Down the rabbit hole and into Xanadu.
As a child Bruce had always imagined himself, re-imagined himself, as an adventurer. Solitary of disposition, these adventures, more often than not, were pursued alone. He’d disappear into the grounds that surrounded their home (he was young enough then just to call it home) or perhaps into the basement or the attic and he’d emerge hours later,
( Read more... )
He's long believed in charm, some call it flirtation,as a means to an end. The objective, and there's always an objective, every interaction has a set of objectives on both sides of the exchange whether the participants are aware and admit it or not, and the objective is always best obtained by ensuring the other person wants you to have your way.
Sure, you can use force (brutality), or fear (the threat of brutality), or plain old deception (just take what you want and get out of there before they realise it's gone) and sure all those have their place. But if you can make the other want to give you your ( ... )
Reply
"No,"
He finally says.
"Not really anti-social. I know how to have a good time. I'm just - I've never been afraid to be alone."
Reply
It's the sort of thing she's used to hearing, but it's not the way she's used to hearing it; boys in bars who can't quite decide what subculture they're trying to be a part of, the kind who think (sometimes correctly) a little carefully applied Lone Wolf Image will drop some knickers, they're usually selling it a little harder than this.
She presses her tongue to the back of her teeth and smiles. "Well, they say everybody is." Alone. "But playing pretend like you're not's got its moments."
Reply
"That everyone is alone?"
Something seems to stop inside him somehow as she says that. It just stops. And his eyes, they're dark blue, darker than the blue most people end up with, dark enough you don't seem to realise until he's staring right at you, his eyes stop their travels across the room and rest on her instead.
"That isn't true."
He finally speaks, as if the thing inside him that stopped for that moment has kicked in again.
"People are connected. We're made to be connected."
And he knows the irony in saying that. Bruce rarely feels a connection to anyone. But he doesn't believe that's a natural state of being. He believes it's how he has to be - all he can be - and yet he still tries - and fails - Vesper, Rachel, Julie -
Talia.
Henri.
Going down this path is the height of stupidity. He concentrates on October instead.
"Anyway. I've always liked to play pretend. Big chunks of any persons life are pretend."
Reply
"S'like dress up, yeah? Everybody's making themselves up." October takes that a little more literally than most, sometimes - but then, 'Eddie' here is not one to point fingers in that arena, now, is he? She sips her coffee, a passing interest rising in that instant of stillness (she associates it with both predators and prey and what she wonders is: which are you?).
Reply
"Right. It's like dress up. And I always liked dress up."
He shrugs.
"Mostly."
Another shrug.
"When I was a kid. Not suits, though. I hated suits. Hated tuxedos. But I liked to put a towel around my neck and jump out of trees like an idiot."
Reply
"I bet my girl Mo did that," October speculates - Mo always in the clouds, Mo a little sweeter than the rest, Mo who likes to dance on the ceiling and sometimes will take October up with her (she has to remember to hold the fuck on, because she can't change her own personal gravity on a whim). "Dizzy baby, yeah? She's a sweetheart."
For her own part, she's still playing dress up.
Reply
"Dizzy baby?"
He's not following. He doesn't seem to mind. But he's not following.
And for his own part... so is he.
Reply
"Y'know-" October does an impression of someone a good deal more airy-fairy and adorably sweet than she is, with fluttering hands (more for effect than actual imitation) and wandering, wide-eyed attention. It gets her point across without looking at all convincing - she could never convince anyone that's the kind of girl she is. "Away with the fucking fairies."
Reply
"Ah,"
He says. It's a sound, not a word, a sound used in substitute for a word, when a word seems almost wasted in the context.
"I've known girls like that."
He probably should have said people, that he's known people like that. Not girls. But it always has been girls he's known like that, with that old routine. And the way he says the words are nuetral but in fact he's always been irritated by the type. He's never seen the appeal even as other guys seem enchanted by the chaotic fragility of it.
Then again, it has never really been fragility that sucks him in. Not really. Sure, he likes to save a damsel as much as the next guy, but when it comes down to it he needs those damsels to be able to hold their own against him. He always had but only recently has he become so conciously aware of the fact. He has to know they're strong enough to survive him.
... And they're not always. But even as the thought comes and it flashes with a tightened jaw and eyes that narrow, even then, he flicks it away.
"They're cute."
He finally says.
Reply
Leave a comment