08-23-2019, 12:16 PM
She handed over her phone to pay for the gas, followed by a wry, “try not to throw this one away.” No smile punctuated the sly remark, but he probably had some understanding of her humour by now. The truck door creaked as she heaved it open to slip out, keen for the respite. A running faucet in a dingy bathroom was a poor substitute for the shower she so desperately wanted, but small comforts might as well be luxuries for the foreseeable. Perhaps the power could have aided a more thorough job, but she held on to her reserves for now, only testing the boundaries of that warm light like she was afraid she might find it barred to her. Pale eyes barely caught on her own reflection. She pulled her thoughts away from straying to another school left in ashes.
Since there was no yelling when she wandered into the shop it seemed safe to assume, with some unspoken relief, that her access to the family finances was still intact -- despite the heavy withdrawal a few days ago. Her mother’s calls remained muted, though she knew well the worry silence would instill; the frantic conversation following her departure from Moscow after the ball’s troubles would not soon be forgotten. But the fact was that the question of her safety now was a burden better left to another time. Natalie preferred not to lie.
Inside, she paused close enough for the faint scent of clean laundry to waft like fresh flowers on a grave, but did not reach out to touch Jay’s arm. How many fractures did it take to break a man? A flinch now would look strange, and she did not know whether the chemicals preventing him from channeling had yet worn off. The flat planes of his expression mirrored a darkness she associated with its use. But so too did grief.
There were probably more pleasant places they could find to stop at on route, but it wouldn’t do them any favours if Jay fainted clean at the wheel, and neither was she keen to test her own stamina through the night by taking the responsibility on her own shoulders. It wasn’t like Natalie was prudish. Sticky carpets and lewd neon lights did little to entice, though. She didn’t really want to see the state of the kitchens. Though given the state of their own appearance it was probably the best camouflage they could hope for. And they needed to eat.
“We had a shitty ride,” she said by way of explanation for the ill reception. Her demeanour softened into a role, sharpening out the edges that might cause a scene they couldn’t afford. She dusted off a small smile but had no need to feign the tiredness. “And I am starving. So I guess we’ll take that table.” It wasn’t strictly true, but she knew Jay would more easily bend to cater to her needs than his own.
Since there was no yelling when she wandered into the shop it seemed safe to assume, with some unspoken relief, that her access to the family finances was still intact -- despite the heavy withdrawal a few days ago. Her mother’s calls remained muted, though she knew well the worry silence would instill; the frantic conversation following her departure from Moscow after the ball’s troubles would not soon be forgotten. But the fact was that the question of her safety now was a burden better left to another time. Natalie preferred not to lie.
Inside, she paused close enough for the faint scent of clean laundry to waft like fresh flowers on a grave, but did not reach out to touch Jay’s arm. How many fractures did it take to break a man? A flinch now would look strange, and she did not know whether the chemicals preventing him from channeling had yet worn off. The flat planes of his expression mirrored a darkness she associated with its use. But so too did grief.
There were probably more pleasant places they could find to stop at on route, but it wouldn’t do them any favours if Jay fainted clean at the wheel, and neither was she keen to test her own stamina through the night by taking the responsibility on her own shoulders. It wasn’t like Natalie was prudish. Sticky carpets and lewd neon lights did little to entice, though. She didn’t really want to see the state of the kitchens. Though given the state of their own appearance it was probably the best camouflage they could hope for. And they needed to eat.
“We had a shitty ride,” she said by way of explanation for the ill reception. Her demeanour softened into a role, sharpening out the edges that might cause a scene they couldn’t afford. She dusted off a small smile but had no need to feign the tiredness. “And I am starving. So I guess we’ll take that table.” It wasn’t strictly true, but she knew Jay would more easily bend to cater to her needs than his own.