[for Zelda and Eugene]
On Thursday morning, he'd wandered upstairs to wash her off his skin and get a cup of coffee for the walk home, lingered overlong under the spray of water and got caught loitering in the kitchen waiting for the pot to finish. If she'd seemed more torn up over it, he might've dug in, laughed and walked away--but her calm gaze unbalanced him, pulled out things he didn't like to say: where he's staying and an invitation to turn up at her highness' leisure, like he'd been doing her a fucking favor spending the night.
He didn't think she'd take him up on it, much less show up two days later with an overcast sky and strengthening rain already clawing at his nerves. Even out on the porch it takes awhile to make out who it is crossing between the buildings, and a frown tugs at his mouth: he doesn't know what the fuck he wants from her, if he wants anything at all or if it's just been too long and too small an island to cut the first girl that'd have him right back out of his life, but he knows what he doesn't want is some nice stranger hanging around if this turns into another month of fucking rain.
"None of your private tutors teach you to stay the fuck home when it's raining," he harps, pulling the door open and motioning her in ahead of him anyway.
He didn't think she'd take him up on it, much less show up two days later with an overcast sky and strengthening rain already clawing at his nerves. Even out on the porch it takes awhile to make out who it is crossing between the buildings, and a frown tugs at his mouth: he doesn't know what the fuck he wants from her, if he wants anything at all or if it's just been too long and too small an island to cut the first girl that'd have him right back out of his life, but he knows what he doesn't want is some nice stranger hanging around if this turns into another month of fucking rain.
"None of your private tutors teach you to stay the fuck home when it's raining," he harps, pulling the door open and motioning her in ahead of him anyway.