Re: AHS: Sam A & Cris M
He tossed his tie over his shoulder, and she fucking laughed. Cute, yeah, and her smile said he could have that win.
She never thought much about the quick charcoal drawings that she did for the fair-goers. They were easy, no brainer things, and she didn't pour her heart into them like did into pigment on canvas. These days, her fingers itched for a paintbrush, not for a Mig, and she didn't stop and think too much about how the hobby she'd picked up when she'd slit her wrists had taken over her original love for the intertwining of different metals. The brush was more delicate, yeah? Not a strong as melting shit that most people thought of as being hella sturdy. But there was control in tiny strokes, and she dug it. But the lines on her wrists were hidden beneath that virginal white, and he couldn't see any of the scars that life had bestowed her with, and she liked that. She liked that he didn't know she had a junkie's jonesing going on, and she liked that he wasn't aware she didn't have a fucking clue how to quit without Neil around telling her that she could.
He moved her heel, and she laughed. Easy, and not bothered at all, and she was just playing at shit. It was in her expression, that this was just carefree fun. That he didn't have to worry about her pining or anything. And she wasn't worried about anyone seeing the phone. This place was all jacked up, and no one noticed phones when killer clowns were all the fucking rage. Not this far south, though, and that was one of the reasons she came. No one died here, not yet, and she had no idea what story she was in, so she didn't know how long this place would last without being spattered red.
"Yeah, es mio," was her response to his question, and she grinned as she pocketed the phone into yards of black again. "Are you going to get in the water for me?" She hadn't painted in forever, and she wasn't sure if drowning chicks were still her thing; she didn't think so. But she teased him anyway, and he smiled and she pointed with the black straw from her ignored fizzy water. "I want to paint that," she said of his smile. That one that hid all kinds of promises, and still didn't say a thing aloud. "Your sonrisa."