Tandy Bowen doesn't have to pick between (cloakndagger) wrote in repose,
Re: Billy/Tandy: the neighborhood
Subtlety was like pencil. It filled in shadow, gave edge to objects that were still impermanent, and undecided on where they would finally wind up. Subtlety wielded in the right way was sometimes super for a specific mood or moment and the mood Tandy was getting in waves off Billy was blank piece of paper scraped clean imperfectly, the haze of a prior sketch and rubbered-balls clinging to the paper. Tandy had done shutting down. It was effective. It was the quiet, but determined set to chin, the blank look offered in exchange for well-intentioned concern. It silenced adults, and it kept people at bay and he got it clear and loud as if it had been in ink instead of pencil.
Tandy slid off the bed. The motion was all at once, but casual, relaxed. As if it weren't a very effective way of getting scooted out of the room. "That would be neat," he said. Chill. Because it was most supremely fine if all the talk of serious, self-defining stuff had exceeded capacity in the room. "I'm going to go unpack." As if this involved significant consideration of location of all amassed stuff which equated to a backpack.
It wasn't kind. It was exactly the kind of intent Tandy expected from anyone given a pre-defined, clear signal that enough was now enough, thanks so please evict yourself. He stood. He stretched. He gave Sabrina a small quirk of the mouth that was close enough to a smile and ambled away from the bed, which looked distinctly like a Sabrina-only zone right now and headed toward the door.
"Bowie later. Bowen out." There was a significant chance Tandy was smiling on the way out, but it wasn't visible given his back was to the boy on the bed.