CLOSED | prompt eight | RUIN

[dondarrion]

prompt eight | R U I N dressing-room style. closed to rog.

 

Comments

[forsook]

You know, [ comes the petulant answer, punctuated by a wave of his hands. (She knows, he knows. Blood runs thicker than water and there is nowhere the principle holds more strongly than with the two siblings.) ]

Don't get anywhere without breaking a few rules.

[complicit]

Is that what this is about? [ Her heels resume, now in a determined stalk that brings her right to the edge of the couch. Her neatly-coifed hair makes for a sculpted silhouette against the light overhead. ] Getting somewhere? Breaking a few rules?

[ Anyone else and she wouldn't bother — neither with her judgment or her concern. But for Saul, she would move mountains, even when the mountain is him. (As stubborn as she is, as precious as air. Stupid, stupid beloved Saul. ]

She's young enough to be your daughter, nevermind the whole— [ She wiggles her fingers and drops down onto her knees beside him, a hand coming up not to slap him but curl into his hair and give him a stubborn tug. ] —heebie jeebie business.

If you're looking for some taboo thrill— [ She levels him with a rueful smile. ] —fuck me, for Christ's sake.

[forsook]

[ It's a smile that he mirrors, his hand coming up to her wrist, not to pull her hand away but simply to be assured of her presence. (Anyone else and she wouldn't bother — he knows that. It's a point of both comfort and guilt; the former because he knows that even when he can't rely on himself, he'll be able to rely on her, and the latter because he's had something of a habit of letting her down, the current case in point being a perfect example.) ]

Don't think I'd ever be able t' handle you, [ he notes, in much the same kind of tone (as if this were something of a black comedy, as if things weren't dire in the least). ]

I'd be no good for you, anyway.