(no subject)
I swing from the tap. "So, I did get your key?"
It's hanging up in my room.
Bluff 2.
"Yes, William, you did."
"Good." Cleaning my mouth on my forearm, I turn back to her. "Then what brings this most welcomed trespasing?" With a swagger, I rotate to the fridge and ruffle my way around. Franly, I'm lucky I wasn't pulled in by some vengeful leftover, moreso that the least of my worries is an empty icebox. "Oh! I know, those books you grabbed from me on the way out? I was wondering when I'd get those back, but I suppose the sphincter would have tried to sound his way through. Not bad timing." It's only a very far off chance she took anything of mine.
Bluff 3.
"You asshole." In a huff, she barricades herself with her back. Still wet, my hand engulfs her arm. Clockwork. She turns. Very few souls can ignore a drenched paw against their arm.
The momentum helps dig her palm into my face. With just that, the outfit is complete. Ripped tie, glazed eyes, unwashed hair and now a red hand against my cheek. I'm the perfect picture of the alcoholic jerk.
"I sure as hell didn't come to be insulted! Selfish...selfish...ASSHOLE!"
We've been over this.
FUCK! Please tell me I didn't say that.
The reruned slap is proof enough.
"God DAMN it, woman, stop hitting me!"
Again, a hand meets sore flesh.
"It was cute when we were together. We aren't now. Never call me woman again."
I throw her arm back and catch the oncoming wrist.
"Stop hitting me." Equipped with my big-boy voice, it comes out a teeth-strained growl.
All along the length of her arm, the muscles die.
"Well, I'm sober now. What do you want? If it's a friendly chat, sorry, but I'm all out of tea and I'll see you next time."
She breaks my hold and straightens herself out, the vulnerability washing away with the wrinkles. "I came to make sure you were still alive. I haven't seen or heard from you for, what, three months?"
She's got a point, I haven't been raising nearly enough trouble, especially if it hasn't hit the top yet. I should tell her.
"You've got a point. I should stir the shit some more."
Like a disappointed mother, she just shakes her head.
"Look," I say, pulling the tie off and letting it flutter and die where it will. "I'm dying here, so you can come get a bite to eat with me or you can at least let me out of my kitchen."
Wrote most of it at work, not sure if I like it...Eh, whatever.