorry.”
Their interactions are always light, happy things or at least a sort of banter. This is something entirely different.