Re: [bookshop: ren & elijah]
The moment was fraught. Fragile-strung tension elasticated that snapped taut as the man behind the counter looked at him with determination and looked back. Books and coffee. Book in his hand, unwanted. Didn't look at the title. Didn't look at the author. Irrelevant, really, when it was reduced to parts and wholes in division. "Mysteries," Elijah's voice was a little croaky, a little certain the man was about to beat him into immeasurable pulp. Had that look, that vague sense of violence on the horizon.
"Mysteries, non-fiction." His shoulders uncurled from his ears, inched somewhere south of unnatural. Books, could talk about books. The tension furled itself back up, strands still delicately tangled up in the space between them but less malevolent. Less forbidding. Would have bolted from the store. Easily. Better that than the man, Ren, grabbing hold.
"Beans. Ground," he said now, his blue eyes unnaturally fixed on Ren's. Impolite to stare but Elijah hadn't been taught for very long and it hadn't stuck when it had been. "Beans, books. Whatever you'd choose."