THERE’S NO FIGHT LEFT IN HIM ; NOTHING LEFT TO FIGHT. fingers are numb , the chill of the cold air crossing over once warm skin. he can’tremember what brought him here. why he’s lost the feeling in his body. could it be pain ? loss ? or maybe just a drunken stupor. that sounds more like him. falling asleep in the cold streets. why not ? would it really hurt to abandon all this ?
words slam into eardrums ; despite the rather gentle tone. dark hues lower to look at his hands. help ? no – he doesn’t need help. he’s fine. everything is just fine. despite the fact that he’s been sitting outside for the past – three hours ? okay. his mind wandered off after the second hour. cigarette sits between chilled fingers. last he remembers it was lit. it’s long since gone out. digits part , allowing the nicotine to drop to the ground. ithurts to move.
❛ i think i’m good. ❜ yet he doesn’t pull away from her touch. he’ll comply. & perhaps he doesn’t mind the occasional coddling or cuddling. fingers shift over the other’s skin. her hand is soft. she’s soft. peering toward the woman , a smile is offered. ❛ conjure me up a drink , that’ll heat me up – come to think of it – the two of us have yet to share a drink. sinful. ❜
JULIA ISN’T doing well. her best friend is dead. but--- she seems to be
doing somewhat better than eliot and alice. she’s not entirely sure what
it was that happened between quentin and the magician in front of her,
but whatever it was, it’s making him handle q’s death even worse than
her. despite her own pain, she remembers a certain man coming to her
when she was at her lowest point and pulling her up out of it, giving her
a purpose. she gently cradles eliot’s frozen fingers in hers, warming
them up slowly.
❝ i’ll share a drink with you if you come inside. you’re going to freeze out here. ❞
