Re: [Lake: "Sparrow" & Luke]
It shouldn't have mattered if some dumb girl too close to the water called him a pessimist—anyway, she wasn't wrong. Luke knew that. Still, it stung a little, deep down where he pretended he couldn't feel anything and irrational stuff like that was such a pain in the ass. Expecting really bad things kept him from being disappointed, because his entire fucking life? Was disappointment. It was pain and more pain and loss and more loss, round and round like a carousel that never stopped, never let him off. "I don't know if it's better," he shrugged, like it didn't matter. Carelessness, apathy, it was just another mask. "It saves me a lot of trouble. Makes it easier." Another shrug.
Cooing and soft sounds were for puppies. Kittens. Cute things. Not Finch, who was supposed to be scary, bulk and sharp teeth—if only he'd play the part instead of lapping up the attention. Luke sighed inwardly.
"Any not nice people who'd admit things aren't people you should be around." He sounded like he spoke from experience. "I assume everyone lies because, more often than not, they do. Assuming someone's telling the truth, that's dangerous. It's a risk," he told her. Emphatically. Which became something incredulous when she said Finch was sweet. "No, he isn't." Which was a weak argument when, you know, the dog was wagging his tail and grinning—well, if dogs could grin, his teeth were showing and his tongue was lolling in an entirely non threatening manner—in an uncharacteristic manner. Finch rarely ever took to people this well, much less a stranger.
It sent a weird sort of chill up his spine—not dread, no, but something.
He scowled when she took a step back, teensy or not. "What are you doing?" Luke ignored her assertion that he was nice. "I think what you're doing right now is stupid. Come on." He started to reach for her, stopped, and yanked his hand back to his side. "You're not going to fall."