Pretty. Sensitive. Words that Alejo tried not to attach to himself- they were womanly, it felt like saying ‘you are female’ to him. Being artsy and being a little softer had always meant that those terms went onto him. But after his… affair with drugs and the man, he had learned to hate the terms even more. It made him feel weak.
He frowned, listening to Sparrow and Marina, and wanting badly to speak to say something like no, she’s going nowhere but mocking was sure to follow it. Alejo felt sure that Sparrow would no sooner consider his opinion than he would consider the wind’s.
Instead he went forth, taking out a small pen light he’d found months ago to make sure he didn’t trip over anything as they looked for oranges. His ears stayed pricked up though, waiting to hear what Sparrow had to say.