[ It takes Roy a second to realize his knuckles have turned white from the way he's clutching the back of the seat. Quickly, he lets go, mumbling an apologetic, ] No, it's— I'm fine, thank you, [ as he takes the proffered seat.
There's a pallor to his face that suggests that the wind's been knocked out of him one way or another — nothing too serious, but something a little worse than a rush of blood to the head. ]
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I just get these headaches, sometimes.
[ she smiles that pretty pink smile, gaze still glittering. a thoughtful pull at the hem of her skirt, legs hooked at her ankles. she tilts her head lightly, blonde brushing between collar bones. ]
I just wish I could do something more to help, is all.
[ Another pause, this time as he fidgets a little with his hands (cleans off the lenses of his glasses) though his gaze finally fixes, still, on her features.
(Pretty as a picture.) ]
Is this something you do a lot?
[ He speaks slowly enough — careful with his words rather than affectless — that it doesn't sound like a come-on. ]
[ there's a twitch in her pinkie finger when she watches him fidget. never a need for glasses, she finds herself interested in the process he takes in order to clean them. when he's finished, he's looking to her. ( ladies always smile. and so she does. ) ]
Is that what you think you are? A stray?
[ a laugh, like something musical. she extends a hand, manicured nails and nimble fingers reaching out, welcoming. ( let them see what full lips you have. ) ]
[ He takes her hand in his, his grasp measured despite the bulk of his frame. (There's a tenderness underneath the broad shoulders and furrowed brow that's not very well hidden away, that could easily be twisted open. He turns to her the way flowers do towards the sun.
In another life, it drives him mad — it kills him.) ]
[ ( — again. sometimes she knows. in others, she doesn't. but there's always that pull. that need to remain in his orbit, teetering on the edge of his peripherals until it's all he sees, all he knows. ) a slow shake, the greeting gentle. ]
I suppose this means we'll just have to be alone — together.
[ her giggle is small in size, girlishly coy. when their contact is broken, she still feels the weight of his hand. the void of the pressure is filled with the books nestled in her lap. she curls her fingers around them as her cheeks turn to a soft pink in appearance. ]
[ (The story swings and shifts. In another, not too different from this one, there is another beast, and it's not so much that one kills the other as it is a conflagration — animal bridegroom, goes the trope. In yet another, there is a woodsman.
In this one, there is Roy. The red he wears comes into play a little later, but — the pieces are there. Just a little turned around.)
He smiles, brushes a hand over his forehead as the pang in his skull dies down. With a nod at the books she's carrying: ]
[ nothing so interesting, sally picks up her hands to reveal the few titles beneath her wrists. college textbooks, along with a worn copy of something that reads like we have always lived in the castle stamped by the college library. ]
A few things for school.
[ she doesn't blink when she looks to him, but her smile returns, ( a wolf in ) sheep( 's clothing )ish, self-deprecating in the way it twists. ]
Not terribly exciting. But I've never been very bookish, myself.
[ He nods, slightly, at the novel amongst the textbooks, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose once again.
(Somewhere between here and there, he forgoes the glasses. The sheep in wolf's clothing, perhaps, though he's never been quit so free from violence in his blood.) ]
It's— kind of dark, but some of the best things are.
[ they waltz beneath thick lashes. she finds him curious ( down the rabbit hole! ), finds him fascinating. something there, something restrained. ( are you like me? ) sally blinks, a soft noise in her throat as she looks to her lap again. as though the glasses can see her, see right through her. ]
I think so, too.
[ thumb grazes the peeling dust cover as though working down the side of something sharp. ]
Seems like we're all a little darker than we let the world see, at the end of the day.
[ her nose wrinkles. her grandmother's voice in her head. ]
But we're told not to show it. [ ( you know what you are. ) her voice drops into a gentle whisper, intimate, for his ears only. ] Otherwise, society says we might scare one another away.
[ (You know what you are. Delicate fingers digging into his shoulder as he loads the gun, the weight of it easy in his hands. He's a blunt instrument — she just has to point him in whichever direction she pleases.
For you. I'd die for you. I'd kill for you. The words repeat in each life.) ]
I'm sure it's not so bad as all that.
[ He doesn't sound so certain about it, though he smiles when he looks at her. ]
[ it's quicker than she anticipates. there's a flicker of it in her eyes, like impulse, like — i know you, don't i? ]
You know, it's strange —
[ thoughtful. the expression fills her features. the idea surprising even her. ( will you keep me safe? ) there's people here and there, in passing and in sync, but all she sees is — ]
I feel as though we've done this before. [ a beat. ] That's odd, isn't it?
[ (I walked with you once upon a dream, maybe, if a particularly bloody one.) ]
I— I guess.
[ A beat. She's put a name to a feeling that's been itching under his skin since he first really looked at her, and he's not certain of how to process it. (He's not certain how to take that feeling of isolation, either — that sense that it's just the two of them, suddenly, in this moment, despite all the people around them.
