She finds him curious – perhaps not in a good way, because, right now, with his guilt and his hesitation, he reminds her far too much of herself. Oh, Dorcas has reassured herself over and over that almost killing some of those mortals with the fire meant nothing to her – it doesn’t, she’s done it before. However, she might have done it before, but that doesn’t take away the fact that every time, every single time, the slight tinge of guilt is there – that’s why she could determine that the other witch was feeling the exact same thing, a sense of familiarity that goes beyond the cunningness and ability to read people Prudence has. Right now, as she glances up at him, carmine lips pressed tightly together, she can see the uneasiness in his countenance, the one that her sisters have quelled in herself a few hours before – she cannot allow him to hesitate as well, because hesitation is a weakness, and no witch can afford to show such a thing, “it does matter if you are going to end up blabbing about it to the Dean. if you do that, then I will have to set you on fire.”
Eyebrows furrow upon seeing him withdraw the small cigarette – oh, she has seen it before, she doesn’t know the exact name, but that type of cigar has a vile smell that all three sisters despise, and she has no trouble making it known to him, “you’re going to get in even bigger trouble for that. isn’t that a mortal drug? you’re so pathetic.”
Nose turns up, arms remain folded tightly over her chest as she watches him roll on the bed towards her. Oh, she does not enjoy his perspicacity; his words are sharp as knives and hitting hard on her, because yes, she is indeed projecting – getting in trouble with the Academy means losing her sisters, losing everything she once fought for. A chance to become someone, according to Prue, something more than a Church orphan. That’s not something she’s willing to risk for the sake of covering this stupid boy’s guilt, “I do worry. you may not care about getting expelled, but I do. unlike you, we sisters actually have ambition,” isn’t that what Prue always says? Ambition is everything a female witch must strive for, “I am always cute, thank you very much,” eyebrows furrow, hand waves around to get rid of the disgusting smoke surrounding them, lips purse, “that I’m doing charity with you?” oh, now she’s just sounding as mean as Prue and Agatha – then again, she strives to be, she needs to be, “I just came here to make sure to let you know that we have backup. I don’t intend to stay the night.”
“ I CAN SET MYSELF ON FIRE thank you very much , ” he scoffs , waving his hand dismissively , “ besides , i’m no snitch . guilty or not it’s been done . confessing won’t do much good now will it ?? ” of course it would , but at the moment , he couldn’t find the point .
he shouldn’t flinch at the word , but he does . and he hates that he does . ‘ pathetic ’ . as if like his nan was there : watching him . breathing down his neck . josiah considers the joint between his fingers and takes one last sharp inhale before dropping it into the glass of water on his end table . it had originally set him at ease , but he’s not one to enjoy it while his company suffers . also at the end table a small vase full of incense . he lights it and leans back once more . “ getting in trouble and being mocked are two completely different things . i really don’t think they’ll care all that much . ” there’s an edge to his voice even as he tries to hide it .
she doesn’t look at him -- won’t . he rolls back , counting the ceiling marks . “ ambition , ” he tests the words between his lips . “ don’t know her . ” he chuckles in jest but it’s so near to the truth that perhaps , that is the joke itself . josiah whitmore , slacker extraordinaire , coven-less witch -- what does he know about ambition ?? what’s a future to a boy who’s never once considered it ??
his eyes are on the other witch , watching her carefully . reading her . and because he truly doesn’t want her to leave , he tells her this : “ i had fun , you know ?? ” and it’s true , every word of it . because despite the guilt there was still a part of the night at the bonfire that he relished . the freedom of it . the lack of direction . there was simplicity in the chaos .
