[It's been said that there's a time and place for everything. Harry's fairly certain that Christmas Eve in the middle of Albert's house is not the proper setting for this, but there's some relief in unraveling. He's been poised on the edge for far too long, anyway — everyone gives in sooner or later, in one way or another, and a beckoning hand can only be ignored for so long before it's followed.
He twists in his chair, wrenching his arm from Coop's hand so he can instead bury his face against his friend's shoulder.
Grief is a selfish emotion. No matter what Harry may think — she was so young, it's not fair, she didn't deserve to die — in the end, he's not as sorry for Josie as he is for himself. And if he's surrendering control to greed in this way already, he might as well give in completely and take more than what's been offered while he can get away with it — one broken sob later, Coop may feel tears leaking through his shirt as Harry presses into the bony curve of his shoulder.]
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He twists in his chair, wrenching his arm from Coop's hand so he can instead bury his face against his friend's shoulder.
Grief is a selfish emotion. No matter what Harry may think — she was so young, it's not fair, she didn't deserve to die — in the end, he's not as sorry for Josie as he is for himself. And if he's surrendering control to greed in this way already, he might as well give in completely and take more than what's been offered while he can get away with it — one broken sob later, Coop may feel tears leaking through his shirt as Harry presses into the bony curve of his shoulder.]