Re: Courtyard: Amelia/Shane
[It works. Shane is, if anything, predictable. The teetering challenge of the eye contact has him hold his ground, idly lifting his chin as he tries to figure out her angle. But by the time her fists jerk him in, he is too shocked to do a damn thing. He can't even protest because by the time he starts to bring muddy hands up, she shoves him and he's on his ass in the rain and muck, going down not at all gracefully with a loud "FUCK."
The knife, thank God, was in a case that only rattles uselessly in the fall.
From the ground, the man glares at Amelia, mud splattered up his back and in his hair, down one side of his face and fully up to his elbows. Here, in the madness and muck, Shane's face seems much more open. He used to play like this with his brothers, sliding around outside under the heavy New Jersey sky, wading in overflow from the sewers, and making boats out of huge blocks of discarded Styrofoam. It's a strange sort of replay, and whatever boyishness comes out, he's entirely unaware.
He doesn't stand. He sort of crawls forward to snag her foot in a hunter's grip before she can totally retract it. He yanks, hoping to bring her down into the mess of mud too.] Asshole.