Bas found her, like Hazel had a feeling he would. She doesn't look up. Green gaze trained over the sea as he settled in the sand beside her. Fuck, Hazel doesn't need to look up. Knowing the look on his face, knowing the way he carries himself, knowing what he has to say (at least in part) before he even opens his mouth. Knowing just as well as he did that they needed to talk about it. At least Hazel had the alcohol to dull the sting, right?
Bas talks. Hazel drinks. Drinks long from the jar, it's noticeably emptier than it was before when she returns it to the sand between them. She'd been reactive. That was true, and she could have at least waited until they weren't right in front of their kid. Her sigh was long. When she wasn't quick to speak, he continued on. Bas's apology comes too. It's the first time she turns her gaze, the first time she looks at him.
"I'm sorry I--"I'm sorry I forgot you're sheltered-- no. That wasn't productive. Hazel bites back the words, grateful that the booze has slowed her processing times. "I'm sorry I wasn't more sensitive to your feelings." Hazel's gaze flickered back out over the ocean. She reached for the jar, the familiar bite and burn. Anything to stop the world spinning around her.
As for his apology? Old wounds had shown up in new places, places she didn't expect. What Bas decided to do next would largely determine whether or not she accepted it. For now, Hazel is having a hard time looking at him again.
