Re: log: joey & ella, gatsby
Ella didn't see prison gristle and elder-brother stretch. That thinness and skimmed-down bulk made him as unintimidating as the kind of man who passed through a diner and ate everything cheap off the menu. She knew he'd done things that had locked him behind bars back when life made sense and doors opened and closed, Max had made it real clear you couldn't rub out that kind of stain. But mostly, she thought he looked like he could do with a meal. Joey had never looked mean, mostly just like he hated being wherever he was.
"Iris?" she knew Iris from closed doors and whispered words behind white paint, from a house filled with sunshine and dirty secrets. "I met her. Before all the doors opened." The starshine smile died a little, Ella turned her chin more tightly into her palm, fingers splayed against her jaw. The blue eyes were thoughtful, seeing nothing in a dusty wall. "She doesn't get to know easy, I don't think." She'd tried, once. Trays outside doors, whispers and words. It felt forever ago.
She thought of waiting tables, of how easy it would be to go back to it. "I think maybe," they offered nothing but they were out in a world that pretended to be real harder than any kind like this one, "But I want to do something, maybe." She looked at him: maybe he understood, life hit pause temporarily while all the bad stuff threw itself at the walls and stuck. "Do something that means something."
She looked at his knee, the sprawl of him reminded her briefly of Coop, dismissed the minute she looked at the shoulders. "What about you, honey? What you planning to do out in the world?"