Re: the reunion; cas & mat
As ever, he was the unfazed spectator to her throes of over-acting. Although, being deeply fond of his testicles, he would never call it that to her face. The telenovella exorcism, the deeply pained lurching of more brittle bones; he bore witness. He drank from saponaceous, bubbling grapes and waited, positively abstemious and dull-eyed, for her to finish whatever it was she was doing. Unmoved while she mocked, there was not even a twitch or a stitch of a smile, the man was positively restive in the passenger side until she at last lit her cigarette and roused the engine. Their steel Minotaur growled, prepared to itinerate anywhere and everywhere within this town's labyrinthine, quaint little Hallmark corners.
"I do have a pool." He didn't admit to it being indoors, but figured that he had numerous, monstrous bathtubs in residence, if she required splashing around with a roof over her head. "Left at the stop sign, and then straight on 'til morning, Wendy-oiseau." He gestured vaguely with the bottle, like some means of dowsing for the grave sites of whatever people they used to be. The bubbly clenched tight as a bargaining chip in his fist, its neck in his knuckles. Her being a so-called Sabrina(the teenaged) got a smirk out of him, some knock-off brand of clearly disbelieving. One of her dark spirited jokes, no doubt, like faking a seizure. The smirk faded when she threatened his dick, and the bottle was promptly passed over.
"Right. Well, Witchy-poo, if you opt not to suicide pact us straight into the depths of the lake, my house will eventually be on the right. There's a green gate."