It's...cute. Drags his mouth crooked, lopsided, wide, and just a little too tight right at the corners.
Taking the obvious, and in some ways, oblivious, compliment, even when some part of him squirms from it, like the ground became oil slick. Letting it settle in as something as arrogant as it is plastic, and maybe even more humoring than accepting, or enjoying. The oil slickening a layer on top of everything in his stomach. Like that could be it.
Simple reason. Simple to start, simple to end. Except. None of that has changed in the last two years. Not the first year. Not last year. Definitely, not suddenly in the last month. The only difference was that he left to find Shelburne and ended up with Wo Fat, briefly, and his mother, instead. And Danny trying to kill a coffee cup, when only weeks earlier he'd been on the sand with Grace, Gabby and that butterfly.
He doesn't have any idea how it happened. How Danny's words about being pissed as hell, about wanting him near slipped into dreams, into fantasties, became this. Maybe, that's the reason her beer gets a toast tipped toward it, but her words only get a rueful twist of lips around the top of his bottle as he's draining his.
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Taking the obvious, and in some ways, oblivious, compliment, even when some part of him squirms from it, like the ground became oil slick. Letting it settle in as something as arrogant as it is plastic, and maybe even more humoring than accepting, or enjoying. The oil slickening a layer on top of everything in his stomach. Like that could be it.
Simple reason. Simple to start, simple to end. Except. None of that has changed in the last two years. Not the first year. Not last year. Definitely, not suddenly in the last month. The only difference was that he left to find Shelburne and ended up with Wo Fat, briefly, and his mother, instead. And Danny trying to kill a coffee cup, when only weeks earlier he'd been on the sand with Grace, Gabby and that butterfly.
He doesn't have any idea how it happened. How Danny's words about being pissed as hell, about wanting him near slipped into dreams, into fantasties, became this. Maybe, that's the reason her beer gets a toast tipped toward it, but her words only get a rueful twist of lips around the top of his bottle as he's draining his.