Re: Studio: Wren & Ryan
Her name on the pink-and-white-and-cinnamon girl's tongue, it sounded the way Ry remembered. Like chocolate melting, strange but OK - which was extraño, right. Weird, 'cuz her name wasn't like her brothers or nothing, it was whiter than white. Quiet, but she remembered that part too and it hadn't mattered or nothing. It just meant stopping to listen.
Her grin was full-wattage, neon lights late night. "Right," she agreed, on a long gap between the last time and this time - she didn't know, che. Ryan was bad about time, about weeks or months. The company was a black hole, time sucked in and nothing left over and maybe it had been longer than Ry thought it was.
"You came back, right. That's enough." People outside the discipline of company regime and checks on Fridays, they didn't have to. The world made you stretch and hurt and bleed and you only came back over and over if you were loco, or you were in love. Ry didn't know what she was. But she liked Wren's smile. It looked like she didn't do it much, and Ry's grin was encouraging.
"You wanna be lost, it's the best place to be something that's not you." It would take you, you weren't careful. Subsume you into a line, a buncha people all doing the same thing, same time, in the same order with the same syrup-glide of music. It was the best place Ry knew, and it was the worst. "You started coming because you needed to get lost again?"