Re: Bus stop: Misha & Lou
Misha, he nodded as they walked. Made sense, her trusting him, seeing as he'd just tossed a man clear 'cross a street without moving none. But the warning, he reckoned it was still well placed. "I reckon it's safe 'nough, telling me," he said, but there was doubting in his voice as he took long steps toward the stop that was now visible in the distance. "Once, I thought the best of folks as a default, but that ain't the case recent," he admitted, and sometimes it was easier to talk plain to strangers. Strangers, they wouldn't never feel responsible for unhappiness or things gone wrong, and it was nice not to worry 'bout other folks' reactions to what he said. "I ain't sure I expect folks to do wrong always, but I don't always look to them to be good."
He wasn't sure if the men crumbled broke and in their wake had learned a thing. "Sometimes, lessons just make for crankier folks. Violence, it ain't the answer, not really," said the boy, and he knew he was being a hypocrite, seeing as he'd just been violent himself. "I know that don't line up with what I just did, and it don't line up with what I just said, but that don't make it less true. Violence begets violence," he explained, but he wasn't sure what came next, what words were the right ones. "Once, I would have a whole speech planned." He didn't have anything planned out to say, not now.
He kept on walking, looking at his feet and his fingers flexing their grip on the fiddle case. "I met a man, and he kills folks who did bad things, and I reckon it fussed with my head some little bit." He looked over at her. "But you walk hand-in-hand with violence. I can tell by looking at you."