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"Yes." he said. "I was."

He saw no reason to object to joining them on the bed and sat down where America had patted the bed.

"It was exactly as one might surmise a marriage should be. She was attentive and obedient, eager to please. Perhaps a little crass, a little stupid, a little sloppy. She was a terrible cook, wore either too much make up or not enough." She had never been Maja, simply a poor echo. "The breakup was inevitable, she was looking elsewhere." She had been reading things that would misinform her. "It was only appropriate to leave the child with her mother. Can I claim to be noble for that? Can I say I felt I did the right thing? I did not want to raise another child."

Without saying anything, America moved the lamp to her other side, scooching closer to Horace to make space for it. "Well, I guess she was spared from you for a little while at least," she commented offhand before asking another question. "And what about Mik's momma? Was she the same, you have some sorta type?"

This was the worst storytime ever. Horace wondered why Jan was being so forth-coming; the normally private man got mad at his own niece for spilling out small secrets. It was damn strange how easily he humored America. He rolled his eyes when she moved the lamp. If she was worried about Horace cooties, maybe she should not have scooted so close to him. Lawrence likes me in his space, And, once again, the sentence was neither corrected nor even commented on by Jan. Horace could tell he was going to have a headache later.

He sighed. "Is this information somehow helping you to catalog your feelings for Taym or lack thereof?" If this had been his room, America would have been kicked out long, long ago.

Lawrence seemed quite at ease with their little group and leaned back a little to lean on his good hand, Butch cheerfully rambling in his head. "Is there traditionally some kind of waiting period? The only limiter I could even begin to envision in respect to moving on after a broken relationship is one's refractory period." He did not see the point in hanging around. "As for how long effectively it takes, not particularly long. Sometimes a week or two."

Horace got a glance as if remembering that this might injure feelings. "And I ain't going anywhere pardner, just answerin' the lady."

Considering it all for a few drawn out minutes, America abruptly caught at Horace's cheek, delivering a hard peck of a kiss. It left a bright red smear and her laughing to herself as gathered the lamp up and got off the bed. "You've got a real forgiving boy here, you know? You made a good choice in him."

Lawrence didn't get any gesture of affection, faux or otherwise, but at the door she turned added with a wink, "You ever wanna test just how much he'll forgive, you know where an live Mister Cowboy."

She left her shoes behind.

Groaning, he rolled over. "That was... entirely unpleasant." Horace heaved himself off of the bed and scrubbed at his face. It certainly brought up more questions than it answered. "She's... odd, right now. And you were surprisingly open." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Horace leaned down and planted a kiss on Jan. In the same movement, he scooped up her shoes. It would give him an excuse to talk to her without having to filter himself.

"I'll be back soon, okay? Just going to drop something off."

One eyebrow rose. "I'm not going to leave her shoes here unless there's a damn good reason." He leaned against the door, heels dangling from his hand.