Re: Shiloh F + Jack P: The Capital
"I don't need creative suggestions," Shiloh responded. He didn't think on it at all, because who required creative suggestions from strangers in alleyways? He thought this man an odd sort, and Shiloh considered himself an odd sort, but perhaps this man was even odder. If he'd seen the pyrotechnics, he would've considered himself convinced about the oddity of his walking companion, but he didn't see the sparks. It wasn't that he willfully ignored them. It was only that prison had taught him not to look strangers in the face for too long. It was a new lesson, but Shiloh had learnt it well, and there was something about this man that felt like he shouldn't be looked in the face.
The smell of cigarettes was soothing, but Shiloh didn't ask to bum a smoke. He didn't light his own joint. He walked, and he was loose-limbs and long gait slow, but he laughed beneath his breath. "An odd duck, indeed," he said, because the man rather had told him to fuck himself. "Lecturing, when uninvited, is similar to telling one to fuck themselves, and it's no business of yours where I was going, now was it? Or are you always a hypocrite? No, I rather think you are always a hypocrite. It sits comfortably on you."
But he didn't move faster, didn't argue against the pretense that they knew each other. "If that man comes our way, I am most certainly abandoning you," Shiloh said. It wasn't that he was afraid, but perhaps he thought getting his face rearranged again might not have the same positive outcome as it had the last time.