Re: log: jude/louis
Oh Pan. Didn't all young boys who'd left mothers behind (and fathers a forgotten trail somewhere in the woods, but never turned over, never discovered) love a tale about the boys everyone had forgotten and left to their own devices. "We've got no Pan in charge, and no Wendy. We'd be hopeless," Jude said with a smile that erred on winning.
"Painting each other to the walls? Oliver paints everything that holds still long enough. Me, I'm just collateral damage." He turned over a palm, displayed a streak of oil paint in scarlet that looked like stigmata. "You get good at scrubbing off the first layer of skin unless you want to be a walking Pollock. No, he paints. I play and read. We rub along all right. But it's a disaster for tiny humans. What about you, when you get time off for good behavior?"
And he laughed, careless and bright as it rang off the china and the jewelry in a shop about old things sold to those they were new to. And he could imagine Louis in that dry as dust voice asking Oliver all about Jude's personal predilections and grinned. Louis had a sense of humor, it just sparkled rather than glowed like the sister. "Only when the arresting officer looks like you, rather than a stern old man who tightens them a fraction too much. And I plead the fifth on all and any self-incrimination, with a side of not-guilty, y'Honor." Jude's eyes danced and his mouth ticked with wicked lack of innocence in all things up-to-no-good.
"I suppose a shih tzu is the kind of dog attached to people who like antiques. A good labrador or retriever wouldn't much mind, except you wouldn't see much of the crockery after. Not a dog person?"