His answer, for her, is of course always yes. A beast is a beast, sometimes more so for twisting itself into another shape for the sake of love — or something like it.) ]
[ The words leave his mouth before he really has any chance to think about them, almost breathless. (It's almost too easy, but that's the way things are, when they happen over and over again.) ]
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no subject
[ pink nails pull a few books from the nearest seat. ponytail bobs this way, that way. ]
Can I get you something? Water?
no subject
There's a pallor to his face that suggests that the wind's been knocked out of him one way or another — nothing too serious, but something a little worse than a rush of blood to the head. ]
I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I just get these headaches, sometimes.
no subject
If you're sure. It's no problem —
[ sally frowns, sugar-pink pulling into a downward assembly of concern. her brow knits. ]
Oh, oh no, that's terrible. Are they serious?
no subject
[ The crease in his brow shifts as he attempts a smile, though the expression is quickly obscured as he raises a hand to remove his glasses. ]
—inconvenient, I guess. Means I end up bothering — uh — nice people like you.
no subject
[ she smiles that pretty pink smile, gaze still glittering. a thoughtful pull at the hem of her skirt, legs hooked at her ankles. she tilts her head lightly, blonde brushing between collar bones. ]
I just wish I could do something more to help, is all.
no subject
(Pretty as a picture.) ]
Is this something you do a lot?
[ He speaks slowly enough — careful with his words rather than affectless — that it doesn't sound like a come-on. ]
Help out strays, be the good Samaritan?
no subject
[ there's a twitch in her pinkie finger when she watches him fidget. never a need for glasses, she finds herself interested in the process he takes in order to clean them. when he's finished, he's looking to her. ( ladies always smile. and so she does. ) ]
Is that what you think you are? A stray?
[ a laugh, like something musical. she extends a hand, manicured nails and nimble fingers reaching out, welcoming. ( let them see what full lips you have. ) ]
I'm Sally.
no subject
[ He takes her hand in his, his grasp measured despite the bulk of his frame. (There's a tenderness underneath the broad shoulders and furrowed brow that's not very well hidden away, that could easily be twisted open. He turns to her the way flowers do towards the sun.
In another life, it drives him mad — it kills him.) ]
I'm Roy. It's nice to meet you.
no subject
[ ( — again. sometimes she knows. in others, she doesn't. but there's always that pull. that need to remain in his orbit, teetering on the edge of his peripherals until it's all he sees, all he knows. ) a slow shake, the greeting gentle. ]
I suppose this means we'll just have to be alone — together.
[ her giggle is small in size, girlishly coy. when their contact is broken, she still feels the weight of his hand. the void of the pressure is filled with the books nestled in her lap. she curls her fingers around them as her cheeks turn to a soft pink in appearance. ]
no subject
In this one, there is Roy. The red he wears comes into play a little later, but — the pieces are there. Just a little turned around.)
He smiles, brushes a hand over his forehead as the pang in his skull dies down. With a nod at the books she's carrying: ]
—What're you reading?
no subject
[ nothing so interesting, sally picks up her hands to reveal the few titles beneath her wrists. college textbooks, along with a worn copy of something that reads like we have always lived in the castle stamped by the college library. ]
A few things for school.
[ she doesn't blink when she looks to him, but her smile returns, ( a wolf in ) sheep( 's clothing )ish, self-deprecating in the way it twists. ]
Not terribly exciting. But I've never been very bookish, myself.
no subject
[ He nods, slightly, at the novel amongst the textbooks, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose once again.
(Somewhere between here and there, he forgoes the glasses. The sheep in wolf's clothing, perhaps, though he's never been quit so free from violence in his blood.) ]
It's— kind of dark, but some of the best things are.
no subject
I think so, too.
[ thumb grazes the peeling dust cover as though working down the side of something sharp. ]
Seems like we're all a little darker than we let the world see, at the end of the day.
[ her nose wrinkles. her grandmother's voice in her head. ]
But we're told not to show it. [ ( you know what you are. ) her voice drops into a gentle whisper, intimate, for his ears only. ] Otherwise, society says we might scare one another away.
no subject
For you. I'd die for you. I'd kill for you. The words repeat in each life.) ]
I'm sure it's not so bad as all that.
[ He doesn't sound so certain about it, though he smiles when he looks at her. ]
You think I'll run off?
no subject
[ it's quicker than she anticipates. there's a flicker of it in her eyes, like impulse, like — i know you, don't i? ]
You know, it's strange —
[ thoughtful. the expression fills her features. the idea surprising even her. ( will you keep me safe? ) there's people here and there, in passing and in sync, but all she sees is — ]
I feel as though we've done this before. [ a beat. ] That's odd, isn't it?
no subject
I— I guess.
[ A beat. She's put a name to a feeling that's been itching under his skin since he first really looked at her, and he's not certain of how to process it. (He's not certain how to take that feeling of isolation, either — that sense that it's just the two of them, suddenly, in this moment, despite all the people around them.
His answer, for her, is of course always yes. A beast is a beast, sometimes more so for twisting itself into another shape for the sake of love — or something like it.) ]
I mean, I know that feeling. Kind of— déjà vu.
no subject
I'm sorry, I —
[ as though stirring from a dream, cutting free of the ties that bind. her ponytail is a pendulum when she shakes her head lightly. ]
My grandmother says I have a problem with speaking my mind.
[ but he makes it easy, doesn't he? he makes her want to. ]
no subject
It's no problem to me.
[ The words leave his mouth before he really has any chance to think about them, almost breathless. (It's almost too easy, but that's the way things are, when they happen over and over again.) ]
Better— better out and in, right?
no subject
[ it's almost like an instinct, as though the pieces of the puzzle fit without thought. ]
You know, you're very easy to talk to, Roy. It's nice.