WINTER SEEMS TO GO ON FOR FOREVER. carmine - flush is an angry smear ‘cross his face ; this is right around the time, IN THE BEFORE, where he would settle with whiskey and wish for the day to end quietly, without the burning shroud of nausea, and his own voice to keep him company. BUT THIS IS THE NOW, and he finds himself near the denbrough dwelling, where bill keeps himself immersed, crouched over his silver two - wheeler. silent white - blue snow rests onto his shoulders, hunched in from the cold, unprotected pink nose and cheeks, and tips of his ears that disappear ‘neath ginger strands ( there are flickers of memories that aren’t his own, shared by his niece, and most times dan can see william through her eyes, unabashed and youthful, a stark difference to the boy that lours up at him when he catches his eye ). dan nearly slips onto the icy asphalt, fumbles and promptly inserts his foot into his mouth in less than ten seconds : ❝ working hard there or hardly working, bill? ❞
obvious polite inquiry isn’t taken lightly, deliberate casualness is only met with a sharpened stare from bill, dan feels even more out of place than his approach --- now left to rock to and fro on his boots, hesitating ‘fore he gesticulates towards bill’s handiwork. ❝ you’re, uh, doing it wrong, kid. ❞