Despite the drag of the late hours in my ghost town booth, by the third day of work even I could begrudgingly admit just how gorgeous the carnival looked as the lights began to flicker on in time with the setting sun.
The job had been set; pickup then distribution just as always.
Waiting by the metal shuttered window of the Quick-Shot Clown Pop, the darkness clung to me like a second skin. Across the way was all warm and glowing lights, bright neon with old-fashioned carnival music drifting through the night air. It seemed miles away; the only light emitted from my shadowy corner was an ember-tip that flared with every inhalation.
I watched Lou holding Birdie's hands on the buttons of The Switchback control panel, her mouth open in laughter as her puppeteer used them to operate the ride. Something about the sight ached, some kind of gloriously sweet sadness about the two of them melting honey-gold into the brightness of the fairground. Lou with calloused knuckles and a knife in his back pocket, Birdie with clover flowers tucked behind each ear.
My thoughts drifted, gaze wandering to the blur of the full moon behind it's veil of clouds. A night for doing bad deeds.
"You don't have to come with me, Slo," Lou had murmured two days ago when the call had come. His face was soft but jaw was set, and it was his Brave Face as I'd ever known it; shit-scared but unable to give in to it all.
Faced with that kind of courage, I'd follow him into any fray.
"Of course I'm coming," I'd said, grinning despite the cold claw of fear that hooked itself to my skin, "Just try and stop me."
It was harder to be brave now, about to head off into town to meet DeWitt's local contacts for the drop with no true clue of what we were walking into except that it'd be another deal with the devil; and there was still hell to pay.
The last ride of the night was announced, tickets eagerly pressed into the hands of the boy who collected them distractedly. Making my way over, I tried not to watch him as he shuffled them between his hands, the edge of a pink tongue poking from his mouth.
All passengers securely strapped in, 2D closed the gate with a clang. My breath hitched slightly as he tugged off his already unbuttoned uniform shirt to reveal the tight fitting white t shirt beneath, tucked greaser-style into black drainpipe jeans.
"Well, I'm awf," he announced, tossing the neat stack of tickets stubs into the waiting bin before stalking towards the fairground entrance. As our paths crossed, the blue-haired boy offered me a nonchalant nod before his long-legged stride carried him from view.
Trying not to pay attention to the twinge of disappointment I felt at his curt acknowledgment, I turned instead to wave up at Birdie from where she was now standing on the railing, arms whirling like the conductor of an orchestra as she traced the motion of the ride compartments. She smiled dreamily in response to my greeting before her attentions flicked back to The Switchback, locks of red hair floating about her face.
Lou stood like the proud captain of a ship, breaking in and out of concentration as he simultaneously watched the girl he loved whilst bringing the carriages to their final slow safe stop.
"Thank you ladies and laddies, you've been a wonderful audience," Lou purred into the desk microphone, a hammed up Scottish Elvis Presley.
The three of us waited for the cattle-like line of people to disembark the rattling metal stairs before Lou flicked the power-switch to the ride, plunging our sanctuary of twinkling lights into gloom. The chain clanked and scraped as he locked it around the gate. In the darkness his eyes still seemed to shine as he turned to me, his smile a flash of teeth before he spoke.
"Let's go."
Our small company walked stiffly through the slowly darkening fair, checking pockets for flick knives, cash and cards. Lou checked and rechecked the burn phone with the texted details. Birdie pulled the flowers from her hair, fingers lost in the wavy lengths as she fixed it back in a braid. I chain-smoked until my head began to spin, then lit matches while we waited for the bus into the town proper.
I'd gone through three matchbooks by the time it finally rumbled into view.
"Lou, I have every bad feeling about tonight," Birdie murmured into my brothers ear once we were seated at the back of the bus. Her wide brown eyes flicked between us both, face paper white under the fluorescents.
"Hey now, DeWitt doesn't do dealings with wildcards," Lou assured her, kissing the girl above each eyebrow before drawing back to meet her worried gaze, "If he's sent us to meet these guys then it's all good."
They continued to talk in whispers for the rest of the bus ride, but I tuned them out, instead focusing my attention on the view of Eastbourne that flashed past the window. We were walking into this on the assumption of whether or not a drug-lord still felt he owed our mother a debt. Despite wanting to trust Lou when he said it'd all be fine, a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that Birdie was right.
