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He’s not big on regrets. Waste of time, really, wishing something was different in a past that’s already rolled on and rolled over.
Lindsey’s bigger on being in the moment and sometimes, quite rarely but sometimes, he is all about the future. He was damn fine as a lawyer because he could charm a jury, sure. But he could plan the responses he might have to give and that served him well whenever someone showed up to brood around and throw a fucking monkey wrench into his well laid schemes.
He wishes, when he’s had a little too much time one-on-one with Jack or Jim, that he’d just reacted on impulse. To hell with the Senior Partners, to hell with their contracts, and to hell with their less-than-subtle threats. Looking back, on this side of the torture they put him through, Lindsey thinks it would have been worth it to do at least one or two of those things that he refrained from when Angel was part of the problem.
One good stake, right to the chest; that might have been worth whatever smiting the Senior Partners would have invoked. But more often than not, the thing he regrets not doing is just showing up at Angel’s door, pushing his way inside and getting himself truly, thoroughly and righteously fucked.
He grins over his glass at the thought now, wondering if he’d have had to explain to Angel just what the hell he was there for, or if the smell of it would have been enough of a giveaway. Angel did like to point out that stink of fear Lindsey gave off. He just seemed to be a little reluctant to mention the desire that went hand in hand with it every damn time.
He chuckles before he downs the last of his shot and drops some cash on the bar. Shrugs into his coat and pushes his hair back before he settles his hat on his head. Walks out the door into the cold of November in the mountains, shaking his head at himself.
He’s hard, and he’s horny and he’s going to get himself home before he does something even dumber than letting himself remember.
-end