Re: Webster's: Holly & Elijah
That was the thing. Not many people looked like they would spring at you. The slow ones, in particular. But fear wasn't biddable. Often told himself things to think, didn't often listen. But the boy stayed behind the counter and inscrutable. Harder to read, harder to imagine about. Could layer on things about a person from what they said and how they said it, how they stood, what they did. Lot of imagining going spare, and Elijah worked with his hands, not his mind. Holiday.
"But not Billy," said then, reasonably. "You probably answer that a lot. Why not Billy?" Another quicksilver-darting smile, there and gone. Wasn't shy precisely, the way people were hesitant, the way they blushed. Wouldn't call himself shy but wasn't practiced with people. And odd. Can't forget odd. People don't forget odd, when they meet it. "Forget the question. Useless question."
He flicked through records, past blues and jazz and into instrumental. Liked music with words, music without words, wasn't picky exactly. It was part of the problem, didn't know what he liked. Couldn't begin to begin. "What would you recommend?" His head up, over the boxes. Elijah didn't make conversation the way the birds did, how's your sister, I like your hair, who did your tattoo, things like that. Never had, wouldn't begin now.
"Expensive place. Someone bought all the right things." Head cocked toward the wall. "You don't look like you're in danger of slitting your throat." Sounded disconnected, sounded dangerous. Elijah's eyebrows rose. "The beard," he clarified. Could probably have cut the buzz out, if known. Only needed to hover, for a buzz. But stayed with the boxes, flicking through.