Although it would have been a gruellingly long walk, it was still only a short ride to the McDonalds at the centre of town. Lou kissed Birdie goodbye, cupping her delicate face in one of his hands before motioning for me to follow him as he stood, pulling the cord to signal he wanted to disembark. I tried not to fall over as the bus rolled to a stop, hot on my brother's heels as he strode down the aisle and jumped out onto the street. Turning, he mock-bowed to the bus driver before marching off across the shadowy McDonalds carpark, lit by a single streetlamp.
"We're to wait here under the lamp so they can check it's us before approaching, then we go 'round back for business," Lou instructed, despite having outlined the plan to me several times previously. He was nervous, I could tell, and his nerves only managed to feed the growing fear that ate away at the lining of my stomach.
"Lou, do you think it's safe to do this deal?" I whispered, looking across the dark parking lot with growing trepidation, "I mean last time..." I trailed off when his mouth twisted in discomfort as I brought up last week's events, the light directly above us catching silvery in the eyelashes of his downcast gaze.
For what seemed a long time we stood like that, with only the sounds of the nearby traffic and the scraping of the night wind pulling dried winter leaves across the concrete. I watched the comings and goings of the McDonalds itself through the brightly lit windows, scanning for the possible DeWitt contacts. Lou watched the road, grey eyes flicking to follow the cars as they flashed past. It was the most normal thing I felt we had done in days; this tag-team surveillance before a deal. Despite how strange I knew the feeling was, I couldn't help but feel in my element as I noted a trio of teenage boys exiting the fast food outlet, arms laden with grease-spotted paper bags, quickly sketching them in my mind before storing the image away. Their beaten up sedan backfired as they revved it hard to pull out of the carpark, causing me to jump back in fright.
"You should've brought your daft duck along to cuddle so ya didn't get scared," Lou teased, sounding decidedly more chipper now that I had supplied him with a distraction from the impending deal.
"It's Daffy Duck ya doaty bastard," I huffed in response, rolling my eyes at his gloating expression as I fell for the bait. The boy had been teasing me repeatedly about the plush toy ever since our first day, despite the fact he seemed to like it even more than I did; using it to act out scenes from his day to birdie and I, as well as leaving it in strange locations for me to find, the latest of which had been sitting on the caravan toilet with an open magazine balanced on it's gangly orange legs.
"Aye, but it just looks so daft with that big open mouth an' empty eyes," Lou explained, before adding in a snigger, "Looks a bit like that dopey radge they got me workin with."
I instinctively opened my mouth to snap a fierce reply in 2D's defence before I managed to stop myself, clamping it back closed with a wince. Lou smirked in response, knowing he was close to getting a reaction. Lowering his voice, he tried again for the punchline.
"Hey Slo, do you reckon that's what the two D's are that he's named after?" he asked, eyes wide and feigning innocence. I cocked my head, confused by the sudden question.
"Huh? The two D's?" I queried, genuinely unsure as to what he was getting at. Lou grinned catlike as he responded.
"Yeah, 2D. The two D's being for Daft Duck."
Unable to help it, a giggle escaped me, followed by an expletive aimed towards the self-satisfied boy. I was about to complain loudly about his abuse towards our blue-haired fellow employee when someone cleared their throat to our left. We both turned in unison, Lou's hand flying to his back pocket where his flick knife was tucked away whilst I shifted my weight to the right, ready to run at a moment's notice.
Two young men stood side by side just a couple of meters from us, bodies slouching and casual. The taller of the pair sported an entirely buzzed head similar to Lou, but with carefully faded edges that signalled it had been professionally done. His nose was ever so crooked along the wide bridge, eyebrows thick and unruly over hooded eyes that sized us up from afar. The shorter man was blonde and slightly chubby, as if he hadn't quite yet lost his baby fat, large ham-hock arms crossed over his chest. Unlike his dark-skinned companion this man was ruddy pink in comparison, rather like raw chicken.
"Tch tch, a bit jumpy I see," the taller man jeered, before he jutted his chin towards Lou, "You the McLeod kid?"
I could feel Lou bristle beside me from the age jibe, but he only smiled charmingly as he asked, "Who'd like to know?"
His response caused the blonde meaty man to unfurl is arms and step threateningly closer, but the taller man put a hand out to stop him, his teeth hyper-white in the deep tan of his face as he laughed.
"DeWitt said you had a mouth on you," the tall man said, nodding as if confirming something with his partner, "Let's get off the street front."
