a crazed look fills his eyes when he walks in the room, something that wasn't there before he realized who was present. the muscles in his face clench, and his cheekbones seem to drift upwards, pulling the corners of his mouth into a determined smile. the gears that were already working inside push into overdrive, and something uncanny begins to work its way out of his mouth. me and karen just sit there, our dialogue dwindling as we sense the unspoken equilibrium beginning to tip. not that we were talking about much anyway, her summer house on block island, a rundown house for a rundown conversation. i'm not that into her, so i haven't been asking the hard hitting questions, and she's not into me at all, so she's been answering pretty briefly. we sense a savior in eliot's entry, and our eyes (yes mine too) dart to his hard torso when we hear the door creak; he will know where to take us, he will mold our minds and our bodies into something he will call fun.
"yooooooooooooo guys," turns out to be all we get from eliot before he throws his body onto the bed; it's mostly directed at karen, who he fucked last week and said it wasn't so good. his voice is a very deep bass, made deeper by the affect it carries, a demi-godly boom that drowns out any message he might try to put forth. karen gets up and sits on the bed next to him, already running the nail of a pointer finger against his chest before her bulging bottom hits the comforter. with this clear cue to make myself scarce, i step out of the room, lighting up a final smoke for the night before i make it out to the porch.