#and i've always loved those blurbs and it's high time i return the favor

[misguidedasher]

an encounter, witnessed from the outside

Her starts the evening sitting alone, at first.

Though, the term alone would give the wrong impression. He may sit in solitude, but it’s worlds away from that of others who come to a place like this. Those people come to sit and drink and stew their solitude away, their singleness a beacon that broadcasts to the whole room. But when he sits alone, glass cradled delicately in his palm, he makes it look almost regal. He’s more of a lounging tiger than anything, happy to wait and watch the world go by, idly sharpening his claws but never putting them to use. There are other things he could be doing with his precious time, sure, but for now he’s content to be here.

And eventually, taking her sweet time, the reason for his waiting makes herself known.

The change in the room isn’t apparent when she first shows up. It never is, really.  But it occurs in stages, bodies slowly orienting themselves towards her, the air itself warming to her presence, until one can’t even remember a time before she was here. She’d make to be unaware of this so-called magic of hers, but it’d be a lie. The way she subtly assesses the room when she first enters is too calculating, too aware. It’s a habit of hers. It’s been ingrained into her for years.

As she makes her way through the space she takes note of those who notice her. A smile here, a knowing expression there. A hand nimbly unwinds the scarf around her neck in a practiced motion, as if she knows they’re all watching. And yet, she seems to have eyes for only one person. The crowd parts for her like water, only to find that she’s ignored them all for him.

He startles just a bit when she claps a hand to his shoulder in greeting, turning to face this strange new being that’s dared touch him. But when he recognizes her, everything melts. He grins, lazy predator to endeared puppy just like that, and – yes, really – moves to buss a kiss on the apple of her cheek. She accepts the gesture with the grace and patience of one reuniting with a particularly doting aunt. But it’s hard to miss the slight smile softening her features.

It’s all too easy to assume that the two are a couple, coming together at last after long day apart. But, no. Something about their energy doesn’t quite fit it, though it’s hard to place why. Perhaps it’s how they’ve oriented around each other: comfortable, but only in a way that’s been earned over the years.

Their reputations precede them both, yet no one in this dingy little pub will ever really know them as they’ve come to know each other. No one will see past the fronts they present to the world, to the soft messy ugly they’ve seen in each other. She’s aloof to the point of near emotionlessness. He takes his protective ways too far sometimes. They’ve seen a fair share of clashes. For every happy remark or good-natured eye roll, there’s been a scathing fight and a set of fresh tears.

And yet they’ve built their friendship from the ground up, knocked it down only to start building again. Their well-hidden bruises match too closely to turn away now, like two halves to a battered whole. They’ve found that they like life much better with each other in it, despite what they’d say if asked upfront. Some things are worth fighting for when you know you’ve a good fit.

They have, in one case literally, all but shed blood for each other. But one wouldn’t see that in the way he imparts some secret to her, head inclined towards hers as if they’re conniving spies on their own mission, and the way she laughs bright and clear in response.

And they vastly prefer it that way, thank you. Keeping what they have private makes them stronger together in a sense, quietly assures them that they can take whatever the grey world outside throws at them.

All at once she’s hopping up from her stool, declaring, “C’mon, I’m starving,” as if she wasn’t the one keeping him waiting. He makes no note of this, either out of knowing a useless argument when he sees one or simply not minding.

They gather their bearings and make to leave, sparking the attention of others once more. Even now it’s the little things that would snag in one’s brain, cause them to suddenly think back on them later on. Like the way she continues to glance over at him even as they walk, or the way he unconsciously veers her away from a rowdy gesticulating stranger with a hand at the small of her back. Turton and his girl, Asher and her gentle giant, off to wreak havoc elsewhere. The wonder that baffles them all.

The world steadily dims back to normal after they’ve departed. Conversations pick back up, while the air abruptly loses its breath of mystery. Like an unspoken spell has finally broken. But there’s no doubting the two have left their imprint on the night, even if in the most minute ways. They’ll do it once again when they return, here or anywhere else they choose to haunt in this city. Regardless of where they go, people will always be sure to find intrigue in the stoic hard-faced man and the dainty foul-mouthed woman, seemingly joined at the hip.

Though, they won’t find it in themselves to care. They’ll have each other instead, as always.