Re: Webster's: Holly & Elijah
It wasn't interaction. At least it wasn't a purist's interpretation of interaction and connection, a chain reaction culminating in something lasting. Abhorred lasting, out of practicality. Abhorred interaction for the same reason. It was connection, raw. Based on whatever currents and undercurrents ran underneath. Friends were an anomaly when friends were the equivalent of flayed-raw nerves twitching in anticipation of expectation. Didn't do anything for him, masochism didn't. Sadism either, in case you wondered.
But the boy behind the counter was tallying and counting and Elijah was careful, careful touch-consideration of each item and object, luxuriating in the lack-of need to be aware and wary. His fingers curled against his palm, like a blind man feeling a path, or a trickster sliding through palm's twisting artistry. Didn't expect to be watched, wasn't performing. Would have the worst kind of disgust for the suggestion, Elijah saw preoccupation for what it was and took advantage of the yawning lack of people crammed in to examine the wares
But the song. The song. Elijah unhooked the headphones from around his neck. "Great isn't a word that can carry the song. Sensational is bombastic. Nostalgic doesn't make it what it is. It's like taking in air," his hands moved, sketched. "Haven't heard anything like it. Got anything else like that, different?"