The two turned and walked leisurely into the darkness, clearly expecting us to follow. My heart squeezed as I turned my head to look wild-eyed at Lou, only to find he had already begun to follow them. He caught my trembling hand in his own as he passed me, using the pad of his thumb to beat out a rhythm against my knuckles before releasing it as he moved out of reach. The limb swung limply back to my side, and it was only my fear for Lou that inspired my body to move itself from that pool of light and into the darkness that awaited me.
Despite the seemingly casual pace they walked at, the three men's legs were much longer than mine and they quickly left me as a straggler trying surreptitiously to catch up. Opting for a not-quite power walk, I trailed the group across the car park and towards the restaurant building, scanning the area as I did.
That had always been my assigned job on previous deals; sentry duty while Lou paid attention to the business. It had gotten us out of plenty of close calls in the past, times when a client had thought we'd be easy to roll if they brought in a friend to take us from behind, or police had been patrolling nearby. However this felt different, more rushed with less confidence. My heart was beating too fast to concentrate properly, last week's memory of the sirens and the yelling men bursting into my consciousness and leaving me gasping for air. There'd be blue and red lights everywhere and I'd be sprinting from them and screaming for Lou and we'd have to run and run and run all night with the sirens in the background and the world disappearing out from under us.
Calm down, breathe. Just breathe.
Inhaling deeply, I reached into my pocket for my packet of fags as I rounded the corner of the building. Rummaging to remove one from the packet, I glanced down momentarily towards the inhibiting folds of red nylon.
The distraction was a mistake. I knew this even as I came around the corner, before I looked back up to see Lou pinned to the wall by the tall man, knife to his throat and mouth covered with a hand. My brothers eyes were blown wide, his warning cry muffled as I was grabbed roughly from the side, neck cracking with the whiplash as the tall man's hoggish companion slammed me to the rusted dumpster at the other side of the back alley. With my head almost hanging backwards over the dented rim, the putrid reek of rotting food coiled up to my nostrils and I tried not to gag against the large thick fingers tightening around my throat. Kicking out savagely I caught my attacker in the groin and shin, causing him to grunt in pain and drop me momentarily. Even as I turned to run he snatched me back by the collar of my jacket, slamming me back against the dumpster with a sadistic sneer.
"Try somefin' loik that again, and we slit yah bruvva's throat. Understand?" The man hissed, jerking his head towards where his companion held Lou to the wall. I could see the glint of the blade at his throat collecting the dim moonlight, the indent of where the blade kissed the skin not yet hard enough to split it. My heart hammering in my chest, I nodded slowly, carefully arranging my expression into one of blank calm.
"We didn't get to formally introduce ourselves before," the taller of the pair announced, still smiling charmingly as if he didn't have someone at knifepoint, "I'm Rem, and my associate over here is Sticks."
Lou said something muffled from beneath Rem's hand, and the man who held him captive removed his palm so that he could repeat it.
"What the fuck kind of a name is 'Sticks'?"
The thug in question whipped his head around to glare at my brother, face twisting up in irritation. Lou grinned even as the blade at his throat dug in harder. Little beads of blood begun to seep along the silver edge, starkly crimson in the low light.
"It's loik fucken Sticks an stones will break yah bones," Sticks explained aggressively, to which Lou only laughed.
".... but words will never hurt me? Jesus wept, did ya come up with that one on the bus to school?" He snickered, before the sight of Sticks's meaty hand tightening around my neck cut his laugh dead, "The fuck you radge cunts want?"
Rem forcefully shoved his hand back over Lou's mouth at the sound of his raised voice, reasserting control.
"You really are the Motormouth McLeod we've heard so much about," he jeered, before glancing at me and adding, "Which would make you the infamous Mute McLeod."
I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes, meeting his gaze flatly until the man looked away. Lou said something muffled in response which I was certain could only have brought us further reprimand, and I silently thanked the universe that Rem had his hand over the snarky boy's mouth.
"Now, DeWitt told us to meet you two here for a supply drop off tonight, which you're gonna distribute throughout the West and South sides of Eastbourne, got it?" Rem continued, keeping his eyes trained on Lou whilst Sticks watched me, his face close enough for me to feel each hot puff of his fetid breath against my cheeks.
"Mistah DeWitt also tol' us that yew two made some trubble for 'im back in Brighton," Sticks sniggered, smirking as he let his gaze slither down my body, while I could only clench my jaw in revulsion.
"Yes, DeWitt told us we had to make sure you'd learned your lesson," Rem agreed, "So that there'll be no more mistakes this time."
"Last chance 'e said," Sticks added, smiling wide with yellowed tombstone teeth. I tried not to gag at the sight.
