There was no reason to believe him, there never was. Standing on the edge of violent syntax meant that any word he ever issued out of smirking expression could be construed in ways totally dependant on the recipient. Lies were never his intention, as he vary rarely dipped into those waters. Though he knew if he plated his delivery well enough, outlined the proper capitals he could dredge up the desired results. This was not one of those times. Sincerity was at the forefront, a symptom of the hangover, of bone exhaustion and the development of grey gradients that was showering over.Whitewashing the past was one of Boyd’s more natural talents. Moving forward without making due allowances for the effects he had on those around him. It had been nothing but a seasons passing since he soaked up the frame of this very house, leaned into into the same one he did last night. Came in as creature of slithering mirth and competition, claiming territory where there was none to be had and taking advantage of her intermediary hold. Sanction of a woman who’d been through the tribulations of his family ten fold, played the single starling in a pack of coyotes over an over again with resolve.
She should have fuckin’ turned him away last night, for decencies sake, on basic principle, on grounds too numerous to declare. Wildlife stowed away in the attack had more right to be here than he did at this point.
As the gloss of his fractured thoughts split and rearranged in a heated inner monologue, nail-less thumb picked at a hairline fracture in the cup’s glaze. Falling into the suction of pity meant it took a couple turns of his mind engine to realize Ava had asked for her lighter. A inquisitive “Hmm?” forcing focus back on the present, to the condition of the kitchen, the air now perfumed with the semi-sweet fires of tobacco. “Oh.” Delay of information getting to receptors brought auditory request into action as scouring eyes searched the detritus of the table’s array. Crumbs from a previous meal, frayed doily unravelling into expansive reach, a small pile of mail a messily shuffled tower with edges all at staggered points. Unpaid and avoided. It was near the salt shaker that he did find the small disposable bic lighter, picking it up between forefinger and thumb. Apex of his elbow stabbing downward for stability the very tip of bone made contact with the table, so sharp was the angle that blade could have dug through clothes layers and perforate the table with it’s presence.
There was no move to get up and offer up the item as a sacred gift. To invade her space further and bring back about some unsettling memories from past more recent and buried. Instead he waited for her to approach him, make the moves necessary to reclaim what was hers as Boyd spun the little tool in a wind-whirl with the aid of his opposing hand. Slick surface running round in a calculated clockwise circle, fluid inside disoriented within it’s casing. With the easing activity occupying his hold an appearance of a tongue touched at upper lip. Catching at the thickened concretion of cells there, a rake of teeth fallowing in suit as an entire saga’s worth of fuselage wanted to spill. In a world as large as it was, with borders nothing but ephemeral lines Boyd could have gone anywhere. If anywhere was anything more than empty. The connections he had built, no matter how strained or convoluted they were at this point was his only grounding. Connections that were paper thin and edging ever closer to a heat source threatening to burn…it wasn’t much longer before he was entirely alone. Alone was not one of Boyd’s strengths.
“No Ava, I ain’t got no where else to go.”
Snap, snap.
Thumb and middle fingers cricketed twice, positive she’d lost him somewhere along the way. A sure fire way to make her sing was to strum upon her greatest pet peeve. She abhorred when people ignored her. It was just plain rude. “Hello, you hearin’ me, Boyd?” She pried, tongue in cheek as frustration began its crescendo, fluxed vexation loping ducts with each beat of kind and lenient heart. The outlaw’s perk in attention pronounced female’s jawline, shifting in irritated idiosyncrasy. “Oh.” She mocked incredulously, perfectly preened crescents towering to their full height as blue moons circumnavigated axis of choler. That was all he had to say? Oh. Didn’t even possess an ounce of propriety to apologize for daydreaming in midst of a pressing interrogation? Did Boyd fail to understand just how crucially valuable his rescripts were in regards to the adjudicative matters of his fate, or had he just given up entirely? Studying him, fascinated oculars winced and thumb idly flicked cylindrical filter of unlit cigarette.
She thought she was stubborn.
Honing in on chironomy, she speculated the male in muteness. Ava was quick to jump the gun on her accusations. Despite noetic walls obtruding space between them, he’d astonishingly perceived every bitter word that surpassing lips. Azures monitored the dawdling horizontal spiral of crimson plastic lighter and desperado’s reluctance to physically indulge her request reminded the female, men were but fickle creatures. They were capable of freely expressing kindness and compassion, yet when it came to pride and dignity, they were fragile qualities best left untouched or unmentioned. No man ever wanted to admit they were inadequate or incapable and since Boyd’s arrival evening prior, all Ava did was demoralize him, emphasize his iniquities past and present. No cup of coffee could curb the dejection of rejection, nor could any form of hospitality quilt its tenderness. Cultivating a way to help coax the outlaw from his shell, she pondered. What could she possibly do or say to inveigle his desire to open up and humbly request her willing, helping hand?
Hips pendulated leisurely in marauder’s direction, predatory sapphire gems descending upon him as distance closed per his reticent request. Single palm adorning docile cigarette beveled over curvature of tense, muscular shoulder, worn and exhausted by the years of self-inflicted abuse he mercilessly endured. Soft thumb curled, effleuraging singular, orbital stroke against knotted, overwrought ache to delude him from the subtle way her slender frame arched, slithered, and inched nearer, meshing and mixing the oil and water of opposing spatial empathies. Slightly parted lips fell naturally into his gravitational pull, angelic advances persisting as she reeled dangerously closer. Hovering, tiers threatened to clasp warm, succulent lobe as hot breath fanned neck’s crook with susurrant words of disappointment.
“You ain’t gonna answer my question are you, Boyd?”
Free limb craftily reached around opposing side, fingers quickly grazing lighter from his grasp. Smirking victoriously, contoured hand abseiled smoothly from devil’s wing and she swiped unopened letters in passing twist of heels. Returning to corner roost, cigarette was finally stowed and lit between lips. “I’m just askin’ you plain and simple. Are you gonna continue bein’ a knucklehead or you gonna actually do somethin’ about your future, — cause honestly Boyd, I can tell you drowinin’ yourself in Jim Bean, an’ self-pity, ain’t gonna be the answers your problems.”
Azure hues rose from dated documents and revisited the outlaw, tending to his expression in attempt to drink in his reaction. “I know we ain’t the best of friends, but you’re still family.“ She wasn’t positive he retained any of what was recited the night before, but the bit perorated about his being the only kin which remained, was straight from the heart, even if her execution hadn’t quite catered to his sensitive needs. “But just ‘cause you’re family ain’t enough reason for me to welcome you into my home with open arms. Now, I’d be lyin’ if I said I trusted you any, ‘cause truthfully, after the awful ways I was treated by the men in this family, I don’t know how much more I can take.” Ferrying smoke to lungs, she set all, but two envelopes aside. Accumulated pay for a months worth of work was just enough money to pay last month’s water and electric bill alongside partial mortgage. Enough to hold collectors off until she could come up with sufficient funds to pay more recent debts.
“Way I see it, if you don’t have nowhere else to go, I might be inclined to let you stay if you can give me one good reason.” Her head shook, shrugging shoulders following suit. Reaching idle coffee mug, she brought ceramic cup to lips, its contents now an undesirable luke-warm temperature. Digits popped microwave door open and she left agateware to reheat, the hum of rotating glassware and coils ringing behind her closing, statement.
“God gave you a clever tongue for a reason, Boyd. Now would be the time use it’.”
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