Re: the reunion; cas & mat
Did the man look ready to revel? Decidedly not, with his back molars grinding down onto one another and his prettyboy eyes of erstwhile devilment siphoning black pupils into opioid pin pricks. The dark blot of raven blood soaked through milkweed, his lashes, drew together like a shroud to narrow his vision while she burned, white hot, onto his retinas. Her costume change looked as effortless as their marriage, and Caspar inhaled tobacco to cotton his uneasy nerves.
The smoke unraveled in gray ribbons from his perfect nostrils like some warning from a cartoonish dragon. "Those shoes are fucking hideous." If it wasn't six-inch hypodermic spikes of leather polished for the male gaze, was it even worth wearing? He should probably get points for not actually speaking that little thought out loud.
The veil between their private worlds shredded ever thinner when Caspar stepped up to meet her, his hip to the luscious, streamlined blue-black hood of that expensive car. The key in his open, manicured hand, to her. "You want to drive?" Not exactly an olive branch, more like a death pact if she was up to wrapping them around a tree. Fuck it, of course he was down.