Re: Quiet Home: Misha & Oliver
Misha wasn't surprised when bile started pouring out loud from Oliver's mouth. He reckoned that was good, getting bile out. Swallowing feelings like that down, they just made a person fester from inside. He reckoned he should let the therapist do some talking, but the world was froze, and Misha wasn't real aware of it. "I'd be fussed as could be too, but sometimes folks like to make others hurt. Some folks, sad as can be, enjoy making others suffer, especially if they ain't happy themselves. You be angry at her, darling, but don't you let her control you. Woman's controlled enough doing what she did, don't you reckon?" All that was said slouched again, back and knees spread, and like spilling soothing words over bile was something Misha did regular. Truth was, he did say things like that real often, but most folks didn't listen to the crazy boy.
"I'm here on account of being away with fairies. I got bats in the belfry, and they go flapping their wings against the inside of my skull." He shrugged apologetic, like he knew getting advice from someone who was real touched wasn't a thing anyone wanted. "I'm harmless. You can ask 'em. I just think God talks to me is all, that's how they say it. Religious Ideations, but they ain't bad ones. No one's telling me to burn sinner folk."
He hopped to his feet, all tall and lanky. "You come on. I'll show you the painting room. It's better than you doodling on that pamphlet." He held out a hand real easy, as if skipping down these bleak halls hand-in-hand was just this side of normal, nothing to fret over.