[ The pads of Flint's hands are blocky with calluses, old cuts and scrapes healed white across the bony backs of his fingers. That his nails aren't black is a phenomenon that has everything to do with how little time he's spent out of his tube. His pants are already dirty and his feet are bare, dark on the bottoms.
His windbreaker has shed the worst of the rest, morning dew caught in the creases around the hood. It's not just stylish.
The carefully choreographed concealment of her smile is lost on him.
But he can't not hear her, and his eyes work their way up at the same dumb rate as the beetle feeling its way up her robe one clumsy claw at a time. Her hand expedites the process, and he's easily led, attention channeled like water along the lowest path.
He makes the leap from her mouth to her eyes on his own, locking in from one focal point to two.
She's weird.
This is weird.
Tension that had eased off starts to creep back in, low in his spine, as he calculates for her position between himself and the door. ]
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His windbreaker has shed the worst of the rest, morning dew caught in the creases around the hood. It's not just stylish.
The carefully choreographed concealment of her smile is lost on him.
But he can't not hear her, and his eyes work their way up at the same dumb rate as the beetle feeling its way up her robe one clumsy claw at a time. Her hand expedites the process, and he's easily led, attention channeled like water along the lowest path.
He makes the leap from her mouth to her eyes on his own, locking in from one focal point to two.
She's weird.
This is weird.
Tension that had eased off starts to creep back in, low in his spine, as he calculates for her position between himself and the door. ]