How long?
Serafine asked how long it'd taken him to answer her text. Justin responded with a grudging smile and a (slightly guilty) lift of his eyebrows. "More than fifteen minutes."
He watched while Sera drank her tequila shots, gazing pensively at her face as though he'd forgotten about his own drink. His manner now was entirely different from what it had been only minutes ago. Watching someone (a friend? is that what they were? did fighting alongside a person and sleeping with them mean that you got to skip the small talk and the casual social outings?) fall apart in front of you had a tendency to do that.
There was a moment, between the shots and the conversation, when Justin leaned into her space and put his arms around her - slowly and carefully like winding ivy. He leaned his forehead against her own and breathed soft puffs of air against her cheek and stood there silently for as long as she wished it. And maybe for that moment they forgot that things between them were supposed to be awkward, or that they didn't really know each other beyond the shape and fit of their bodies, or that lately they'd both been holding themselves together against a world intent on finding and fraying apart their every vulnerability.
Because hey - they were still here. Vibrant and strong and still so very alive.
So they broke apart. And they talked. And Justin didn't acknowledge the haunted edge to Sera's smile, but neither did it surprise him. He told her he wanted to go with her to see the dealer, less because he thought he'd be useful and more because he didn't want her to deal with this - whatever this was - alone.
They parted ways not long after that, as Sera found companions more suited to her needs and Justin went home to his apartment. And then for a long run. And then probably to sleep.
-----------------------
The next day he showed up at her place, as requested, at precisely 4:30. He caught the keys that Dan tossed him and nodded to the consor with a friendly (if a little reserved) smile. Justin's voice and posture were relaxed, but he had a gun holster clipped to his belt.
When they climbed into the Jeep, Justin started the engine and pulled away from the curb without much delay, following Sera's directions to the dealer's address. He was quiet on the way there, but flipped on the radio at a low volume so they'd have something to listen to, cycling through the still-unfamiliar channels until he landed on one that was playing Ocean Breathes Salty by Modest Mouse.
When they hit the right street, Justin parked the Jeep a few buildings down from their intended destination and jumped to the sidewalk. "So how well do you know this guy, exactly? What should we be expecting?"
Serafine asked how long it'd taken him to answer her text. Justin responded with a grudging smile and a (slightly guilty) lift of his eyebrows. "More than fifteen minutes."
He watched while Sera drank her tequila shots, gazing pensively at her face as though he'd forgotten about his own drink. His manner now was entirely different from what it had been only minutes ago. Watching someone (a friend? is that what they were? did fighting alongside a person and sleeping with them mean that you got to skip the small talk and the casual social outings?) fall apart in front of you had a tendency to do that.
There was a moment, between the shots and the conversation, when Justin leaned into her space and put his arms around her - slowly and carefully like winding ivy. He leaned his forehead against her own and breathed soft puffs of air against her cheek and stood there silently for as long as she wished it. And maybe for that moment they forgot that things between them were supposed to be awkward, or that they didn't really know each other beyond the shape and fit of their bodies, or that lately they'd both been holding themselves together against a world intent on finding and fraying apart their every vulnerability.
Because hey - they were still here. Vibrant and strong and still so very alive.
So they broke apart. And they talked. And Justin didn't acknowledge the haunted edge to Sera's smile, but neither did it surprise him. He told her he wanted to go with her to see the dealer, less because he thought he'd be useful and more because he didn't want her to deal with this - whatever this was - alone.
They parted ways not long after that, as Sera found companions more suited to her needs and Justin went home to his apartment. And then for a long run. And then probably to sleep.
-----------------------
The next day he showed up at her place, as requested, at precisely 4:30. He caught the keys that Dan tossed him and nodded to the consor with a friendly (if a little reserved) smile. Justin's voice and posture were relaxed, but he had a gun holster clipped to his belt.
When they climbed into the Jeep, Justin started the engine and pulled away from the curb without much delay, following Sera's directions to the dealer's address. He was quiet on the way there, but flipped on the radio at a low volume so they'd have something to listen to, cycling through the still-unfamiliar channels until he landed on one that was playing Ocean Breathes Salty by Modest Mouse.
When they hit the right street, Justin parked the Jeep a few buildings down from their intended destination and jumped to the sidewalk. "So how well do you know this guy, exactly? What should we be expecting?"