Re: AHS: Sam A & Cris M
She didn't look tired. There was no twin bruises of exhaustion beneath blue eyes. She was chipper. Cris looked from outstretched arm puncturing the beach just outside, to blonde blowing in the salt of the wind. Her feet pressed high against the outside of his thigh, but he didn't seem to mind, no matter the grit of sand that stayed on the retro fabric. Instead, he focused on the expansion of the needle-wide road as they pulled up onto the bump of the pavement, the pair of them jostling together some on the smooth bench seat.
He listened as the wind poured in through the cranked down windows and the car picked up speed as the sea slicked by outside the passenger window in a metallic glint of sunlight off water. The light came through in bands as it ciphered through the idle sentinel of just-planted palm trees.
Dinosaurs. Zombies. Demons. Ninguna lógica. Practical as he may have been, as a father had to be, he'd never been real logical. He wasn't ruled by his head any more than his heart. He was all gut. Cris flexed his fingers on the wheel as he turned onto the parched, pastel stretch of highway as it lolled out from God knows where like a white tongue.
He watched her struggle to light another kretek out of the corner of his eye, before he finally pushed her hands lower, beneath the suck of the window, near the seat, where she could light without interruption.
"Now I could use that other drink," was all he said, New York dry, squinting into the rearview mirror at the black dot of another car a ways behind them. "You learn all this from experience?"