This is my sundown

[jack_f_twist]

It was black for a long time.

And it's still dark, and the air should be warm, smelling like canvas and sweat and horse and old leather, but instead he's cold, and huddles down, curling into himself to get warm again. Instead of wiry grass against his skin, there's only a firm softness, and he stretches one arm out to pull Lureen

(Ennis)closer

Comments

[true_desire]

"If you want," comes a familiar voice: There's a click, a catch of flint, and the unmistakable scent of tobacco and paper burning. Not the roll-your-own or Marlboro variety, but the exotic, spicy version that somehow accentuates the scent of peaches.

"I've never been one to turn down a pretty face. -- They did a number on yours, didn't they?"

Desire's golden eyes swim into view, mouth shut against a cigarette as he draws the smoke in.

[jack_f_twist]

Shit.

"Shit!"

He pushes himself to the edge of the bed, staring into the dim room. The glowing cigarette tip makes him squint, but he doesn't rise to the jibe in Desire's voice.

Anger almost drowns out the panic in his voice.

"Fuck're you doing here?"

[true_desire]

"Tch." The scoff is gentle, almost friendly, and there's a sly, wide grin on Desire's face: He offers Jack one of those wicked winks of his before ashing the cigarette and continuing. "Fuck, Twist, you know me. I show in the unlikeliest places."

"Still, if you don't want a friendly face..."

[jack_f_twist]

Unbelieving, and not listening, Jack feels his nose, his cheeks, his jaw. He winces as he presses at a tender spot just along the bridge of his nose, but it's no more than a bruise, easily healed in a few days, not--

He looks back up at Desire, uncomprehending.

"The fuck am I?" and it could be where, could be who, could be a fair many things, but Jack Twist, not yet twenty years old, is for once at a loss for words.