Re: [declan and clementine, marvel]
[Declan, even if he'd been privy to tale f her zombie days, would have found it difficult to believe. Not the part about the firing of guns, there was something wholly believable about a Southern girl wearing a gun holster as easily as denim cutoffs. The fact that she was a Murphy nearly cemented the reality of her having shot and/or killed someone. Discreet violence ran in their blood. It hadn't been surprising to hear about what Jude had done to her, although it had been disappointing. Blood was supposed to be thicker than rivalries.
There was tension when she spoke of their family 'bedding down.' Stress and strain under the skin, it made the muscle in his forearm tighten like something better left unsaid. He knuckled the rail of the boat the same way that he'd knuckled the steering wheel on the drive here, like it was a reign. Although if that reign was meant to keep a hold on her or him, Declan didn't know. He didn't like that she'd said that, like it was obvious. Certain things could be covered up if one didn't talk about them, but talking about them brought the issues to light. And there were certain things that they just did not talk about, raised properly like they were.
Her spine tilted back to his chest, and he was still as stone.] Maybe. [His response was dull to her offer, a smear of politeness across the bitter plain. As for what she said of their father, Declan had even less to comment. She'd always been the favorite, he thought. While Declan had never been shunned, he felt a separation among his siblings that could only be explained by half. Then, back. Away. A moment's closeness was enough, but his skin itches and he'd thought of wrapping an arm around her... and half wasn't near enough to do that.]