"DeWitt said we weren't to rough you up too bad, Motormouth," Rem explained cordially, before his eyes went icy cold as he finished, "But he said we could do what we like to your sister over there."
My stomach dropped sickeningly, gaze flicking to Lou's face even as his widening eyes met mine. Grey on grey, both full of fear until I closed my eyes against the image. I breathed deeply through my nose, collecting myself once more.
Do not show them you're afraid. Lou is gonna get you out of this, just like always. Stay calm.
It was easier said than done, my heart jolting forwards as Sticks lifted a blade to my face. It looked like a hunting knife, with nasty ridges along the glinting edge of it, and it took everything in my power to keep from whimpering as he laid the flat of it in a cold line from my left eyebrow to the corner of my mouth. Lou bellowed something indecipherable from beneath Rem's forceful palm, struggling against the other man in an effort to intervene.
"Do ya fink she'll be as pwetty once I carve mah name into 'er face?" Sticks asked, turning to grin sadistically at Lou, "Won't be as funny then will it bruv?"
Lou jerked in Rem's grip, heedlessly pushing forward even as the knife cut deeper against his vulnerable Adam's Apple.
"No! Lou!" I cried out, my voice pitching into almost a shriek as I whipped a halting hand out towards him, as if I could somehow push him back from the blade. All three men jolted in surprise at my violent outburst, Lou shooting me a questioning look whilst the other two were distracted. I gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and he sunk defeated back against the bricks.
"Well fancy that, Mute McLeod can speak!" Rem sneered, recovering quickly. His hand that had once muzzled Lou was now restraining the restless boy lest he try to struggle again, which my brother was quick to take advantage of.
"Please, just let her go. It was my fault, it was me who dealt to the undercover cop, not her," Lou pleaded, all trace of the usual airy sarcasm gone from his voice. I almost flinched at the desperation, but I couldn't let myself show even a flicker of weakness. My mouth was dry with terror as Sticks laughed nasally at my brother's begging, pressing the blade harder against my face. I could feel the skin beginning to split under the force, but refused to even so much as wince.
I had to be brave now, if only to keep Lou from killing himself to try and save me. My entire life thus far the boy had always managed to keep me from harm, always been able to talk or fight his way out of a situation gone southward. Together we'd run along walls and leap into back gardens, him lifting me over to the other side first, always first, so that he always remained as a human shield between the world and me. He knew no fear if it meant protecting me from harm, and it was because of this that I had no idea how to be as brave as I needed to be right now.
Just be Lou then.
"Don't worry about it Lou, this radge cunt isn't carving his name into my face," I announced breezily, gaining a look of alarm from my brother and indignant rage from the man who held me by the throat.
"An' why's that?" Sticks spat, face looming closer as his narrowing eyes bore into mine.
"Because it's unlikely you can even spell it," I cooed, giving him my best Lou McLeod shit-eating grin before my fist flew up to punch the wrist of his knife-holding hand, jerking it from my face even as I lunged forward with the crown of my skull to headbutt the man straight in his beaky nose.
Crunch.
The back alley exploded into sudden furious motion as Sticks reeled back shrieking, Rem turning his head too late to see the cause of the shrill noise as I fell forward with the momentum and barrelled my entire body into the vulnerable backs of his knees. Long legs giving way, Rem fell backwards into me with a loud grunt as the tendons in his knee joints instinctively retracted from the blow. Lou yelped in surprise as the falling thug's legs were slammed into him, but the knife was clear from his throat and that was all that mattered.
Jostling free of the tangle of Rem's thrashing limbs I screamed as loudly as I could to the stunned boy standing above us.
"NOW RUN LOU!"
Breaking from his frozen state he grabbed my outstretched hand, whipping me to my feet even as he began to sprint towards the car park. Sticks lunged for us, his nose a mess of blood and shattered cartilage, but we dodged his grasping hands with the agility of fleeing rabbits.
The soles of my trainers slapped hard at the asphalt of the parking lot as I propelled myself towards the road, hearing the thudding footfalls of Sticks hot on my heels. I began to take sharp shallow breaths, extending the length of my strides so that I was almost gliding as I began to leave him behind. Somewhere to my left Lou raced beside me, keeping pace as we launched from the hedged boundary of the car park and onto the road that waited beyond. Lungs burning, ready to burst and all too empty at the same time, the blood roaring in my ears as the flash of a car entered my peripheral.
