Dante took everything in stride. In a way that Jim had long forgotten how to do—if he’d ever been able to do it at all, which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t likely—but Dante took Jim’s anger in stride, as easily as he took his innuendo. He came back at whatever Jim had to offer with a smile on his face, a cheeky flash of straight teeth, a twinkle in dark, vaguely intoxicating eyes.
And Jim didn’t know if he liked it or hated it. A part of him found it impressive—almost admirable. Or perhaps enviable. To be able to compartmentalize in that way. Let everything roll off his shoulders like it was nothing but a harmless spring rain. Like nothing could touch him. Jim was so far from untouchable. In fact, he’d carved himself into a stone and mortar in order to become untouchable. In order to build himself a home no one could break into, or burn down. But there was only so much a fortress of fear could do for him, and as he looked at Dante’s face, the amusement on pink lips, he had the sinking suspicion that his was a weaker tactic.
And yes, it bothered him. Annoyed him, even, for he couldn’t have what this one had. Couldn’t even remember himself well enough to know if he’d ever been human enough to feel that relaxed, that self assured. That safe in his own skin.
There was a moment where Jim felt that same flash of paranoia—the words ‘enjoy your adrenaline-inducing company’ triggered it. Because did it not sound a little too sardonic? Was the look on the young man’s face not as facetious as it was playful? The truth was, Jim couldn’t tell. Because though he found he knew how to charm and manipulate quite successfully, should he put his mind to it, he had difficulty reading others with the same finesse. Or perhaps it was that he had difficulty trusting the charm of others. Believing it was ever genuine, as opposed to clever trickery. And Jim was wary of being tricked.
I’m certainly not being disappointed, whatever it is.
It earned him another look. This one careful, unsure. Jim was still a charged live wire from that suspicion of being mocked, and so he was skeptical of these words too. But even to his defensive ears, they sounded sincere. Or perhaps it was the look on Dante’s face that gave him away. Or the slant of his smirk, in which Jim found authenticity he could believe.
Whatever it was, or whatever the reason, it had him unclenching. Just slightly.
And still, he couldn’t stop looking. Because he didn’t understand Dante either. Didn’t understand why he was still sitting here, what he could possibly find pleasing about Jim’s company, or how he could possibly be interested enough in the somewhat emotionally one sided conversation to stay. Jim was well aware he was giving him very little, in terms of being inviting or open in any way. So why the other was still sitting so close, still smiling, was quite frankly, completely beyond Jim.
So he didn’t understand Dante anymore than Dante understood Jim. And it was this lack understanding, of being able to label him, or put him in a box, that had rendered him somewhat speechless, and taking in angular, symmetrical features with an almost-scrutiny.
Finally, he spoke. “Likely both, coming from me,” he said, looking away. His words were looser now, almost aimless. “What can I say, I’m a man of many talents. ” He shifted. Twitched. His palm itched all of a sudden. “I need a fucking smoke,” he finally said, standing up. But as he pulled a cigarette out from the cuff of his sleeve, he looked down at Dante expectantly—his expression somewhere between flippant and impatient. “You coming?”
Dante didn’t claim to know Jim well - could anyone? But it struck him that an invitation from Jim Balon was unlikely to be a simple invitation. There always seemed to be some subtext or subterfuge beneath the thorned stem of his words, and the inscrutability of it was what kept Dante hanging onto each syllable. Jim was a challenge, a distraction, a person of great interest - much as Dante loved to be challenged, he hadn’t met anyone that challenged him quite like Jim.
Or, maybe a cigarette is just a cigarette.
It just seemed unlikely, because Jim was so patently a loner, and yet there he stood inviting Dante to join him. In a manner of speaking - ‘you coming?’ wasn’t a tacit invitation as much as it was permission. Which, for now, Dante was willing to take, doubtful as he was of Jim’s intentions.They’d already established that Jim was wont to be both threatening and seductive in the same breath, and he had to wonder what that meant with regards to cigarette breaks.
“To be ravished, or assaulted?” Dante asked, as though the answer was likely to change his opinion. He was already heaving himself up from the sofa - pausing for the barest moment as his head spun, because he had managed to evade the nurse’s watchful eye that morning and pocketed his breakfast instead of eating it. Blinking away the clouded darkness that threatened his vision, Dante saw for the first time how damn tall Jim was.
He realised now that their two conversations had been seated, not allowing him to fully appreciate the magnitude of Jim’s height. Dante wasn’t used to feeling short, and yet he had to look up at Jim as he fell into step beside him. The only thing preventing him from commenting was the fact that when you’re as tall as Jim, you’ve no doubt heard every variation of ‘gee, you sure are tall’ that exists within the spectrum of human imagination.
