Re: Brooklyn: Wren & Ryan
[The phone in her hand, and she didn't have anything on except a shirt that had been in reach, right. Marco's, not hers, because hers was stretchy and tiny and Ry couldn't figure a way of climbing into it without help and without it hurting more than she could handle. Jolt, as he took her down the stairs and he turned his head back to Wren to grin at French as alien as the Spanish was to the grey-eyed woman.
Ry, she saw women work men all the time. But it was the woman still, still herself doing the working. Wren didn't sound nothing like the woman in the ballet studio and Ry believed in her. It was like the working was outside herself, che, like it didn't touch her or it didn't have to. She dialed from her lap, a cab place and she asked Marco the address she didn't know when they asked for it.
It would take a little while, and Marco didn't wanna wait. White girl in his bedroom, she was waiting on him and he dumped Ry on the bottom step, shirt loose over her thighs and nothing on her feet. He left the sheet. Maybe he felt bad or something but she saw his face when he saw her knee and she didn't feel bad at all. Just resigned. This was gonna be how it was, even if she picked better.]