(no subject)

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

El. In the bar. Coffee.

Comments

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"How do you excuse your languishing?"

Stern, Dworkin arrives beside him with a sort of impossible immediacy and abruptness.

"Goodness, it's a wonder you ever get anything done."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

El glances over. "I am very slothful," he agrees. "It is a sin."

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"Do you say your prayers at night, at least?"

He presses his hands together in a semblance of prayer. It hurts his fingers, which are usually curled into something like claws.

"Hail Mary, full of grace."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"I always pray," El says, deadpan.

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"For the future? Or for the past? Hope or forgiveness?"

He considers.

"Or does time go in circles in your world? One always assumes things are linear."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"They are between me and god," El tilts his head. "Unless you are my god, then I apologize but they are not yours to hear."

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"I could be."

Fluttering his fingers in a mystical maner.

"If you needed glasses."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"No," El says.

He takes a sip of coffee, his other hand settling onto his thigh.

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"Who are you?"

A therapist-smile.

"How do you self-define?"

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"I am el Mariachi," El says. "Who are you?"

His other finger taps a rhythm against the side of his cup.

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"God."

He sets up a counter rhythm, uneven, illogical.

"You can call me Dworkin."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"Si," El says.

"And what are you doing here?"

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"Idling."

He shrugs, with the shoulder without the hunch.

"There's time yet to pass."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"It seems like you don't have much time left," El pauses. "Senor."

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"I have all the time in any world ever."

He smiles.

"I'm older than your Jesus times fifty thousands."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"You are lucky, then."

[pointed-spoon.livejournal.com]

"Am I?"

He tilts his head.

"It tells a good deal about what sort of person is speaking whether they say that, if they mean it."

[eternal-boy.livejournal.com]

And cookies to dunk in the coffee.

"Happy St. Nick's Day."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

El frows and looks over. "Hello."

[eternal-boy.livejournal.com]

He places the little red and green silk bag with the still-warm cookies onto the bar.

"Hello. I'm just... dropping these around as a gift for the day."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

"Mmmm," El says. He does not make a move to touch them.

"Por que?"

[eternal-boy.livejournal.com]

Blink.

"I... started two years ago. It was a rather nice gesture at the time. I've just continued it."

[songofbullets.livejournal.com]

El makes another wordless sound.

"Thank you."

[eternal-boy.livejournal.com]

He nods, bows his head, and departs.