Characters: Vincent, Shelke (so far)
A beginning - and very short - scene for a potential chapter fic. Me testing the waters, so to speak. May or may not progress past this point.
Across the dining room table, Shelke hands him a small piece of paper with an address written on it, not looking at him as she does this. Her mouth is a straight line drawn from one cheek to the other, her gaze pointedly fixed to the window on the opposite side of the room. As he takes the slip, she heaves a sigh, crosses one thin leg over the other, and gives him a sideways look from under her eyelashes.
"This is for you, too," he interprets the sigh and replies to it quietly, glancing at the paper before tucking it into a pocket, the words already memorised.
"I am perfectly fine." Shelke never
snaps unless she has to - it makes her sound like Lucrecia. For a moment her mouth stays open, more thoughts grazing the tip of her tongue, but she bites her lower lip, squares her small shoulders, and looks down again with a frown.
He takes his jacket and passes by her seat on his way to the door. She watches his movements silently, the fluidity with which he drapes the long, black garment over his broad shoulders and leaves both sleeves hanging. He steps over the cables snaking across the carpet, reaches for the door, and one foot is outside before he pauses in motion. Tiptoes back to where she remains sitting, a pensive doll; bends down, brushes her fringe aside and places a kiss on her forehead.
"Thank you," he says. Turns up the corners of his mouth in what is not a smile. Drifts to the exit, and the door closes softly behind him.
Shelke continues to stare straight ahead. After a while, she draws her feet up onto the chair, folds her hands over her knees, and places her chin on top.
"You are a bastard, Vincent Valentine." The murmur contains feeling, but lacks conviction. Just like all her days together with him.