Avdotya drew near enough that Raymond could feel the electric quality of her restrained fury like a current through a closed circuit. Her hot breath painted his ear with words that perhaps she hoped would shake him. Do not think for a moment that I give a fuck about others and their values.
They did shake him, though far from the way she probably intended. The sharp angles of his face blossomed into a grin and he threw back his head slightly in a genuine, full-bodied laugh - as though she had whispered flirtatious nothings into his ear, rather than a hissed rebuke.
Raymond had not wasted a fraction of a heartbeat thinking that Avdotya cared for anyone but herself (or that she cared to cultivate such a perception, in fact). If she did care, would she have been gloating smugly in the corner as though she'd placed the boulders herself?
Of course not.
But debates are not won against fanatics in a single bout, and if the dark mare fancied herself the victor by accusing him of presumptions he never held, then he would grant her the sound night's sleep as a consolation prize for making it so long without once trying to stab him with that spear of hers. "I wouldn't dream of it, my friend," he replied over his shoulder, still either unable or unwilling to contain his mirth. Avdotya's smile had died with her last retort; Raymond's did not, for anything heavy enough to be taken seriously deserved more than a little laughter, and laughter weighs far more heavily on the mind than a frown.
Let her stalk away, thinking herself the victor in a court of public opinion that entirely lacked a public capable of holding an opinion. They would meet again; Raymond was certain of it.
They did shake him, though far from the way she probably intended. The sharp angles of his face blossomed into a grin and he threw back his head slightly in a genuine, full-bodied laugh - as though she had whispered flirtatious nothings into his ear, rather than a hissed rebuke.
Raymond had not wasted a fraction of a heartbeat thinking that Avdotya cared for anyone but herself (or that she cared to cultivate such a perception, in fact). If she did care, would she have been gloating smugly in the corner as though she'd placed the boulders herself?
Of course not.
But debates are not won against fanatics in a single bout, and if the dark mare fancied herself the victor by accusing him of presumptions he never held, then he would grant her the sound night's sleep as a consolation prize for making it so long without once trying to stab him with that spear of hers. "I wouldn't dream of it, my friend," he replied over his shoulder, still either unable or unwilling to contain his mirth. Avdotya's smile had died with her last retort; Raymond's did not, for anything heavy enough to be taken seriously deserved more than a little laughter, and laughter weighs far more heavily on the mind than a frown.
Let her stalk away, thinking herself the victor in a court of public opinion that entirely lacked a public capable of holding an opinion. They would meet again; Raymond was certain of it.
Raymond.
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
@Avdotya; fin. That was fun!
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
