Re: Manor: Damian/Misha
[Misha expected Damian to think he, Misha, was mad as hatters. These days, Misha expected folks to question less and less. Like Oliver, who always told Misha that he was bonkers, and Misha wasn't near as chafed by it as he'd been once. He didn't even go telling folks here he was angel-kind. Sure, it slipped some, especially when they medicated him heavy, but he stayed away from it near as he could. At the beginning, he'd insisted he didn't give a good damn what folks thought of him, but that had stopped being the case some years back. Still, the chafing was becoming less raw, and Misha reckoned the day might come where he was real well scabbed and wouldn't hurt any over it.
Balcony, sill, Misha was just looking on down as Damian spilled on out of that window and balanced himself perfect.] Ever want to give up this sweet living, you could come on down to the carnival. You'd do real well on the tightrope. [Misha was smiling 'round that cigarette held easy. He watched as Damian grabbed the eaves and pulled himself up with strength that wasn't real immediate in that hoodie.
Misha shimmied just a real small bit over, giving Damian room to sit, but not doing a damn thing to put any real space between his shoulder and the other boy's. He handed the lip-damp cigarette back with real long fingers that were cool to the touch.] Your voice's real deep. Interesting, ain't it, how you look at folks and think they'll sound a certain way, and then they don't sound that way any? [Misha's voice wasn't deep any at all. In fact, the boy's voice was, just like the rest of him, real androgynous. He tapped the side of his sleeping slipper against one of Damian's sneakers light. He just look on over at Damian, eyes real bright blue and like midday skies. Could be it was invitation for talking, or silence to drag out words, seeing as it came with a smile that tipped up the corner of Misha's mouth.]