Re: Bus stop: Misha & Lou
Lou's memory of religion boiled down to the aftermath of a church on Sunday, her grandmother's hand on her shoulder like a warning or a brand. She didn't gabble with the coffee-clutchers after, she'd punched one too many of their sons and that put backs up in Sunday best. She figured the kid had something under the skin. In the blood or in the soul or some other kind of banked up power that would make Lou's head hurt to suss out.
She looked directly at the man who was still moaning about his balls, and met the kid's gaze dead on. Lou didn't bother with subtle. She wasn't, she was still faintly bristling, the muscle of her shoulders locked and her weight over her knees, over her toes. "You're right this one's a wash." The kid picked up his case, calm as you please and began walking like it was a summer night full of nothing but warm, heavy air.
"Wolf," Lou said bluntly, soon as they were out of earshot. Subterfuge wasn't Lou's style. Not when the kid had seen her move faster than plain human could. "Maybe it doesn't matter to you. But yeah. I'll answer the question." The kid shook his head as if it were all as simple as one thing or another, and Lou shrugged.
"Neat trick. Tossing him across the side of the street. Less up and personal."