Re: floating above; malefactor/the boss
He watched as the green boy hunched over to eat his hot dog. Starvation was something the pinstriped man knew all about. He knew the kind of desperation hunger brought about in people. Nothing growled louder than an empty stomach, and poverty clipped wings like little else could. No one sang on empty. "Hungry?" was the question he posed in that rumbling voice that echoed like security on the night.
He motioned to the person behind the hot dog stand, wordlessly requesting another for the boy in green. He didn't defend his vanity to this boy. He didn't need to. He'd known too much youth to think he'd make a dent, and he was already feeling as if his kindness was being thrown in his face. He'd misjudged, which he seldom did. He blamed it on the time of year. He hated summer. This boy was worse than a song singer with his heart on his sleeve. He would be grateful now of those melodies that reminded him of his lost youth. This conversation was having the opposite result. They should've known better. Correction, said the voice inside him, they did know better.
The hot dog vendor came around the stand with the second offering, and the pinstriped man smiled a charming smile that was returned with a shy titter and downward glance.
He returned his attention to the boy, his own Coke suddenly gone from his hand. "I'd like to point out that I've been trying to make conversation with you, but it seems I'm not what you were seeking tonight. Humor me and tell me what you did seek."