preston rawlings, psychic accountant (ex_clerk820) wrote in rooms,
Re: Gatsby: Preston/Saint
To Preston, everyone's thoughts had a kind of something that was unique. It was to his new sense as flavor was to taste, as color was to sight. The something had pieces of personality, speed, emotion, and character, and the closest Preston came to identifying it was by labeling it the "sound" of a person's mind. He therefore “heard” Saint long before he saw him, and didn’t turn around because he was more anxious about pretending to be normal than he was about seeing the man with two eyes, a rather telling fact on which he refused to dwell. Preston was still learning not to anticipate the actions and speech of others, and sometimes he found himself staring into the confused eyes of someone who realized that he, Preston, had known what they were about to do long before they did it. It was a frightening look and Preston never wanted to see it again every time he did.
He turned slowly, therefore, easing his weight back on one hip and keeping his hands loose. He squinted in the sunlight, pleased that he could stand with Saint and not automatically look for the injuries that one or the other of them had sported in times past. He did a surface skim of the man’s thoughts, as natural and unthinking as reaching out to take his hand, which he did with a nearness that would not have accompanied a simple business gesture. “Hello.” Preston’s smile was not sleepy, but it was calm, in response to Saint’s calm. The leaves on the green trees around them fluttered in a warm summer breeze.
“Glad you could make the trip. We can get something cool to drink back this way, if you want.” Preston turned, ambling now toward the road, watching Saint’s expression with a sideways tilt of his head. The rattle of the train was soon lost in the murmur of the quickly dissipating crowd, and after a few cheerful horns squawked, many of the roofless Fords had driven off toward one side of the bay or the other. Breathless silence took over, and Preston took a great breath with his eyes held shut a couple seconds too long. “It’s always a relief when everyone leaves.” He chose a path alongside the road. A car passed occasionally, but not often.