#in the third scene hob is drunk and desperate and fed up and referencing lines that dream wrote about His Man

[landwriter]

Please, please tell me something about Untitled 1!

(By which I mean, of course, please share something you’re excited about)

excited about this Hob realization in 70s SF AU:

Hob grows quiet and starts unpicking a seam on his jacket, so he fishes out his cigarettes and offers the box. Hob takes one gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

---

“Anyways. Probably for the better. Doubt he wanted a queer or a poet for a son. Only other way I’ve really taken after him is smoking. Started two years after he died, same brand I remembered seeing in his truck. Lucky Strikes, like you. It’s where he had to smoke. Mom wouldn’t let him do it inside. Calls it a nasty habit.” Hob snorts. “’Least she used better words when she found out I was gay. I think she secretly hopes I’ll quit both. Send her a postcard one of these days: ‘Hi ma, San Francisco is great. I’m all finished with smoking and men. Still a poet, sad to say, but I don’t associate with the hippies here. Doesn’t the Golden Gate Bridge look lovely in this photo? Send my love to everyone.’”

Dream laughs. Hob beams, nudges his shoulder into him. “So. What about yours?”

---

“Why not?” He fumbles out a cigarette, lights it. He’ll play Dream’s mystery man for him. “C’mon, huh?” He takes a shaky drag. “Why not? Why don’t you take something from me, then, and we’ll call it even?”

Dream stares unblinking at him for a moment and then sets his beer down on the table with a sudden clatter. Shit, maybe he’ll deck me, he thinks, if I’m lucky.

Instead, Dream reaches out and pulls the cigarette from his lips and puts it between his own. Hob sways forward after it. Dream takes a long drag and tilts his head back to blow the smoke past Hob. His throat is pale. Like the fucking moon. His eyes haven’t left Hob’s. Sharp wet seaglass. Fuck, fuck, fuck, thinks Hob. Dream stubs out the cigarette and leans forward. He never smokes. He always has cigarettes, and he never smokes. His voice is rough from it. “Like that?”