Re: Log: Griffin & Mars
He wasn't quite a bookworm, but the universes that books opened up to him were attractive. It was an escape from his thoughts, from a world that he couldn't quite seem to understand some days, and in particular, a world that he didn't feel completely part of. So he read, anything he could get his hands on, from fiction to non-fiction, though he had a preference for supernatural topics, if you pressed him on it.
Time passed, and he read, patient and quiet beside Mars' bed. She'd wake when she was ready, and it wasn't that he was waiting on her or anything. It was just more comfortable in here than in the living room where he slept. Despite the turbulence of their initial meeting, she was now a familiar point in his world, one that he orbited and followed after.
Scarred fingers turned page after page until her voice interrupted his thoughts and journey into the book at hand. He marked his place with a yellowing bit of newspaper and turned towards her, cheek leaned against the edge of the bed. He held the book up in response to her question, then turned it over, face down, atop the bed so she could see the back if she were so interested.
I found it in the bookcase. Eat. It's getting cold.
Griffin could talk, but he didn't, not much. It was easier this way than struggling with words that wouldn't quite come out, a stutter that he hadn't been able to completely rid himself of. Sign language was easier, more reliable, fingers and hands better at holding a conversation than lips and tongue.