Re: Quiet Home: Misha & Oliver
Misha knew folks thought he was off his rocker. He was as careful 'bout it as he could be, knowing what happened to his momma on account, but it was hard to lie 'bout things when he wasn't clear. Even clear, he tended to fall right on back to the topics he'd grown with. He had a real passion for music, but his love for things divine was real pure, and it was a big ol' part of the boy that had left holy behind. "I wasn't expecting you to go asking my doctors, sugar. It was just my way of saying there wasn't a thing to do 'bout my stubborn." Misha wasn't upset any. He smiled easy as he had before, though he could tell Oliver wasn't real comfortable, and he didn't think it had to do with crazy angel talk. "If you don't trust doctors, why'd you come? They scare you." He said it like pointing out fears was real simple, and like folks delved in deep all the time. Misha had spent his entire living life around therapists and shrinks, and there weren't any secrets in the places he'd been reared.
He watched Oliver look out that window. Misha knew 'bout the bonfire, but he wouldn't be going. His black eye had gotten him restricted some, and this party was off-limits. He could sneak out, but it wasn't worth it any. He didn't know anyone going, and staying in was just real fine for the moment. "You can go on. You entertained me a real long time, and I can go on forever if you let me." It was true. Misha, he was a talker sure as the day was long.
The fiddle silenced, and Oliver talked of statues. "Not feeling anything, it's easier, especially if you ain't felt things hard in a long time. But, sugarplum, feeling's everything. When was the last time you felt something good, strong, that wasn't holding onto a brush?" He asked it quiet, not wanting to spook the dark-haired boy with shadows living in his irises.