[ faye doesn't look at him; her dark hair falls juuust right that it obscures her side profile and in turn cuts her peripheral in half. she couldn't glance at him without making it obvious, and she's careful about that, because he's looking at her. she can feel his eyes. sometimes it only takes a look. ]
Yeah. Fine.
[ they're strangers in passing, here and gone like a falling star, destined to burn up before making it into the atmosphere. the familiar song and dance that comes with every fleeting encounter in her lifeβnever allowing anyone to stay long enough to see past the bullshit. part of her fears she's the one to stay too long this time.
has the barrier slipped? ]
You lead the way. I don't remember the way out of here.
[Faye's discomfort is what forces Dandy back into his usual goofy register. He cracks a smile, which somehow is all the more convincing now that she's not giving him the time of day. The warmth of his expression pervades his voice. The overly gelled hairball gasps briefly, holding both hands in the air in jest.]
Oh no!
[This is all said and done prior to Dandy stepping in the direction of the door. He takes his place in front of her, so all that's visible is his own backside. And, yes, the duckbutt of the pompadour. God! He's still in his underwear, isn't he?]
With all the walkin' we're gonna be doing, water's bound to start drippin' all over the place! Then it'll just look like I broke your heart.
[*from the jacket, he means
His stroll, his pace, it's all a little too casual, considering what happened just moments earlier. He tilts his head from side to side while he walks, with a center of gravity that is somehow both crotch and hair-first, although it's clear he's not in a rush to usher Faye out.]
That's okay, baby.
[The joking lilt in Dandy's speech all but comes to a slow halt, tenderness creeping in. He seems to welcome it in slowly with an air of tangible nostalgia, ruminating on a silent thought. When they approach the door, he pops it open, still not turning to look at her.
In fact, the whole time he's been in motion, he hasn't glanced in Faye's direction even once.]
[ oh, faye notices. and there will come a moment when she feels both relieved and dispirited that he's chosen not to look at her. if she's lucky she can walk out with a small wave of her hand and a terse bye, but she's rarely ever lucky.
"i'll just tell 'em that you broke mine." his tenderness almost fools her. she knows it's a joke.
the door pops open and she immediately lowers her gaze to the floor, moving to slip around him. they brush shoulders on her way out. it wasn't the reason for her sudden pause though it might appear that way. she hovers in the doorway for what seems like forever. and then she turns, forcing him to look at her. ]
I know I never thanked you for this morning.
[ the food, the drinks, the company, letting her crash on the couch, and use the washer, and not be a total creep the bar is so low.... ]
His less than stellar misstep isn't really the kind that can be thrust aside, not in good faith. She'd be right to think of him as a dog, what with his empty head being filled to the brim with pervy fantasies. Each nearly anatomically inaccurate jiggle of the flesh serves a specific purpose, occupying the corners of his mind, each one a pretty distraction from the lonely reality of his meandering existence.
He's forced to look at her when their shoulders make contact. Forced to think that this is goodbye, and perhaps confront the notion that in the vast expanse that is the universe and its many alternate companions, this may always be the end result. Luckily or un-luckily enough for him, Dandy is stupid enough to believe otherwise and still have hope that things have the opportunity to be different one day.
Dandy utters a platitude that she's heard him say more than once in their time together. He tries to smile at her, but his brows are pressed together in a motion that conveys pain. The door that he holds open feels heavy.]
[ long after they've parted ways and she's alone, once again, not only in her room but in the company of her comrades, she will think about him. this perverted, strange, bizarrely styled, buoyant but immensely lonely man. she studies his face, notes the pain that pinches his brows together, not even a flicker of that doofy smile. she won't smile either; the word goodbye hangs at the tip of her tongue but is never spoken. maybe it pains her too.
instead, faye will just nod, and then turn and walk away. because there's nothing more to say, and no reason to look back, until she knows she's out of his sight for good. ]
no subject
Yeah. Fine.
[ they're strangers in passing, here and gone like a falling star, destined to burn up before making it into the atmosphere. the familiar song and dance that comes with every fleeting encounter in her lifeβnever allowing anyone to stay long enough to see past the bullshit. part of her fears she's the one to stay too long this time.
has the barrier slipped? ]
You lead the way. I don't remember the way out of here.
no subject
Oh no!
[This is all said and done prior to Dandy stepping in the direction of the door. He takes his place in front of her, so all that's visible is his own backside. And, yes, the duckbutt of the pompadour. God! He's still in his underwear, isn't he?]
With all the walkin' we're gonna be doing, water's bound to start drippin' all over the place! Then it'll just look like I broke your heart.
[*from the jacket, he means
His stroll, his pace, it's all a little too casual, considering what happened just moments earlier. He tilts his head from side to side while he walks, with a center of gravity that is somehow both crotch and hair-first, although it's clear he's not in a rush to usher Faye out.]
That's okay, baby.
[The joking lilt in Dandy's speech all but comes to a slow halt, tenderness creeping in. He seems to welcome it in slowly with an air of tangible nostalgia, ruminating on a silent thought. When they approach the door, he pops it open, still not turning to look at her.
In fact, the whole time he's been in motion, he hasn't glanced in Faye's direction even once.]
Whenever Beavis and Bot-head get back?
I'll just tell 'em you broke mine.
no subject
"i'll just tell 'em that you broke mine." his tenderness almost fools her. she knows it's a joke.
the door pops open and she immediately lowers her gaze to the floor, moving to slip around him. they brush shoulders on her way out. it wasn't the reason for her sudden pause though it might appear that way. she hovers in the doorway for what seems like forever. and then she turns, forcing him to look at her. ]
I know I never thanked you for this morning.
[ the food, the drinks, the company, letting her crash on the couch, and use the washer, and not be a total creep
the bar is so low....]So thank you.
no subject
THE BAR REALLY IS IN HELL!!!!His less than stellar misstep isn't really the kind that can be thrust aside, not in good faith. She'd be right to think of him as a dog, what with his empty head being filled to the brim with pervy fantasies. Each nearly anatomically inaccurate jiggle of the flesh serves a specific purpose, occupying the corners of his mind, each one a pretty distraction from the lonely reality of his meandering existence.
He's forced to look at her when their shoulders make contact. Forced to think that this is goodbye, and perhaps confront the notion that in the vast expanse that is the universe and its many alternate companions, this may always be the end result. Luckily or un-luckily enough for him, Dandy is stupid enough to believe otherwise and still have hope that things have the opportunity to be different one day.
Dandy utters a platitude that she's heard him say more than once in their time together. He tries to smile at her, but his brows are pressed together in a motion that conveys pain. The door that he holds open feels heavy.]
Don't worry about it.
[And so, he leans against the doorway.]
end!
instead, faye will just nod, and then turn and walk away. because there's nothing more to say, and no reason to look back, until she knows she's out of his sight for good. ]