#atticus.

there is something special about her. atticus can see it in her eyes. a darkness, a sadness, both of which the golden child thought he could use to his advantage. he'd been careful with her, so far. careful and kind, giving carrie a helping hand wherever she might need it. she had been through something traumatic, exhausting, unpleasant. atticus craved to know what the girl had gone through, but patience was a virture. atticus would not push her until he felt as if she needed to be pushed. he places a glass in front of her before taking a sip from his own. 'momma makes th'best lemonade. you should try some, miss carrie,' he grins at her over his cup, taking a swig and sighing with satisfaction as he licks his lips. 'if y'like it, y'can have as much's y'want,' @frightes.

             ‘ how long d’you think you and yer family are gonna stick around for, miss nancy? ’  without verbal offer, nor confirmation that she even wants it, atticus slides a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade across to her. it’s sweet and sour and stirred to perfection, just like his mama always made it. boy takes a sip of his own and gives a sigh before he speaks again.  ‘ we sure do love havin’ y’all around! y’ve really lightened up this little old town, ’  his smile is too big for his face.     @suchbllshit.