Re: In the woods, near a path
He wasn't any wolf, and although he could have corrected her a dozen times, the bad man of leather and boots remained almost wordless. He had a quip here and there, which we would get to later, but there was nothing about him that reflected a want to devour her. He hungered, that was true, that was tellable in his face and his eyes, but he hadn't promised her harm. Maybe if she wanted harm, they could negotiateā¦ he was in a giving mood. But cruelty wasn't the glitter in his pretty eyes when he stared up at her. Just wanting, just wondering if he was enough for the prom queen Bo to stick around for awhile, even if he wasn't sheep or wolf. Maybe she thought all of his promises were lies, but they didn't feel like lies when he was saying them.
"The perfect fit looks like you," hadn't she realized it yet? It was her, all about her. But when she asked about feeling, Leather twisted the side of his skull down against the leather jacket curve of his shoulder, it was a look without promise because he didn't think so, he didn't know for sure. Despite all of his promises, despite all of his lies, it felt weird to force them through the sieve twice. Maybe he couldn't promise her possession of his heart, that was meant to be reserved for somebody elseā¦ he remembered that, even if the woman in front of him made him want to ignore. Maybe he could forget, the same way he forgot his own name, but there was still knowledge inside of him. Some kind of awareness that tonight was going to be all they had, it was limited, and she was slipping away. She'd be a ghost soon. Remember how much he held affection for those? "I can feel," he said from the dirt. He was already kneeling, didn't she know that he would do anything for her right now? He'd take up sacrifice on her altar if little Bo wanted to save all of her lambs instead. His eyes begged for her just to say it.
"I don't want to forget you," which wasn't a promise that he wouldn't. He'd never learned how to predict or correct these things. He might crave her like the sun on his face come morning, or the night might be a blur. Maybe it depended on how much he had to drink, as Bad was already reconsidering the flask in his back pocket. It wasn't seeming like a bad idea, but he was distracted with a frilly hem of pink just ahead, and it made his fingers curl in the dirt instead of reaching for his back pocket. "But that isn't a promise that I won't." He knew what she wanted, but there was a certain song that outlined the details of other circumstances. Still, you try. Did she want to leave him half in the shadows, half burned in flames?
"Then, we will dance." From the dirt, and there was only a brief dusting of palms across the front of his thighs in order to release the clinging Earth. "Come here, wandering star, and I will hold you close. You can re-teach me the waltz." He wasn't sure that he remembered that one. Bad didn't reach for her, not even when she came close enough to touch his chin and tip it. If Bo, or Red, or Juliet wanted a dance, they were going to have to make the first move.
Her request to be held close seemed to do the trick, because he found her back with the cuff of his arm, and he turned with her in a moonlight that barely echoed music.