Jon is glaring fiercely at him, brows knitted together and lip curled into a scowl.
“How do you know of Leitner?” Jon asks, folding his arms across his chest.
“Well I, I don’t know him? If you mean the books themselves uhm, like I said- you just hear things and I’m only really here to collect them for my employer.”
Jon clearly doesn’t buy his fib. He rises near silently from his stool and marches clean out of the pub. Martin stupidly gets up to follow him, despite the call of the bartender. The weather outside is wicked and terrible. Salty water whips around Martin’s head and soaks him to the bone. Jon walks quickly ahead as if not affected by the torrential rain coming down upon them. One foot in front of the other, short legs moving impossibly fast.
Martin pushes forward anyway, shielding his face with his arm. The rain hurts and thunder explodes across the sky, “Jon- hey!”
The man turns, hair whipping around violently in the wind. He stares openly at Martin, his eyes wide and utterly dark. But he stops and he doesn’t stop staring.
The gesture gives Martin enough time to close the distance. He pushes on, skipping over a puddle until he’s standing before this. Man. This wild man, who apparently ignores the most violent of weather.
He reaches out slowly and Jon looks like he might start walking away again. Martin grabs him by the hem of his sleeve, ignoring how skin-like Jon’s coat feels. Jon turns sharply and those big dark eyes of his are narrowed, “What are you doing?”
“It’s dangerous out,” Martin says. Jon rolls his eyes, nose wrinkling with a look of near disgust but he hasn’t pulled away from him yet.
“And yet here you are,” Jon hisses, “Look around you. Is this not dangerous? Why did you follow me?”
He doesn’t have an exact answer. Why did he get up and follow him despite the weather? Why did Martin follow him this far. He looks around and realizes he doesn’t actually know where he is. They’re far from town, closer to the violent shore than anywhere else. Even in the dark he can see the waves rushing the cliffside in violent turns. But he can’t remember walking this far. He feels like he’s only walked a block. How..
Jon snorts out a laugh, high and thin in the back of his throat, “No answer? You really are foolish.”
Martin’s face warms uncomfortably despite the chill of the rain, “Am I as foolish as you?” the words leave his mouth before he can stop himself, “You ran out here first, you know?”
This time when Jon laughs it’s full bodied and rich. The sound comes straight from his chest and reverberates through Martin’s skull. How beautiful can one man be in the middle of a rainstorm with his head tossed back towards the sky?
dededos
prguitarman
kianamaiart
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
