Re: [Not-a-picnic: Nel, Lear, Daddy]
Lear could tell he wasn't being taken seriously. Sometimes, such undervaluing made him want to strike, an angry snake lashing out, spitting venom. Other times, it suited him to be dismissed. People paid no attention to the things they thought beneath them and it was an easy way to get behind them and position yourself to stab them in the back. Leslie, the fop, was doing it now. From the draw of the man's green gaze, to the way he only replied to what Nel was saying, Lear could tell Daddy over there thought he, Lear, was nothing but words, nothing but something to be teased and played with. But, it should've been obvious to anyone that Lear was a predator and to discount him was something you did at your own risk. He might let Nel pet him, but let anyone else try and see what happened.
Lear yawned a little as Daddy rounded the tree as a woman. Cold in the winds that cut through the bare trees, he stayed close to Nel. But, his gaze followed Leslie loosely. He looked her over. Nel was telling Leslie to talk to Thor, to Derek, and Lear pressed the nipped tip of his nose to his sister's throat. Her fingers moved through his hair. Closed eyes opened when she spoke to him. He pulled his head back a little, lifting his chin, to offer the obvious up-and-down of bruise-blue eyes. She wasn't hideous, but it's not like she was appealing to him. He didn't mind that she looked slightly crazy, though. At least it was interesting. He shrugged a little. "I'd fuck her. But, I have low standards." Or no standards. "I'd have more fun with the man."
He stretched and stepped away from his sister. His shoes crunched on long-dead leaves, on the still-burning end of his cigarette in the dirt. "I'm ready to go," he informed his sister, with another lazy flick of his eyes to Leslie. "Next time," he told the dark-haired woman, "fucking pick somewhere better."