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cloakandclaw) wrote2007-12-12 06:46 pm
cloakandclaw) wrote2007-12-12 06:46 pm
A Memory
"Vincent."
"Yes?" He hears the snap of a switch and music floods the room: Lucrecia's turned on the radio. Still, he doesn't look at her yet: his job is protection, not singing or listening to music, and there are some people he doesn't recognize outside the window. If they're any kind of threat they'll have to be eliminated and...
"Dance with me."
He can feel her hand on his shoulder; she turns him to face her. He's taller and so there's a discrepancy here: it's his job to serve her and that makes her the boss, but physically he's larger and that gives him a subtle advantage, a little bit of unquestionable power. It's uneven; it doesn't match their assignments. When he looks down at her now his brows knit together in consternation; he starts to back away.
"What? No… no, I can't dance."
This is impossible: she has to know how he feels by now and yet she persists in tormenting him in this exquisite fashion? Again, he backs away, shaking his head.
"So you don't like me." She pouts and... he's not sure what to do with that. Of course he likes her. He loves her, even; her words cut too deeply and he can't tell if she's toying with him or if she's being serious. They're too close: only distance serves to clear his mind when she's around.
"No, that's not what I--"
"Then dance with me." She's as insistent with this as she is with her research; one hand finds his shoulder again and the other sets his fingers in place on her waist before finding his other hand and holding it aloft. There's a respectable distance -- fortunately -- between them; he knows if he were to close his eyes, the distance would diminish and he'd be unable to force himself away from her and he can see where it will lead: he'll lose his job and worse, never see her again, never talk to her again, never...
It's with eyes open but focused on a spot just past her that he lets her lead him through the dance. He's terrible at it; it's not comfortable for him. But because it makes Lucrecia happy -- and because she's in charge and he's obliged to do what she requests -- he dances with her. It's awkward and he stumbles a bit at first, almost like a child taking its first hesitant steps.
"See, it isn't that bad, is it." There's mirth in her eyes. If she's mocking him, he doesn't mind. All he knows is that she's finally in his arms -- after a fashion -- and slowly, slowly, he inches closer.
But not too close. He knows to keep that requisite distance between them not just now, but at all times.
Until she wants it to be different.
"Yes?" He hears the snap of a switch and music floods the room: Lucrecia's turned on the radio. Still, he doesn't look at her yet: his job is protection, not singing or listening to music, and there are some people he doesn't recognize outside the window. If they're any kind of threat they'll have to be eliminated and...
"Dance with me."
He can feel her hand on his shoulder; she turns him to face her. He's taller and so there's a discrepancy here: it's his job to serve her and that makes her the boss, but physically he's larger and that gives him a subtle advantage, a little bit of unquestionable power. It's uneven; it doesn't match their assignments. When he looks down at her now his brows knit together in consternation; he starts to back away.
"What? No… no, I can't dance."
This is impossible: she has to know how he feels by now and yet she persists in tormenting him in this exquisite fashion? Again, he backs away, shaking his head.
"So you don't like me." She pouts and... he's not sure what to do with that. Of course he likes her. He loves her, even; her words cut too deeply and he can't tell if she's toying with him or if she's being serious. They're too close: only distance serves to clear his mind when she's around.
"No, that's not what I--"
"Then dance with me." She's as insistent with this as she is with her research; one hand finds his shoulder again and the other sets his fingers in place on her waist before finding his other hand and holding it aloft. There's a respectable distance -- fortunately -- between them; he knows if he were to close his eyes, the distance would diminish and he'd be unable to force himself away from her and he can see where it will lead: he'll lose his job and worse, never see her again, never talk to her again, never...
It's with eyes open but focused on a spot just past her that he lets her lead him through the dance. He's terrible at it; it's not comfortable for him. But because it makes Lucrecia happy -- and because she's in charge and he's obliged to do what she requests -- he dances with her. It's awkward and he stumbles a bit at first, almost like a child taking its first hesitant steps.
"See, it isn't that bad, is it." There's mirth in her eyes. If she's mocking him, he doesn't mind. All he knows is that she's finally in his arms -- after a fashion -- and slowly, slowly, he inches closer.
But not too close. He knows to keep that requisite distance between them not just now, but at all times.
Until she wants it to be different.