Re: The Woods: Pesha/Tandy
Billy had very little to do with conservation. Hard-pressed, he would have insisted he didn’t ‘flit’ anywhere, but he’d take that as a compliment instead. Or a remark on his energy. Fine, whatever. He crouched down to perch on his heels and open a cupboard, grabbing a bouquet of half-dried dandelions. When he rose, he also threw a pointed look in Tandy’s direction.
“Try me, boo. You don’t think I’ve done the whole ‘you wouldn’t believe me if I told you’ spiel before?” And it was part incredulous smirk, part eye roll cast in the guy’s direction. “And I don’t normally tell strangers. Like I said, I wouldn’t have told you if it wasn’t kinda necessary. The people who know what I am, what I do — they’re either in bed with the supernatural shit already or they at least know about it.”
Billy flapped his hand in a gesture that meant, whatever, you know what I mean. He picked up his own coffee mug and took a long sip, blowing over the surface because maybe he’d been a bit overzealous with the re-heating. Then he swapped it out for the dandelions, pulling a few flowers out of the bundle and setting them up on his cutting board.
“Look, I’m not offended if you’re not buying it,” he offered, then reached into the back pocket of his jeans and tugged out his wallet. He tossed it into Tandy’s lap with a flick of his wrist. “Open that up and tell me you wouldn’t let me into a club if you were a bouncer.”
Because there was a very convincing piece of plastic in the window-slot of his wallet, with Billy’s face. The name was different, and kinda tongue-in-cheek: William Spellman. But it was legit-looking enough, with the holographic stamp and everything. Had never been turned away. In reality, it was just a hunk of plain, white plastic. What mattered was that the person looking at it already had an idea of what they wanted to see.