(no subject)
Nanashi to Oublié and back again, and he thinks he's laid low more than long enough. A few nights in bars that amount to little more than shacks with tables. A lot of nights he doesn't remember and a lot of waking up next to people whose names he's not clear on. That until the credits ran low, and then a little more time spent floating in the black with Florence humming moodily around him.
He keeps thinking about her eyes. Cold. And in there was something there he couldn't touch. He had her wrapped around his finger with the Snake there on the end of his arm like a baited hook. She should have been his. And in the end part of her still wasn't.
He'd still had some of it in a little bag, barely enough for five hits even cut, and he'd stared at it. He's never used. He doesn't like the idea of being a slave to something like that.
Anyway.
Enough's enough and he's poor again, and Florence needs to eat even more than he does. He's heard that Miranda's cooled down a little and so he's back, Florence safely stowed. He's got nothing to sell at the moment but his services, but that's still something.
When you're on the market, the market is where you go. He wanders through the stalls and the crowds, buys a piece of smoked meat that might be just about anything, keeps his eye out. The other one, too.
Things come to those who wait. They might even be good.
He keeps thinking about her eyes. Cold. And in there was something there he couldn't touch. He had her wrapped around his finger with the Snake there on the end of his arm like a baited hook. She should have been his. And in the end part of her still wasn't.
He'd still had some of it in a little bag, barely enough for five hits even cut, and he'd stared at it. He's never used. He doesn't like the idea of being a slave to something like that.
Anyway.
Enough's enough and he's poor again, and Florence needs to eat even more than he does. He's heard that Miranda's cooled down a little and so he's back, Florence safely stowed. He's got nothing to sell at the moment but his services, but that's still something.
When you're on the market, the market is where you go. He wanders through the stalls and the crowds, buys a piece of smoked meat that might be just about anything, keeps his eye out. The other one, too.
Things come to those who wait. They might even be good.