David Trask (Reynolds) (thrushbeak) wrote in marchenlogs, @ 2012-01-17 17:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | thrushbeard, wicked stepsister |
WHO: David and Lily
WHERE: Just outside of Marchen, by the entrance
WHEN: Today?
WHAT: A smoke break
RATING: G (surprisingly)
DAVID :: The air was chilly and David watched wispy white air billow from his lips with a particularly warm sigh. Hands in his pockets, coat turned up to beat the chill, he wanted little more than to go back to bed and sleep in beneath warm blankets. Still, he couldn’t complain. The pay was terrible, though he wasn’t in it for the money. And the winter weather didn’t help, though at least there was an awning over the entrance he could stand under. The hours weren’t particularly good and the position low on the grand totem of life but it did offer one perk: he could watch the comings and goings of the tenants. One tenant in particular.
Lily Sinclair had been the reason he came to Boston. After their unfortunate first meeting, and years of letting that wound bleed, he decided to finally to change things. He left his house, his cushy job, his friends, and traveled halfway across the country to teach her a lesson. The details were still being worked out but he knew that he needed to know more about her than what a google search would give him. A tiny paycheck in the middle of unfortunate weather wouldn’t deter him.
Speaking of the devil, he caught a familiar figure coming down the lobby and towards the glass doors he stood in front of. Like always, his white gloved hand reached for the handle and pulled it open in time for her to walk through the opening, no break in her stride. And as usual, he gave her his smile, a notch above familiar and much warmer than the cold outside. After all, he wasn’t a stranger. This wasn’t the first time she’d taken her smoke break in his company.
LILY :: Lily had been home for about thirty minutes, clearing the remains of a wall from her apartment, when the gnawing need for nicotine began to chew at her. It started as a niggling need before quickly growing into something consuming and demanding, and she set aside her garbage bag. Tromping into her room, she pulled on a pair of tennis shoes and grabbed her hoodie. Tucking her cigarettes into the pocket of her pants, she left her apartment and made her way to the elevator.
Halfway down, her fingers started twitching toward her pocket. All her self-control went toward keeping her fingers out of that pocket. But she needed to feel the smooth paper wrapping the cigarette as much as she needed to drag the smoke into her lungs. The all-consuming urge to have the bitter taste on her tongue ran rampant within her, as insistent as her body’s demands for nicotine.
She nearly bolted out of the elevator door. Her steps toward the front door were quicker than her usual stride, unbroken as David caught the door for her. “Hey, doorboy,” she said, giving him a short grin as she pulled her cigarettes from her pocket, fumbling them a bit as the cold cut through her fingers. She tugged her sleeves further down her arms, curling her fingers around the hem as she pulled out a cigarette and tucked the box back into her pockets.
Popping the cigarette in her mouth, she fumbled about for her lighter. And realized she did not have it. Groaning, she swung toward the door. “Forgot my lighter,” she said, resisting the urge to bite down on the cigarette and start chewing.
DAVID :: The eyeroll wasn’t suppressed, if only because he knew her too well and knew she would be too distracted in her search for cigarettes to look him in the face. “You know one day I’m going to come up with a bad nickname of my own for you.” He had a choice few already but as bad as they were, they weren’t catchy like hers. Hard to be quippy when you were calling someone at least five colorful names in a row, the last and least profane being life ruiner.
He looked at her for a quick moment, steeling himself for whatever cutting remark she would give him but instead she was without one, and without a lighter. His hand slipped back into his pocket to feel around for the object he had left in there weeks ago when he realized she often came down there to smoke. His fingers closed around the plastic lighter but he hesitated, wondering if he should, this time, be nice.
Being nice was his nature, even to her, and a moment later he flipped it out and flipped it on, the bright orange flame flickering at his hand. “Here. And let it never be said I don’t do anything for ya.”
