I’ve got a solid three point shot if that’s the business. Details, details, nothin’ to sweat there — can’t say I’m interested in associating or disassociating with anything these days. Easy there, killer, you’re eating up that word count quickly whether you want to spare a guy like me the time of day or not. It’s only attractive on the outside, but in the long run it’s not doin’ good for anyone. Pretty boy face with a century of stress wearing on my face, can’t always be wearing a smile you know — of course you know that though, don’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen your lips twitch into even a mockery of a smile since I ran into ya.
Busy. In a sense, I guess you could say — boy we’re playing around with a lot of metaphorical things tonight, aren’t we? Too little to do always leads up to trouble. Now that’s a lady I’ve spent far too much of my life flirting with. Now he’ll smile that dastardly smile and humor the blonde.
What can I say? I’m not going to deny my own century of stress, but if a mockery of a smile is needed to convince you of my humanity, then here you go. Have fun with it for now because I can’t cross my fingers and hope to die you’ll see it much more. Not that I’m entirely unhappy, but happiness is fleeting and a modern social construct, so I prefer to revel in contentment and not fake it until my dimples have biceps.
But nice. Nice smile and good job calling out the elephant in the room. Back and forth poetry makes for a seemingly good introduction, but heavy phrasing never lasts anyway. Trouble—you know I find myself constantly dabbling in that. Not on purpose, but its vice grip keeps cranking my internal organs and forcing me to expel more wrong than I ever dreamed for myself.
So he’s a poet — Unfortunately for you, I’m metaphorically bankrupt over here and can say in earnest that I’ve got no interest in any of that mind-numbing mating ritual stuff you’re throwing around over there. None of that is any of my business at this point in time. They say pictures are worth a thousand words, I could smile for a picture and give some morons food for discussion. Are you gonna oblige yourself to discussing a picturesque smile with me, then?
Ambitious. Born hot-headed, yet cool enough to slip my way in and out of everything life has to offer from a young age. I took everything I wanted and threw everything else away. Call you Roxas so that you can call me Axel in return~
Throwing it around should be replaced with throwing it away. There’s no business to be had, so don’t bother attempting to disassociate with a nonentity. That’s fruitless and exhaustively stupid. Also, don’t be so quick to generalize. I don’t have a thousand words for the likes of you. There’s no sustenance about wanting to see you smile. It’s attractive, and that’s all there is to it. In no way am I a poet, and unlike so many, I know it. But you’ve got yourself a pretty boy face that doesn’t wear a neutral expression well.
Axel— hmn. It sounds like you’ve had a busy life. Then look at me. Small town California with too many bills and too little to do.
Ah, Unemployment ran dry on ya? Indulge me for a minute here — what exactly am I paying for? I don’t recall asking you out on a date or anything, blondie.
You know how to get what you want, huh? They always comment on the dazzling smile first —
On a metaphorical front, you could definitely say that, red. Don’t worry, though. I’m not interested in the mind-numbing mating rituals that’re sugar coated anticipations for fucking in lieu of subconscious breeding. All I asked from you was a smile because I’m just not in the element for my own. That was the request not bartering.
I can’t think of anything I want that I haven’t gotten. Then again I’ve had a few years to become ambitious. —But enlighten me. Call me Roxas so that I can call you…?
S’not a wasteland, kiddo — lose that frown and someone might come up and talk to ya.
Allow me to just dip into my friendly disposition funds and —
— huh, seems to me I’m running a little short on cash. Humor me and pay both our fees this time around? You’ve got such nice teeth after all.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be in vogue in these parts again?
—too bad it’s a fucking wasteland here.
Shoulders shifted beneath leather, legs strode along a sun eaten sidewalk and he reached up to fix the beanie on the top of his blond head. Roxas was lingering along the sidewalk in search of a particular diner he had no genuine urge to eat at, but there was a certain someone there he was more than interested in speaking with. If he had timed it right—and well, Roxas really wasn’t one for being late or misinterpreting schedules—then that person would be ending her shift in approximately ten minutes. He could find a booth, settle with a cup of coffee that would taste as if dirt had an asshole and then wait to have a nice heart to heart with the person he knew was his sweetheart. The contemplation of that title made him suck back his lips as if he had been force fed an entire trough of lemons, but he broke the expression and shifted the messenger bag hanging off his shoulder.
What was in the messenger bag? Ancient books—but the kind of text only three people he knew could read. Himself, his bitch of a controlling sister and then a redhead he frequently considered pissing on. It was a talent deriving from some strange demonic trait where languages were obsolete to them and they could not only speak all but read all tongues under the right condition. The investment in these books had started with Xion’s clumsiness. Sometimes things would seemingly ‘slip through her fingers,’ but more than once Roxas had found himself squinting a little harder at her willowy fingers because he could’ve sworn the figure of speech hadn’t been quite so figurative. Another moment that had tipped him off was when Xion herself had tripped down the end of the stairs. Her foot had seemed to miss a step, but instead he would’ve sworn on the graves in his backyard she had gone through the wood. The real winner, though, was the one thing he was yet to mention to her. The tiny raven haired darling doll he adored levitated in her sleep. Weird, undeniably, but well, stranger things had happened.
Stepping into the diner, Kilgore immediately spotted Xion with a tray on one hand and her other palm planted low on her hip. The first thing he thought to do was take a seat in her section and wait to be noticed, but he decided to be a little friendlier. Sometimes he forgot he had the authority to do so now. Stepping forward, Roxas’ hand firmly grasped onto the girl’s bicep and he tugged her back before smoothly sliding a hand beneath her tray just in case. Planting a kiss against her temple, Roxas fleetingly laughed at Xion and made sure she was steadied before letting go. “You get off soon, right?” He glanced over at the clock and motioned toward an empty booth. “I brought something you’ll want to look at, but we don’t have to stay here. We can go wherever.” Giving her another quick kiss, Roxas made his way toward the booth and slid in before tugging out his phone.
It looks like I’m back from the dead, again.
You do realize this means quality time with me—yes, yes?