#askboxfillers

13: hand kiss

"Everyone says you're like a prince, that's a real heavy title." Floyd cocked his head to the side as he stared at The Motorcycle Boy, watching him and not being able to help the smile that split across his lips. He was just a man, a smart one, but nothing like the god everyone thought he was. The officer just couldn't resist poking a little fun at the mythology of the man.

"I should be treating you like royalty."

Taking The Motorcycle Boy's hand and forcing himself to stifle a laugh, Floyd bowed, placing a gentle kiss to the man's knuckle like a valiant knight to some fair maiden in the pages of a fairy tale.

15: last kiss

His hands ran over his uniform again, straightening out the fabric the best he  could, his eyes slowly turning from the gleaming buttons of his shirt and back to the girl before him. Floyd flashed a smile that was all teeth, something inside him flickering like a light behind his eyes, making him resemble a freshly lit lamp. Today was a day that'd be filled with adventure, danger, and most importantly it was something he needed to do, even if it was born out of a tragedy he was unsure he'd ever recover from. He was glad that whatever was to come had started out with Sophie. Jamming his hands in his pockets, his grin expanded, and he felt grief pour out of him like he was a water balloon pricked with a needle.

"I'll see you later, duty calls." Laughter slipped under his breath, and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the girl's cheek before stepping away and turning on his heel. It was simple, but for some reason it meant more than most to him, and he couldn't believe a day like this had started out so good.

A dry laugh escaped his lips, and he nodded, not really expecting Dallas to have anything else to say to him. A tight empty smile on his lips, he clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder, the gesture a horrible attempt at comfort.

"I'd hate me too, if I was you." Floyd had unloaded a hand full of bullets in the blonde's chest, he could never forget that nor how the kid's body had crumpled as easily as a paper doll underneath the artificial light from a flickering street lamp. He didn't deserve to be forgiven for that, especially when the gun Dallas had in hand that night wasn't even loaded.

Floyd cringed, the three words filling him like rotten milk. He didn't know why it bothered him, he barely knew the guy, but for one reason are another it simply made it sting more. Only for a moment did he allow his true emotions to bleed through his skin, hurt in his eyes disappearing just as easily as it had came. 

He grew serious, stern, and he pointed one finger directly at the other gentleman in an attempt to make his point get through his skull.

"I don't like you much either man, but you oughta' keep your punk ass out of trouble."

If being nice didn't help his point get across, he'd have to be a jerk. It didn't matter if these kids liked him anyways, as long as they all stayed alive he could get over it. Maybe if he acted like a man, an asshole, more often his point would get across.