Re: On the rooftop: is the word/Hello
The Elder was definitely not focused on being cool right now. He was sort of preoccupied with trying not to fall to his death, okay? Y’know, literally risking his neck to spread the gospel that a rooftop full of heathens didn’t even care to hear? “Oh, stone of a peach -” The Elder cursed, startled half out of his skin when the man in leather popped up over the edge of the roof like a jack-in-the-box that the Elder did not remember turning. Flakes of rust painted over in black crumbled between his fingers, rubbing off the place where he’d been gripping the railing of the fire escape like his life depended on it.
Which it might. If not his life, then possibly his eternal soul. The Elder pressed one hand flat against his sternum, coating the starched white fibers in a hand print of rust flakes. He’d nearly managed to slow the frantic pounding of his heart before the other man thwacked a hand against his shoulder, and the organ jumped back up into his throat all over again. The Elder’s eyes widened, flashing white like a shark’s in his alarm.
“I - what?” He spluttered, looking stunned. For the first time, he was regretting the fact that he’d managed to ditch his companion a few rooftops ago. The man in leather did not look as if he’d love to hear about the Elder’s message. In fact, the Elder thought that he looked more like the sort of person who might steal his wallet or his bike. Swallowing thickly again, he shook his head. “No, I don’t -- I’m not looking for…”
His mouth opened and closed on air for a moment; he didn’t know how to wrap his lips around the word that the other man had used without being reminded of his sins. Chicks. “This is no oasis,” he managed at last, and if his face twisted with a flicker of bitterness then he was not aware of it. “In fact, it seems more like a wasteland to me.”