"SLOANE!" Lou bellowed but I had already thrown any time to hesitate to the winds that whipped from my jet stream as I sprinted in front of the oncoming car, hearing first Sticks swear venomously as it cut him off then the sound of squealing brakes. I was gonna make it I was gonna come out clear - Thud.
Pain reverberated up my body as the very edge of the right-side headlight collided with my hip, sending me flying to the ground in a dizzying twirl. Loose gravel at the edge of the pedestrian island that sat at the centre of the road crunched beneath me as I landed, raking grazes up my arms and tearing holes in the knees of my jeans. I came to a rolling stop at the raised concrete platform meant for safe crossing, ears ringing as I dazedly tried to push myself up.
The car that had nicked me had pulled to a complete stop just ahead, the driver's side door swinging open even as I queasily registered the unmistakable checkering decal along its bumper that signalled exactly who I'd just been hit by.
"Hold still ma'm," the police officer was advising, walking towards me with his palms out placatingly. The two boys stood stock still at the side of the road like deer in headlights. For a moment everything seemed to be moving slow through molasses.
The passenger door of the police car swung open. Sticks bolted, the second police officer yelling out "halt!" to no avail as Lou sprinted in the opposite direction, face bleached white in genuine terror. The cop who had been carefully approaching me jerked his head towards the commotion, and I used the opportunity to launch to my feet, breaking into a clumsy run as my bruised hip protested.
Not again, not again, not again -
I heard the man yell out behind me but I was already launching myself down the row of stores on the opposite side of the road, turning to leg it down the side road and over a chainlink fence into the locked down delivery bay of what appeared to be a green grocer. Sirens blared in the distance, and not knowing whether they'd decide to pursue me, Lou or Sticks, I decided the best option was to vacate the area immediately regardless.
Ahead was a stack of empty wooden pallets, clumsily piled at the edge of the compound after they'd been relieved of their produce. Wincing at the ache in my leg I climbed them like rickety stairs, swinging my legs over the mesh fence and then dropping gracelessly down to the other side. Pain shot up the right hand side of my body as I landed hard, jarring the already tender joints.
I was in a back alley that ran from the dead end I now stood in to another road several properties ahead. Unsure if I could handle any more fence jumping in my current state, I opted instead to power walk down the dimly lit lane and hope I wouldn't find two pissed off police officers at the other end.
Setting off at a fast limping pace, I unzipped my adidas windbreaker and slipped it off in an attempt to disguise myself slightly, before realising with a sinking feeling that I still wore my Tusspot Fairgrounds employee shirt underneath. That'd be a great move, advertising to law enforcement where the fleeing suspects worked. With a frustrated sigh I turned the jacket inside out to expose the white interior before slipping it back on, hoping it would do.
As the brightly lit end of the laneway drew near I began to walk in a half crouch, stopping at the corner of a garage to peep out into the street beyond.
Unexpectedly, people walked to and fro along the pavement on either side of the road, coming out of, entering, and loitering to smoke outside the several bars on the street. Across the two lanes of light traffic, I could see a bus shelter shining like a candlelit sanctuary twenty meters down the road.
Maybe there truly is a god.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I looked both ways this time before lightly jogging across the road. Trying my best to look like I wasn't limping, I casually made my way over to the bus stop before sinking gratefully down onto the cold metal bench seat.
"Please let the bus come soon," I murmured out loud in my best attempt at a prayer, deciding to test out my possible God existence theory. Drawing up my sore legs to my chest, I hugged them to me as I waited.
"Well lewk who it is!" Came a familiar warbling voice, and I decided very firmly that definitely there was no such thing as jesus or his dad granting me good luck because I was sitting with a bruised neck and hip in the foetal position on a bus shelter seat while wearing and inside out windbreaker, and 2D was standing in front of me.
His hair was pushed back and perfectly rolled like a cast-member of the film Grease, save for one stubborn blue lock that trailed onto his forehead. Black eyes half lidded from intoxication, he looked me up and down whilst grinning crookedly. There was a smear of lipstick at his jawline, seemingly belonging to the girl who hung tipsy off his arm, thin fingers vicelike around the narrow circumference of his bicep. I tried not to meet her gaze, knowing from the burning feeling in the side of my head that it definitely wasn't friendly.
"Who is it?" The girl sniffed, and I chose to look at her beautiful red satin high heels whilst 2D replied.
