Re: Webster's: Holly & Elijah
It wasn't useless if everyone else had thrown out curiosity with the warm weather. Elijah's interest was a flicker in blue eyes, the crease of his mouth against his cheek darting. No one? Probably not polite. Didn't see anything wrong in the question, it was just a name. Knew why 'Elijah'. Perhaps it was personal. The boy echoed, and Elijah didn't know any different. This world, that world. Same world to him, passed him by.
Expected the question to follow the question. It was like rote, a pattern that was learned. It began that way every time starting over, new owner willing, able to learn. Elijah's smile was an iota more relaxed: knew the script here. Knew the script to the grocery store and the book store and the coffee place. Didn't bother with liquor store, didn't drink. "Modern classical, cello, piano, violin. Don't mind jazz. Like Glenn Miller," he scratched the slope of his jaw, rasping beard against his fingers. Surprised him, how long it was. Shouldn't, it had been a while.
"Don't have much in the way of taste. Like to get out of the comfort zone," which might have surprised any man stood opposite Elijah and the smile was self-aware and wry-twisted behind the beard.
"Can't say that," throat safe, "You do open your store late." Again, wry.