Tandy Bowen doesn't have to pick between (cloakndagger) wrote in repose,
Re: Tandy/Billy/Atticus: the lake
Tandy wasn't the most excellent judge of cool. He inhabited it, largely by not acknowledging it had an impact or bearing on his day to day existence. It was a contradiction: to care was not cool but could you care about being cool while still cool? He had no suggestion of eccentric past-times to ascribe to Atticus, who smiled broadly, the particular open and honest sort that made trust a forgone conclusion. Theoretically, anyway as Tandy didn't trust as easily as simply following indications but he assessed both the way the man had looked him over and the tenor of the exchanges between Billy and Atticus. The nervousness, the sensation that Billy was quivering somewhere under the surface like a too-tight violin string was not a product of Atticus. Atticus, Tandy largely liked. Save for the way in which he disposed of his cigarette. 1999 was within Tandy's own lifetime.
"Thank you, Billy." Deadpan. For the introduction several steps too late, and Tandy grinned in Atticus's direction before he followed Billy on his road into the covered ferry. He ducked with obligatory habit, despite it being entirely unnecessary and was hit by a wave of smell that shocked his salivary glands into overproduction. His mouth filled, and his stomach yawned. Tandy was careful about consumption. Height, age and genetics contributed to a perfect storm of requiring more sustenance than the averagely-sized human which - when you calculated the cost of TP was a significant consideration day by day, okay?
So the food-spread did significant things to the state of Tandy's stomach. He took a plate, carefully and he loaded it neatly. "He seems nice. Significantly younger than you presented him."