Wrong Side Of The Bed

07 | many thanks to the magnanimous twat.

My mouth twitched. I did remember that. I had stumbled into the house, my skin itching all over and and first comment that Baba said when he offered me a long, incredulous glance was — ah look, I don't know what new fashion strategy you're applying but if the mission was to look like a monkey, you have definitely succeeded. Congrats.

"You remembered," I said slowly, not knowing what to make out of it. "If I didn't know any better I would have said that you're obsessed with me."

He gave me a lazy grin. "Just keeping my friends close and my enemies closer. Nothing much."

"Nice ideology, twat. Too bad your attire isn't, though. So 1930s."

"Hm, it must seem extra nice to you because you don't frequently stumble upon ideologies just like that — do you? What was the last time you actually picked up a book? Oh wait, maybe 1930? In your past life, yes?"

I shook my head, slumping against the bookshelf behind me. "Oh no, you have insulted me! What ever shall I do? I will be emotionally and mentally scarred for years! Ah! What a pain to bear."

"You know, if this whole fashion designing thing doesn't work for you—" He commented, brushing out the hair from his eyes. "— you should try out for theater. You'll fight right in."

"What a good news, and you know this reminds me—" I murmured, training my gaze on him. "You know, yesterday I was driving by this place and it reminded me of you.."

He sat up up light straighter. "Hm?"

"Yes! I was driving by the place and I just got so overcome by the feeling that you would love that place and feel right at home there!" I said, smiling. "I took in the big bold letters at the entrance gate — which said — City Zoo — and thought of how I should drive you someday there and help you feel more at home, you know?"

He sneered at me, but by the way he swiftly turned his head around and his shoulders shook — I knew he was laughing. I sighed wistfully.

"You're a truly evil person, Walter."

"Funny that you say it," I said thoughtfully. "Because it takes one to know one."

He didn't reply with a snarky remarks like I had expected, instead just shrugged and settled more comfortably on the floor. I leaned back too, sprawling and straightening my legs in front of me, putting one foot over another at the ankles. Christian cleared his throat.

"Nice shoes."

I shrugged. "I know."

There was a pause. Then he asked the question that I was trying very very hard to dodge.

"Why did you actually come find me, Walter?"

I opened my mouth to answer but when no sound came out, I shut it back — willing my lip to dart out and wet my suddenly dry lips. I took a moment to compose myself, and thankfully Sinclair didn't interrupt, and I pulled my chapstick out of my blazer and applied it thoroughly before answering him.

"I came here to... thank you, I guess."

"For what? For showing basic humanity and standing up against a racist asshole?" He asked, playing with a loose thread of his blazer. I had the urge to slap his hand away and tell him that he was just further ruining the garment, but I restrained myself. Probably won't be a wise decision to do that, especially when he is not a friend, but my arch nemesis.