Re: Courtyard: Amelia/Shane
[Shane isn't convinced that tearing them apart is a bad idea, and it's obvious on his face when he looks over at the pair of them again, hand in hand in the spring shower like this was some fucking party and the barbecue was on in back. He gives a stubborn grunt before tipped his head back to let the rain just fall on his face and wash away the mud there. Graham could hate him, as long as it meant he was fucking getting better instead of worse. He didn't want that, of course, but if it meant saving his ass from losing Lorelei twice, he'd fucking do it.
In the Real World, back in Vegas, Shane was almost cautious to the point of superstition when it came to undressing in front of people. He didn't like to do it. But with the end of the world having happened a while ago, he'd grown accustomed to the lack of privacy as much as he had the canned corn for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. So here, out in the rain, he peeled off his muddy vest and his sodden button-up underneath, and got to his feet. He laid the pieces of clothing out over a cracked bench to wash in the rain.
He's not heavily muscled underneath, trim, yes, and wiry, but there's little definition save for his arms. A tattoo curls over his left pec and one under his right arm, up near the arm pit. Another trails down from his shoulder blade, but you can't see that from the front, of course.
He's colder without the thin protection of his shirts, but they're only going to get wetter and dirtier, so he figures he might as well use the fucking rain to his benefit. Still barefoot, his jeans soaked, hanging on his hips, and dragging in the mud, he returns to Amelia and offers her a hand up. He jiggles it impatiently.]