Tandy Bowen doesn't have to pick between (cloakndagger) wrote in repose,
Re: Billy/Tandy: the neighborhood
Tandy had infected the world with Maslow. It had been a present, burning theory to hold stuff together with when he had been crashing in an abandoned house with no power-supply, wifi network or hot water in the place of a girl who had been bound and determined to survive even when things like beds and showers existed. He had clung to it, a little. He had shared it with Alex, who appeared to need something to cling to, in a way Tandy understood markedly, and now Alex had passed it to Sabrina, who kept it to himself despite the aforementioned cheek-hurting split of a smile. It looked good on Sabrina, happiness. Tandy wasn't sure he'd seen the exact combination of the inching slide of smile and comfort prior. Sabrina in the trailer had been himself, but not relaxed.
This, Billy, looked pretty relaxed. "If you ever need a reminder, check out literally any art gallery in the entire world. It doesn't need to be MoMA to count as art, Sabrina." Deadpan. "I draw famous dead guys all the time."
And yes. Tandy had established that in theory, it was entirely possible they were similar in being equidistant from ordinary, just at different parallel angles. He figured Billy kept stuff separate because Billy was by nature, sprawling and comfortable and it had to be challenging, false intimacy layered over real intimacy unless they were divorced, boxed up and living in separate counties.
Tandy laughed. He toed off his sneakers now, because his ankles and feet were going dead, blood pooling in extremities he wasn't moving frequently enough and drew his feet up underneath his thighs with apparent comfort despite the large scale stretch going on. "I am documenting. I see no apparent and immediate cause for concern."
Pause. "So it's a not right now, thing." Steady. Clear. He met Billy's eyes when he asked the question.