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[ooc: Sorry guys, been unannounced-hiatused for the past whiles, but lo, appartment move was successful! And Grace here is getting un-droned and introduced properly to her new husbando, Mister Marston.]
[When she comes back into full consciousness, Grace is set on the porch swing wondering at where the past few days have gone to, listening to ( Read more... )
[When she comes back into full consciousness, Grace is set on the porch swing wondering at where the past few days have gone to, listening to ( Read more... )
Comments 58
He's sitting on the bed he shares with his apparent wife, exerting an air of tensity. The old cowboy's got to say, this place has done a fine job at making him feel more domesticated then he has in years. If he were back in the West, hell if he'd be moping around in a little family bedroom. It makes him feel uneasy, and he really can't do much of anything about it, which just makes him even more uneasy. It's true that there are some striving for an escape, but John's pessimism says that they won't be getting out of Mayfield for a long, long time ( ... )
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It wasn't that she couldn't recall waking up, finding him there instead of the man that had replaced Atticus. She remembered his surprise, she knew she'd spent the last few nights cooking up chicken dinners and meatloaf and several pies, and greeting the man at the door when he came home. Showing him the coffee percolator, ironing his blue collar shirts. The dull day by day of routine.
Why then, hadn't she formed a strong opinion of the man?
A shadow of a strange frown fell across her face, a slow squint of sudden keen life in her eyes. She looked him up and down, his mannerisms, his easy swagger of a step-
Decided then and there this town could'a done her worse.]
Fine evening, John.
[She drawled easily, setting her heels back and rocking the swing slowly.]
Neighborhood's been treatin' you well?
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Besides the pause, she was looking over him with a strange sort of confusion. It was clear she remembered him, but the look she was giving him was more something he'd expect to receive from a casual acquaintance; someone who knew of him, but never really spoke directly with him.
It wasn't exactly something he expected from a woman he'd been living with for three days or so.
So, given everything, this moment of quiet was... well, unexpected. ]
Yes, ma'am.
[ John almost reached up to tip his hat, but he catches himself before he can. There's no hat to tip, and there hasn't been one for a few days now, but John supposes it's a force of habit thing. ( ... )
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[Different. He was just noticing that now? She eyed the man shrewdly. Had he caught on to her politics (and would he call her out on being 'red'?), or finding some politically acceptable way of bringing up what a woman of her 'background' was doing on this street?
She made a low, thoughtful sound him her throat, the callused patch of skin between her fingers itching for a smoke...but it wasn't right of folk in this place, women mostly, to light up on their front porches. Younger rebellious women, the kind of kids that hung out under the football field bleachers, maybe.]
This town's...sure got its funny ways gettin', yeah.
[Grace admitted slowly, shaking her head. The fuzz feeling was fading, seeming to sharpen the world into focus.]
It's very different from the life I had before showin' up here.
[She shrugged, distant, turning her attention back out across the road. The summer warmth was pleasing. Rapture had always been a very clammy cool. Even under the tracks.]
Takes some getting used to.
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. . . . .
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It wasn't right, children with such little life in them.]
You okay, honey?
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[There is a pause and the barest softening of the mouth.]
You have returned.
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Awww fuck. Not again. [Sits on the side walk, picking grass off his face]
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Yeah I'm fine. I hit the grass not the concrete.
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You watch yourself, man. Taking dives all over the neighborhood- you're lucky you didn't hit the mailbox!
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