[closed]

[deletar]

WHO: Tickles Mitch and Hot Cross Buns.
WHAT: Wounds need tending.
WHERE: Cross's place.
WHEN: After the return, in piss-poor shape, of Cross's team.

Comments

[deletar]

"I admit that I do not know much about him, but from what I can tell he is not exactly..." My style, he thought, but Cross would not appreciate that choice of phrasing, or even the insinuation that they had the same taste as concerned anything.

"Here," he said, brushing back Cross's hair. "I have a surprise for you."

He held up his hand, the one that did not currently rest at Cross's side. He spread his fingers wide, in a gesture--look, nothing, nothing up my sleeve; and then, with a snap, a cigarette appeared between his two fingers.

One of his. One of his few remaining ones. The good ones, from the old country.

He snapped his fingers again and it was gone; it appeared in his other hand, in Cross's; he snapped his finger again and then he produced it just in front of Cross's face, placing it between his lips. The next time he snapped his fingers he had struck a match, and then he lit the cigarette in one fluid movement, shaking the match out.

"Only one hand," he added, lips twitching.

[crucifying]

Cross tilted his head up at the mention of a surprise, looking completely unamused after he heard it because--honestly, when was the last time any Noah had a good surprise for him?

Ah, but there it was. When he saw the cigarette, his eyes widened a bit, and then he furrowed his brows. Jerking his head back again, just a little, it still managed to be pushed between his lips, lit. He looked downward, almost humorously cross-eyed for a moment...

And then he half-grinned, slowly. Taking a deep, deep drag, he shut his eyes for a second, and then reached up his good hand, pulling it from his mouth and breathing out to the side heavily, smoke curling into the air.

"Didn't expect that one."

[deletar]

If Tyki Mikk had been a traveling clown, per se, then this might have been the sort of trick he learned from a mentor--someone skilled enough in parlor tricks to teach him all the secrets behind sleight of hand. But of course he was not a traveling clown. He was a Noah

[crucifying]

Cross was about to ignore any further commentary on the trick--just wanted to enjoy his cigarette, really--but it was in that instant, after if you expected it, he felt a chilling shudder. Cold, but familiar. It jogged memories. Not as badly as before, but on top of what he did remember of what happened in the hole (he shrugged it off as a strange dream now, actually, perhaps because he just refused to make the connection with Tyki while he was coherent), it finally came together

[deletar]

It was so impossible to carry on a conversation with him. One had to wonder where Cross's mind wandered, if it was anywhere particularly important or if it was simply the expected--that Cross Marian wasn't paying attention, because Cross Marian had no reason to