LILY :: She heard the quiet chink of the lighter before she saw it, turning with slightly widening eyes. He was a savior. A godsend. Something spectacular and wonderful wrapped up in a plain face, chunky body, and empty wallet. What a shame.
Cigarette in her mouth, bracing it with two fingers, she leaned forward and let it catch fire. The sickly sweet smell from the cigarette reached her nose a second later, and she inhaled sharply, relishing the flavor and the taste and the smooth slip of paper between her lips. Drawing back, she exhaled through her nose, flicking a bit of ash off the end. “Thanks.” One brow lifted. “You decry smoking enough. What’ve you got a lighter for?” A wicked smile turned up her lips. “Are you a doorboy and a boy scout?” She held up two fingers. “Always prepared?”
DAVID :: “You say it like it’s a bad thing.” He flashed her a bright grin, not denying nor confirming, though really the answer was clear. He wasn’t a smoker, it wasn’t his vice, but it was hers. It was a simple thing to slip it into his coat pocket for a day like this one. A day he would be there, like she always, inevitably was, with something she would need. And he could provide.
“Nice hustle back there,” he laughed softly, a quick nod to the lobby indicating her mad rush for the door. “Work really getting you down, eh?”
LILY :: Puffing on her cigarette, she sagged against the cold stone wall of the building. It pushed through the thick fabric of her hoodie, crawling into her skin to chill her, but the warmth of the cigarette between her fingers, the curl of the smoke in her lungs, kept her warm. “Could’ve been worse,” she said with a shrug.
Leaning to the side, she tipped her head back and exhaled two rings of smoke, watching them float over her head and then dissipate. “But not much. I’d say you know how it is, but you just stand here all day holding doors for people. It’s not that taxing.”
DAVID :: It always could’ve been worse with Lily but he counted his blessing and kept quiet. They were being a little better than civil today. He’d take that for what it was worth. Or at least he would have until she started in again about his job. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head softly while his hands stayed in his pockets.
“Not taxing and pays the bills. Whereas yours apparently leads you to an early grave.” He nodded to that cigarette she held between her fingers, watched her white breath and the grey smoke mingle in the space between them. “Fair toss up, I’d say.”
LILY :: “It’s stress relieving.” She turned up her nose at him, slumping against the wall once again (and really she ought not to have, it was cold). Running her tongue around the filtered end of the cigarette, she eyed him. Wrapped up in his coat, complete with gloves, he looked downright cozy. It wasn’t that Lily didn’t have a coat (she did) or that she disliked wearing it (she loved it), but rather that she hated the smell of smoke (more than a little). Which was why she smoked outside, away from her apartment. The smell might cling a bit to her clothes, but she always washed them immediately after.
She might smoke a pack a day, but it wasn’t at work, and it wasn’t in her apartment. Outside, on the curb, the doorboy at her side. She had standards.
“Come here,” she demanded, gesturing him closer with one hand. “It’s cold and I don’t have a coat. Be a little more useful than just opening the door.”
DAVID :: “A shieldboy, hm?” He sounded more than mildly entertained at the notion but stepped closer. The air moved softly, more chill than an actual wind, but standing against it did help block some of the wind. Standing so close, David couldn’t help but notice the height difference and if she did deign to look at him, she’d see a smug smirk cross his lips before he gave her a toothy grin. “Better?”
LILY :: Hardly better, but she supposed it was a start. “Not really,” she said anyway, debating whether or not to shuffle closer. It was fun to tease the doorboy (and oh so easy). A look here, a smile there. She didn’t mean to (a lie), but there was something thrilling about leading him just enough to think she might be interested (his wallet wasn’t deep enough) and then firmly friendzoning him. Cruel, yes. But oh so amusing. “It’ll do, though.”
She sucked down the rest of her cigarette with him at her side and moved through a second because the need clawed so hard at her. And then she was done, flicking the butt away with no care where it landed, and she patted him on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, doorboy,” she said, giving him a jaunty wave and puffing warm air at his face.