B O L T O N

she’s WEAK, weak, always has been. too SOFT, hidden beneath layers of skin hardened over the years. he’s sweet, warm, honeyed. maybe SACCHARINE, especially to someone like her. claire wonders if he sees her sour. harsh. she isn’t, it’s just–––different. they’re DIFFERENT. 

but that isn’t always bad. 

     ❛         broadway coming ‘ a-calling ’ means you have to follow me around, singing? 

tone of her voice teasing, she throws him a LOOK, side-eyed, not buying it. the manila folder in her hands SHUTS, files ignored. for now. he wins, but only because he’s cute.

    ❛        you’re BORED. 

             “WELL-------” 

            Troy has the decency to look guilty, but even then, there’s a fondness in his voice, a smile as he speaks. He’s still looking at her with those too-blue eyes, bluer than hers, eyelids drawn low, as fond as it is warm and simmer. “I do need an audience, you know. It’s broadway. Why? Did you not enjoy my heartfelt serenade? Because I’m open for critique here. And requests, if you want.”  

          He’ll grin outright, bearing even rows of pearlescent white teeth,            as he watches the manila folder in her hands close. He doesn’t bother                       to confirm her ( perfectly accurate ) presumption. 

catches his mouth before he keeps singing. it’s UNFAIR, really, the fact he’s got the kind of voice that makes stomachs flutter ( it’s not just her. she’s positive. ) ducks out of his reach before it can ESCALATE. 

           ❛            troy. i’m TRYING to work. 

she’s worked enough actually in the park to last her the week, but — extra paperwork  can’t really HURT anybody. 

             TROY GRINS against her mouth, as if he’s been waiting for it, and suppose it should have been roguish, even smug, but there’s only warmth. Recuperation. The same guileless lightheartedness sung, somehow just as resounding in the press of his lips. It’s over too soon. He’s too nice to complain.  

                 ❛          ––––––––troy. 

waiting it out isn’t working, and she’s weak. bites back a laugh because claire is NOT––––this is not. absolutely not. claire’s trying to keep her voice stern,  but mirth gathers at the seams. 

              “YOU GOT to give it up to me--- I'm screaming mercy, mercy please....” 

           claire’s just going to—wait it out, maybe. try not to grin.