"It's Sloane all alone," he said, before realising he had accidentally rhymed and snickering to himself. Gritting my teeth at the sound of my full name, I dared to look at the girl's pixie-like face at this news; she didn't look impressed, even less so at 2D's apparently terrible sense of humour.
"... right," she responded, loosening her grip on his arm just a little.
"Why're you all alone, Sloane?" 2D asked in a slight slur, seeming not to notice his companion's falling levels of interest.
I hugged my bent legs tighter to me instead of answering, feeling incredibly ugly and small as I inspected the raw skin of my knees through the new rips in my jeans. I'd been wearing them all week, having no other trousers to wear, and they smelt of sweat. Somewhere at the back of my mind I hoped he wouldn't notice.
As I watched the blood slowly clot around the grazes in my knees, the boy sat lightly beside me, reaching out to touch my shoulder. I flinched away from the oncoming contact instinctually, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the paleness of his palm as he halted, unsure.
Unfairly relieved, I closed my eyes against the prickling sensation of almost-tears, swallowing back the lump of sentimentality swelling inside my manhandled throat.
The warmth of his hand against the sharp plane of my shoulder took me by surprise, his fingers gentle as they lightly curled around the bony joint. I waited for it to begin to prickle, for it to burn until I broke into a panicked sweat, but the sensation never came. The inner candlelight I thought I'd successfully snuffed out began to glow under his touch, and for a dizzied moment I couldn't recall the last time I'd experienced another human's touch.
It felt so lovely, tears welling behind the closed lids of my eyes as I leaned into his hand for just a moment, before pulling abruptly away.
"Sloane?" 2D asked quietly, and I blinked furiously to clear my eyes of moisture before I turned to face him. He was frowning with concern, worrying his bottom lip between his gapped teeth.
"Don't call me that," I snapped defensively, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of those heavy-lidded black eyes. He flinched at the harsh tone, and I immediately regretted being hostile. In a softer voice I explained, "Only my mum ever called me 'Sloane'. I prefer pretty much anything else."
"Awright, I get that," the boy said, nodding as his smile returned, "That's kinda like me wiv my name. What do you want me ta call you then?"
Distracted by the unaffected warmth of his grin, I felt the heat starting to rise to my cheeks as I found myself tongue-tied at his question.
"Er... Lo, uh I mean Slo," I tripped over my words, leaning back from him as if it would clear my head. It was no use; the air around him was heavily perfumed with the mixing scents of bourbon and whatever citrusy-smelling soap he used, along with a faint trace of dirty hair. Altogether it left me almost giddy, fighting against the desire to lean in close to breathe more of him in.
"Awright Low Slow, now can you tell me what's goin' on?" 2D asked, poking me in the side as I snickered at his lame attempt to make me laugh.
The bus rolled to a stop in front of us, momentarily sparing me from answering as we both leapt to our feet. The blue haired boy gaped in genuine confusion as he realised his gorgeous date in the red satin heels had left without saying goodbye at some point, looking around like he'd misplaced his keys. I stifled a laugh as he scratched his head in wonder, shuffling in a circle to look for her before climbing utterly perplexed onto the bus behind me.
I didn't have the heart to tell him he should pay more attention to his lovers lest they think he is disinterested, and so instead just patted him sarcastically twice on the back after he plonked himself down dejectedly beside me.
"I fink I'm drunk," he whispered conspiratorially into my ear, and I shivered at the feeling of his breath tickling against my skin. I turned to answer but his gaze was lowered, fixed intently on the skin of my neck. Finally he looked back up to meet my gaze, and in the fluorescent light I noticed for the first time the slightly darker circle of his pupil within the inky expanse of his eye. His mouth opened as if he were going to speak before it closed once more.
"What?" I asked, raising a brow at his prolonged silence.
"Yer neck is really bruised lewkin'," Was all he said, before he yanked at the collar of his t shirt to reveal a deep purple love bite and added sleepily, "Mine too."
I snorted at his complete misreading of the situation at hand, before his drooping head found a place to rest against my shoulder, feathery eyelashes tickling against the crook of my neck as they fluttered closed.
My breath hitched and I froze under his dozing weight, before I relaxed into a more accomodating position for him. He murmured something sleepily, lips moving against my skin.
"Hm?" I prompted, heart racing while straining to hear the words. He lifted his head ever so slightly to speak into my ear.
"I said, you smell like dirty laundry."
"Fuck you too, Stuart."
I felt the vibration through his ribcage as he snickered in response, before he fell into a drunken sleep against my shoulder, the world outside the window dark as it flashed by.