milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Santino moved into the bar with the usual dancer's (hunter's) steps and settled himself into a table. A rather open table, with several empty chairs for company.

Hair uncut tonight- back to it's full length and majesty- black curls rolling down to nearly sweep his shoulders, the crowning glory his beauty. Jacketless tonight, merely in a white, collared shirt with the top two buttons undone and his usual dark suede pants. Black, well-polished and expensive-looking shoes.

The usual fare.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It is not going to do very much."

She narrows her eyes at him dubiously, before obediently following his instructions.

It is a mere matter of seconds before she snickers helplessly, burying her face in one hand.

"T-told you."

"That is certainly something." Santino replied, grinning. "I had my entire life to get this way."

"I have had for always and this is all that you will get," she makes a vague sweeping gesture with her hands - still giggling slightly.

Santino laughed, then looked Lethe up-and-down in an extremely overt, near-leery manner. Tone suddenly taking a dirty, seedy quality, "I'm not complaining."

Then let loose laughter, dropping the obvious facade.

A tiny hiccup of a gasp - cheeks a brilliant shade of red and both hands firmly clasped over her mouth.

Wide, bright blue eyes war somewhere in between terribly, horribly shocked and impishly amused.

Santino laughed, a full, warm sound.

"Oh, Lethe, you are too easy and I am too cruel."

He tried to pry her hands away from her mouth, by curling his fingers into hers.

Lethe lets go reluctantly, narrows her eyes, and for a split second the fingers in his feel like - embarrassment, utterly mortifying cheeks flushed and eyes wide and horrified.

Eyes glint impishly and she giggles - kissing his cheek once more.

Santino laughed, returned her kiss in kind.

"I am a cruel man."

"Not always."

Her eyes wrinkle at the corners with the smile.

"I am just reminding you, since you seem to have forgotten what it is like to turn colors."

Santino gave her a grin. "It'd be quite hard, yes, to make me blush."

"And it is too easy for me."

Too easy for a lot of things - her eyes narrow, fingers twisting - very breakable.

"I worry," she says. "I worry and - and Styx is a very dangerous thing. She bends and breaks and does it sweetly - too many people here that are important."

Santino nodded, listening, trying to calm her with a smooth tone and a palm upon her cheek.

"She cannot hurt us here. There are rules."

"There are many different ways to hurt, Salvatore."

Her voice is soft, but still - no shaking, she is calm.

"Many of them cannot even be noticed."

Santino adjusted Mal in his arms, so he held as one would a child.

"They are done slowly and sometimes even you can pretend that they are not there - for a while that you are fine, whole."

Lethe blinks, cheek against his chest.

"Clever ways to hurt, because they leave no marks that you can show."

"Then we must hold on, as best we can."

She has held on for so long, but things slip easily - she slips easily, water through clumsy fingers and drowning there.

"And what if there is nothing left to hold on to?"

"Then we cry, until we're ready to go on." Santino replied, smoothing her hair a little.

Doubts and questions - how do you, why do you - but she can't say them, cannot bear to imagine things so hopeless that they will not want to start, to move ever again.

"I would not like to imagine you crying," she whispers. "You should not ever have reason to."

"Of course I have." Given, a long time ago. "But now I can move onwards."

"I know gods who can do less," she murmurs. "You are brave then - to be able to keep yourself together."

"You will, too." Santino replied, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Eventually. This pain won't last forever."

"It is a strange thing to want to learn."

A tiny, almost wry, smile.

"How to pick up the pieces well enough to look like you are whole - sad when you have enough practice."

"It's better than pain, isn't it?"

She considers it seriously, turning the idea over in her head.

"I am not certain," she replies. "Better in some ways, because pain is not something often desired. But sometimes you need it - if you do not feel things, then what are you?"

She blinks up at him - - slowly, softly - with dark, ancient eyes.

"I am bent and broken, yes. I am so very far from perfect, but I am still here."