#crxwfish

As the wine hits him his accent slides fluidly across state lines. There’s some Boston Brahmin in it now, clipped and aristocratic.

His shirt might have been tailored, though now it hangs off his scarecrow-thin body; under the dust the silk’s still fine.

The young man swaggers like a pirate and purrs like a New York stockbroker, and he’s drunk as hell. He’s commandeered a dingy table at the back of the bar, spreading books and maps across it.

Now his voice drops, insinuating, as Ford walks too close.

Continued from here

“I know.” His words only made her chuckle.Working beneath him for years, she’d been as loyal as she could, her feelings for him strong, despite the fact that she’d never expected them to be reciprocated. That wasn’t the sort of man he was, and despite of, or maybe because of that, she’d loved him with all of her heart. Illness had gripped her, and she’d asked for him, sure that she was on her deathbed. Breaths came with great labour and though her brow was raked with sweat, she felt nothing but cold that no number of blankets could barr. “I always knew that you would not return them, but should I not beat this... I could not leave this world without knowing that I had not told you at least one time.”

“So. You’re a model.”

He’s never been great at conversation. The crowd whirls kaleidoscopic around them; Gideon steadies himself on the table.

“Is that—do you enjoy it, I mean?”

“I’m an open book, Mr. Hatcher. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

He’s got the wan look of a man accustomed to skipping meals and sleep; his eyes are sunken, his cheeks hollow, and as he leans over Ford muscles work in his flat stomach.

“I’m ashamed of nothing.”

“God, I missed the South.”

He’s cockier tonight, still dressed for the nightclub, his cheap cufflinks glistening. Tobias kicks up his polished loafers onto the free chair, popping a fried shrimp into his mouth.

“The drinks and the women, anyway.”

He’s still flushed from the stage lights, his collar unbuttoned.

Had the car not been able to stop so abruptly, it would have been Charlie who would have taken the brunt of the impact. Without even a second thought, she’d reached out to pull her boss out of the way, using her body weight to move his larger form behind her, and thus taking his place. Heart hammering in her chest and blood rushing through her ears, she’d found herself staring first at the reflection of the sky in the windshield and then just as suddenly, at Ford’s back. 

“Sir!” His name came out as a small, surprised sort of yelp as she found herself tugged behind him and out of the street, away from the shouting of the driver from the car left behind them. “Are you okay?” Finally finding her voice, albeit shaky as it was, her eyes flicked over him to make sure he wasn’t hurt, though she was positive the vehicle hadn’t touched either of them.

Now it was all about holding herself together as her own shock had worn off. He’d just about been hit, and the image of what could have been played behind her eyes like a skipping moving. “I’m sorry I grabbed you like that.”