file ; alice , neutral.
SHE’S REACHING OUT TO HESITANTLY PET THE NOSE of hank’s dog , clicking her tongue quietly as she nods . he seems so soft , but she jumps when the blanket touches her shoulders , and she looks up at hank , wary and guarded . she pushes her shoes off with her feet , and tucks her numb soles beneath the blanket , pulling it around her and leaving one hand free to pet the dog as he moves to rest beside her . the warmth is appreciated greatly . “ what - what’s your dogs … name ? ” she asks , voice quiet and dry .
too familiar a circumstance had been set out before his eyes, and it hurts. like mist over waters, fleets over the pure torture kvetchings place him ; the girl is a swaddled mess of unfitting blankets and mismatched pillows found about his home. ( of course ! and it dawns frustration and bitter remembrance. ) god damn it. despite diligent effort and believe me, he tries, hank always manages to get himself into the craziest shit. taking in the child, at least for the night, though a damned conscience wouldn’t have let him do anything otherwise. pellets against scenic windows, the gentle yet ever-present whistle of detroit winds. he had to. muttered phrases, curses, minding his language, and takes lazuli strides to his kitchen.
❛❛ uh ... sumo. ––– i call him sumo. you know. like a big wrestler. ❜❜ and he makes comments as digits rummage throughout his cabinets in search of anything. ❛❛ think he likes you. or he’s just tryin’ to snag your blanket. one of the two. ❜❜
cont. @tacticrn