@apsychometry Continued from X
Aye’, that’s so,” confrontational. Fired up. Knuckles tight and skin flush with what he would have you believe is RAGE. It’s not. Would never admit it but hospital’s send white hot fear through him. (A learned behaviour, mind.) However his attitude falls rather short with Astra. The kid’s not used to people LISTENING to him. All adults, in his humble analysis, come with the ‘I know best’ catchphrase. And so when Astra offers a new suggestion his shoulders will slump and his gaze drops guiltily.
(Guiltier still when his eyes sweep across those bandages. That had to be his fault, right? Fires don’t just START for no good reason. And now he was cruisin’ for a bruisin’ with the poor woman.)
“Ain’t red velvet what the rich people wear?” Curiosity creeps into Lex’s tone, soothing bonfire eyes with a warm crackle. Cookies though! The kid knows cookies. The kid LOVES cookies. (What kid doesn’t?) Sheepish now his eyes move up to meet Astra’s briefly before uncertainty snatches them sharply away again.
The idea that this is some kind of trap is nothing PERSONAL. Lex spends half his life waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Astra’s smile is reassuring and something about her feels familiar. As if they’re not so far apart. Besides, the kid is always hungry. No, not hungry. FAMISHED. Hasn’t had a half decent meal all week.
(.....cookies.)
“I like anythin’ in my stomach better than visiting a doctor.”
( A tentative ‘yes’. )
It’s funny too but with a mouthful of cookie and cake answers come easier to the kid. Gets himself all TALKATIVE. “Doctors are devils in disguise,” he mutters with crumbs in the corners of his mouth and the words sound out of place from Lex’s lips. “Money leeches, don’t want you t’ get better because then they’re out of a job,” the rhythm to this rant suggests repetition. Falls quiet and for a second the kid is all BURNT OUT. “That’s what my da’ always said.”
What Lex fails to see is his dad was a GRADE A Asshole. A volatile mix of ignorance and loud opinions. But the kid is blind to this now, how strange that death insists upon rose tinted glasses for those left behind.
Sniffs sharply and looks anywhere else,
“Where’d you learn to bake? You’re great.”







