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+--- Thread: no man's land [after open mic] (/showthread.php?tid=977)
no man's land [after open mic] - mnemosyne - 07-01-2015
Outside the close atmosphere disappears as the crowd disperses in strange little streams. Laughter echoes in the quiet streets. A few of the evening's rather overtly hipster crowd are still lingering, sharing the odd cigarette on the front stoop of No Man's Land.
She's a few steps ahead of him; he's a few steps behind. Catches up easily, though, those long skinny legs of his. Sparkling on an evening buzz that has not expanded much beyond that initial brightness, that opening-up of the self. Catches up easily and catches her around the shoulders, dropping his mouth to her ear though he doesn't have to drop his mouth very far, 'cos she's wearing heels tonight.
"I wasn't actually eavesdropping," he begins, and she lifts her chin up enough to give him this smirk coupled with a little roll of her eyes that has him laughing and dropping a kiss somewhere close to the crown of her golden head. "Fine. I wasn't actively trying to eavesdrop."
She laughs, then. Keeps her mouth closed so the laughter kinda shivers through her skinny shoulders, gets added richness because it is so contained in her chest. And hums her, Mmmm Hmmm around her closed mouth with a primness that he finds pretty hard to resist.
"Right so: is it my imagination,"
" - it's your fucking imagination -"
"or did you actually just tell Elijah that he's gotta spend less time partying and more time studying if he wants to make it as a Hermetic?"
The last bit is quieter, and now his eyes are on her face, her profile stark against the soft-focused darkness of the street beyond her. This flicker of the fine muscles beneath her eyes and then she's looking up at him again. Pensive in her own way, which always feels more physical than metaphysical.
"Well, you know, it's like that fucking puppet. The one from the story who wants to be a kid or whatever. With the nose."
"You know I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I mean: there's a helluva lot of work that goes into being a Real Live Boy. No one else can do it for you." Somewhere in the middle of that little speech, her eyes drop from his and she cuts her glance: away, away, away. "And if you wanna do it, you've got to fucking - "
His arm tightens around her shoulders, his voice a low rumble. "You don't have to convince me."
"Yeah, well. What the fuck do I know."
"Stop it, Sera." The quietest sort of warning embedded in his voice.
"I know. I just - I dunno. I think I'm gonna call Claire's dad. But I don't wanna think about it right now and I can't stop - "
"Shhh. Let's go back to the first part then. I'm gonna write it down. Fuck it, I'm gonna write a song about it - "
"Shut the - "
"No, seriously. I'm proud of you. That was good advice."
"I know it. I'm pretty fucking smart sometimes."
"Yeah, you are."