The whole beginning part gets a roll of his eyes as the flood lights and dark shadows outside of it, all the tables and chairs, high trees and dense dark spots, vanish for the warm yellow-white light of the porch and then, following Danny in, the even softer white light of the living room. Which happens to be empty.
It furrows his eyebrows, making him glance toward the stairs, listening. Coming back down and just catching Danny's eyes before the sounds from the kitchen comes. When at least it puts her not far from where he'd left her. Having to remember he just up and left her, whether it was at her exasperated, thread bare, encouragement. When he's still looking toward that doorway, when Danny's question is hitting his ears.
"Yeah. Top shelf." Which a little distracted, when he's already walking toward the doorway and the kitchen.
Even steps, broad shoulders, and no idea what sensible hesitation before a round of bullets or a firing squad would ever be. It isn't part of him, and there's no point hanging back. She'll have heard the door. The house is too quiet, which is when he notices the TV's been turned off. She'd definitely have heard the door. There's no point in putting it off.
It's not even that many steps away. How many times in the last two weeks has he mapped it? The walk from here to there. The fumble of bodies and clothes, without being willing to even look up or think about them. The steps between the bedroom and the beach and the kitchen and back up before work. That brings him shortly to Cath, from the back.
Long shining dark hair falling through half of her back, that offsets the brilliant purple shirt across her shoulders.
The shoulders that are anything but easy, and he's known her long enough to see it. Just in how she's standing. The way she does when she's stuck with something, or challenged. He gave a glance at the ceiling, not even really waiting to see if Danny had followed him or waited behind.
Stepping in, with easy sort of even, "You didn't have to do that," that might be just as much as announcement of not avoiding her or any of this, as the door was. It wasn't like he wanted them all camped out rooms apart, even if he had no idea what would happen with them both in one space. How he was supposed to do, say...anything.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-02-07 01:53 am (UTC)It furrows his eyebrows, making him glance toward the stairs, listening. Coming back down and just catching Danny's eyes before the sounds from the kitchen comes. When at least it puts her not far from where he'd left her. Having to remember he just up and left her, whether it was at her exasperated, thread bare, encouragement. When he's still looking toward that doorway, when Danny's question is hitting his ears.
"Yeah. Top shelf." Which a little distracted, when he's already walking toward the doorway and the kitchen.
Even steps, broad shoulders, and no idea what sensible hesitation before a round of bullets or a firing squad would ever be. It isn't part of him, and there's no point hanging back. She'll have heard the door. The house is too quiet, which is when he notices the TV's been turned off. She'd definitely have heard the door. There's no point in putting it off.
It's not even that many steps away. How many times in the last two weeks has he mapped it? The walk from here to there. The fumble of bodies and clothes, without being willing to even look up or think about them. The steps between the bedroom and the beach and the kitchen and back up before work. That brings him shortly to Cath, from the back.
Long shining dark hair falling through half of her back, that offsets the brilliant purple shirt across her shoulders.
The shoulders that are anything but easy, and he's known her long enough to see it. Just in how she's standing. The way she does when she's stuck with something, or challenged. He gave a glance at the ceiling, not even really waiting to see if Danny had followed him or waited behind.
Stepping in, with easy sort of even, "You didn't have to do that," that might be just as much as announcement of not avoiding her or any of this, as the door was. It wasn't like he wanted them all camped out rooms apart, even if he had no idea what would happen with them both in one space. How he was supposed to do, say...anything.