Marley Kincaid.
Watching him flail in a flurry of yellow flyers at the same instant that someone walks in the door is probably the most entertaining thing I've seen in the last few years. That's right, years. Dare I say that I might actually be happy that he just happened to walk into the River Brew while I was there? Well I did, so even if I didn't want to, it's too late. Still, I didn't smile like I was happy to see him or laugh at him wickedly like the evil entity that everyone seemed to think I was. I just stared, watching until the mess had been cleared and the inital shock had died down. "Hi Nevada." My name sounds beautiful on his lips. Conceit can be a wonderful thing — my name sounds beautiful on everyone's lips, with the exception of the obvious because everything sounds like rot on his lips. I have no idea what rot would sound like, but I imagine it would be something like Acelyn Winefield's voice. Yes, I really do have something against him; a nasty sort of... Russian grudge. I'd just love for all sorts of bad things to happen to him, even though I don't know him that well and it is therefore not my place to judge him for faults at all. Anyway, this isn't about Winefield, and he doesn't deserve it even if I am insulting him. He's not worth my insults.
I watched Marley closely, examined him, examined the guy he was with — presumably his boyfriend from the looks of things — and then wondered what I'd say. Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. I turned ready to just walk away nonchalantly without another word, Titania glued to my heels and had to stop when I noticed that the presumable boyfriend of Marley's was standing infront of someone else who had just walked in, scrutinizing every detail of something... coloured on one of his hands. It made my eyes ache and I reached up to rub the heel of my hand in. I realized that I was staring when Titania pulled on my shirt and called my name, but I didn't reply to him. I didn't get a chance. In that split second, before I had a chance to blink, that guy rammed his fist into the other guy's face, and people tell me I have rage issues. I was a little stunned, to say the least, and I was actually a little amused. This is the kind of thing that I'm able to fully enjoy because it means that there's someone out there just as miserable as I am. Sad, isn't it, that I find pleasure in other peoples' pain? That makes me a sadist, and not the creepy sexual torture kind of sadist either, so don't even think about it. Those who automatically made that assumption... you're all perverts. Anyone else is safe. Ha. I sound like an asshole; and please, let it be known that I'm smiling contently to myself as I write this. I actually laugh at the fact that I'm an asshole and that I do nothing to change it.
That's probably exactly why I turned around and walked right up to Marley and smiled at him like I had something nice to say. Instead.... "Is that your dog?" I pointed at the guy with the temper issue. And I just smiled, because I knew that I probably could've fallen for Marley Kincaid too, if it weren't for Vacys. If he had let me go before he left instead of promising me he'd come back, yes I might have moved on. Now? Could I give two shits about what or who Marley is doing? No. Really, no. I like him, I do, and it might be difficult to believe, but it's true. If he'd've just called when I was in the mood to talk to someone (basically just after I've had my afternoon tea), then I might've picked up. Maybe.... Ehh.... Yeah. Yeah, I would've. I think. He'd have to try again for me to test it.
No. No, I wouldn't. Never mind. As likeable as he is.... Or.... No, this is one of those things that make me all indecisive and confused, and I hate indecisive confusion.
I do like him. Really. I do.
Watching him flail in a flurry of yellow flyers at the same instant that someone walks in the door is probably the most entertaining thing I've seen in the last few years. That's right, years. Dare I say that I might actually be happy that he just happened to walk into the River Brew while I was there? Well I did, so even if I didn't want to, it's too late. Still, I didn't smile like I was happy to see him or laugh at him wickedly like the evil entity that everyone seemed to think I was. I just stared, watching until the mess had been cleared and the inital shock had died down. "Hi Nevada." My name sounds beautiful on his lips. Conceit can be a wonderful thing — my name sounds beautiful on everyone's lips, with the exception of the obvious because everything sounds like rot on his lips. I have no idea what rot would sound like, but I imagine it would be something like Acelyn Winefield's voice. Yes, I really do have something against him; a nasty sort of... Russian grudge. I'd just love for all sorts of bad things to happen to him, even though I don't know him that well and it is therefore not my place to judge him for faults at all. Anyway, this isn't about Winefield, and he doesn't deserve it even if I am insulting him. He's not worth my insults.
I watched Marley closely, examined him, examined the guy he was with — presumably his boyfriend from the looks of things — and then wondered what I'd say. Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. I turned ready to just walk away nonchalantly without another word, Titania glued to my heels and had to stop when I noticed that the presumable boyfriend of Marley's was standing infront of someone else who had just walked in, scrutinizing every detail of something... coloured on one of his hands. It made my eyes ache and I reached up to rub the heel of my hand in. I realized that I was staring when Titania pulled on my shirt and called my name, but I didn't reply to him. I didn't get a chance. In that split second, before I had a chance to blink, that guy rammed his fist into the other guy's face, and people tell me I have rage issues. I was a little stunned, to say the least, and I was actually a little amused. This is the kind of thing that I'm able to fully enjoy because it means that there's someone out there just as miserable as I am. Sad, isn't it, that I find pleasure in other peoples' pain? That makes me a sadist, and not the creepy sexual torture kind of sadist either, so don't even think about it. Those who automatically made that assumption... you're all perverts. Anyone else is safe. Ha. I sound like an asshole; and please, let it be known that I'm smiling contently to myself as I write this. I actually laugh at the fact that I'm an asshole and that I do nothing to change it.
That's probably exactly why I turned around and walked right up to Marley and smiled at him like I had something nice to say. Instead.... "Is that your dog?" I pointed at the guy with the temper issue. And I just smiled, because I knew that I probably could've fallen for Marley Kincaid too, if it weren't for Vacys. If he had let me go before he left instead of promising me he'd come back, yes I might have moved on. Now? Could I give two shits about what or who Marley is doing? No. Really, no. I like him, I do, and it might be difficult to believe, but it's true. If he'd've just called when I was in the mood to talk to someone (basically just after I've had my afternoon tea), then I might've picked up. Maybe.... Ehh.... Yeah. Yeah, I would've. I think. He'd have to try again for me to test it.
No. No, I wouldn't. Never mind. As likeable as he is.... Or.... No, this is one of those things that make me all indecisive and confused, and I hate indecisive confusion.
I do like him. Really. I do.