Re: Carriage House: Atticus & Billy
Atticus thought sex work sounded better than hooker or prostitute. Thought it sounded like he respected the profession, but maybe he was wrong in his assumption about the politically correct way to say things. Decided it in passing, like he decided so many things, without research, and he didn't question it when the words came out of his mouth. He knew Billy was sensitive, but Atticus wasn't sensitive. Wasn't very good at knowing how to step lightly on the topics that others didn't want to discuss. Wasn't all that great at even determining which topics required light steps. But Billy flinched and his muscle twitched, and Atticus wasn't blind. "Said something wrong?" he asked it casually, not too concerned.
But the kid was talking about Destiny helping, and Atticus was glad Billy had an older sister around. Had to be better than being alone. Atticus' opinion on the matter was as simple as that. Billy seemed to like his sister, and Atticus mentally declared her a good person without prodding further.
Atticus questioned. Was what he did, but he saw the sour twist to Billy's mouth. Wasn't going well, and Atticus had wanted to invite the kid over for a nice meal. But Atticus didn't know how to not ask. He didn't know how to tiptoe. He joked irreverently. He pissed people off. This was who Atticus was. But he knew he'd struck a nerve with his question, so he didn't pursue it once Billy joined him at the coffee table turned dinner table. He made a sound of understanding about the money situation. Didn't give his opinion, and just opened the wine and poured into the mismatched glasses as Billy retrieved the utensils. "Interested in college?" Figured the answer was yes, since Billy had mentioned it without prompting. "Wanted to be a fisherman for a long time. Believe that?"
But Billy came back and made that comment about utensils, his teeth flashing, and Atticus laughed. Good thing about being how he was, was that he didn't really get very stressed about things anymore. Not normal things, and as long as Atticus didn't get stressed, then the haunts up in the attic should leave them unbothered. Billy wasn't a threat, and that mattered. "Eat lobster with your hands," she told Billy. The rice and the roe, that required utensils. "Spent years on fishing boats, and we'd boil them on the deck and tear them apart with our fingers. Crabs too." Was a long time ago, and it felt even longer to Atticus.
He took a swallow of the wine. "Don't have a girlfriend. Don't feel sorry for you. Have lobster a lot. It reminds me of being young, and I left you hanging on a meal. Plus, like your company." He lifted his mismatched glass. "Toast?"