Wheeling Gull Isle stood on my roof and tried to see you forgetting about me

damnit. he comes closer, and jaime finds himself flustered, grasping desperately for a stronger focus on what the man is saying. yeah, he answers, trying not to let his nervousness show. fishing is uh, the only thing i'm really good at — that and um, i can usually tell when the weather is about to change, but... no one really cares about that. oh god he's rambling isn't he — i uh, i'd like that, though — you showing me around, i mean. fuck. he forces himself to stop talking, thoroughly ashamed of himself now. i'm a mess, he tells himself, miserable.