Re: The Jaded/The Disaffected
Nicky's hands were cold too. Not mail-car cold, but a cold that was congenital as his apathy, bred into his blood and bones by the fact of who and how he was. Not that the other guy felt any warmer, but he didn't pull away from the touch or channel an inner Karen like "oh, your hands are so cold!" Just let himself be touched, which is usually how it happened. If he didn't want it, it wouldn't happen for long.
"I was born with all the inner emo darkness you see before you," Nicky quipped with the shadow of a grin. A slight curve, a tug at one corner of his mouth like it was being drawn upward by an invisible finger. Because in a way, it was actually true. "It's not just a phase, Dad. This is who I am." Sardonic, now. Earnest, but again, dripping with bullshit. Second time he'd called someone that tonight. He'd own up to the daddy issues, sure. He had them. Kind of hard not to. It just wasn't a normal family situation. Or a normal family. He couldn't just walk away from it all. He was bound.
"Maybe you didn't," he allowed. Again, didn't care, really. Wasn't his business, anymore than committing mail fraud. Definitely wasn't feeling bored or melancholic anymore so this conversation was doing the right kind of work. And no, there actually wasn't a particular reason Nicky had any sort of familiarity with laws and statutes. It was just a thing he knew, like how Oscar Wilde had died in Paris or the Cubs won the World Series. He didn't watch sports or read poetry. Some things were just general knowledge.
"Always been told I shouldn't wander off with strange men," he said. No such thing was true. But he said it, because it was the kind of thing that could be said. A question like "you got a name?" he knew, would only be answered by "yes." Or maybe, another "maybe." Direct, then: "So tell me your name." Hadn't moved, yet. Had a little bit of interest, but it was genuine enough.