Re: Quicklog, Marvel: Clementine M/Shane A
[Shane looked around, at the Great fucking Outdoors, all the trees stacked together like some invading army behind them, while the lake stretched out from a small slope, like a great goddamn Fitzgerald-short-story-approved emerald set into the ground and whipped liquid. He'd spent a lot of his childhood outside too, but it hadn't been in places like this, trees and sky and fucking birds. No, he'd seen mostly telephone wires and the ugly undersides of sneakers washed grittier in city rain, concrete alleys, and the dead, weedy grass of a friend's lawn beneath the scraped metal of a lawnchair. They rode their fucking bikes in the street because no one told them not to. It wasn't nature shit like this.—Alexander blue eyes cut over the landscape, almost lazily, before coming back to Clementine.] The fuck would I want to go there for? [Shane snorted.
The South wasn't his Yankee ass' idea of a good time, yeah?
Shane looked amused, mild and mocking, when Clementine brought up figuring her life shit out.] You talking 'bout fucking Graham, the kid, both or neither? [She might not have been direct, but he was. He picked a hair from his tongue before slipped his hands into his pockets.] Before you got here or whatever, you have your life figured out?