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@tenccs / cont. from x
" who said i did ? it's an astute observation. anyone could make it. " not that cathryn had much room to speak. she had her own walls, walls well earned and only a few are allowed to peak over them.
she's gotten better, at least. but sam is a whole case in fortifying walls. " have you ever thought about therapy? "
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@nogoodwtch: you see, artists are very, very delicate.
He is very, very delicate. Not that he’d ever admit it. He doesn’t even really consider himself an artist despite the art supplies that clutter a good portion of his coffee table. It’s just something he does sometimes.
He looks across to Cason from over the top of his canvas, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to look annoyed, but amusement shines through.
“Okay, David Attenborough. No need to narrate my every move.”
@nogoodwtch said: you’ve got such a pretty face.
she also has a very, very pretty face, but he can’t say that out loud. god forbid. she scares the hell out of him. he could say the wrong thing and—bam, she’s witch’d him out of existence.
“and you’re drunk.” so is he, just a bit, but the point remains; there’s no way she’s being sincere right now.
“i was, uh, gonna go smoke. a joint. wanna join me? maybe? get some air?”
what are you, a dog?
@nogoodwtch
he's grabbing his jacket, his keys, his pack of smokes and a lighter. his phone is already in his hand, a string of messages from spirit telling him to hurry up lighting up the screen.
"fuck off." he's only half-paying attention to cat. his focus is far away from here—it's at the bodega down the street where spirit is impatiently waiting for him.
sam spins around before he gets to the door, slipping on his boots. "watch hershey for me. i'll be back in twenty. thanks." and then he's gone.
@nogoodwtch said: gee, that wasn’t so tough.
it was actually incredibly difficult. refusing to look at her directly, his apology came out begrudgingly through grit teeth. making apologies is always difficult, but it’s twice as difficult when he has to apologize to someone he dislikes.
he clicks his tongue against his teeth, then jams his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“whatever.”
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@nogoodwtch sent: "Don't touch him." for ace hehehehe
he reaches for her even as she stands in front of him, his hand curves around her wrist but he does not push or pull. just touches. "cathryn, don't." the bruise blooming on the side of his face makes talking slightly harder, but he has to say it anyway. "they're from riverward." that feels obvious, not like that many people hunt him down.
"they'll kill you to get me, and i need you to look after sam." he doesn't say the if they get me, because he doesn't plan to make that easy.
‘you have more walls up than a maze.’
@nogoodwtch
she isn't wrong. his inner life is labrinthyian. there's the version of himself he shows people—angry, proud, blunt—and then there's the version of himself he keeps hidden away. the version that's just a scared, lonely kid drowning in his own self-loathing. without tearing down all the walls he's built, it's almost impossible to tell that part of him exists at all and he'd rather die than let anybody see the full picture.
"and you care why exactly?"
@nogoodwtch from X
"it was, yeah." she was cathryn, that's the only word he had that really summed it up. annoying, hot, an asshole, really strong, stubborn as hell. all true. none of them enough. "besides it's true enough." half compliments and half insults was the way they worked, it's why they worked. he could never bring himself to be truly kind, but he could sometimes try to meet her halfway.
