Re: Outside: Clementine & Rudy
He could smell the aldehydic scents of expensive makeup on the filter of the cigarette, though there was no outward impression on white paper. But, the chemical compounds were there, adding a rosy fragrance to the filament of smoke Rudy inhaled deeply, once she'd passed the thing back in exchange for her glass. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head at her saccharine-stinger smile.—Rudy rested back against the beam opposite the woman, pressing spine to the column and tipping his skull back to meet it as well. He held his glass near his waist, hand tucked close, with cigarette lodged between his forefingers, threading smoke up between them thin as can be.
It wouldn't be right to say his interest was particularly burning either, though it was true that the man could catch fire, with the right combination of kindling, friction, and accelerant. But, this was simple conversation that followed along the pages of a script that hadn't changed in years. Man buys woman drink.
He sniffed in the air, turning his head to watch more people coming toward the bar, before his grizzled gaze fell back on Clementine, her bare shoulder, and her sipping that bourbon. She claimed not to be angry her husband had left, only that he had returned, and Rudy felt he could understand that. He hadn't seen whichever man was on the ass-end of the woman's ire, but an arranged marriage wasn't fertile ground for much passion. Or at least, he didn't think so.
"You didn't see your eyes, in there." He gestured toward the door with glass and cigarette both, before downing that bourbon in one go. He clarified, in case she hadn't understood. "You were scared." The man paused a moment to suck on his cigarette and to ash it over the wood of that porch. He exhaled. "She's dead. Has been for a long time. Not much to chase." Time never did heal loss, but centuries were thick scar tissue, and he was no longer stirred to any strong emotion at the mention of the woman. He remembered Clementine's mention of books, and he gave her a hard-won chuckle. He bared his teeth in what could pass, barely, as a smile around his cigarette. "Women still like being chased down?"
And in a delayed answer to her question earlier, he told her, "My name's Rudy."