not_that_spike: (lighter)
[personal profile] not_that_spike
The light from the TV set is the only light on in the room; the volume's all the way down. Seven Samurai plays, scenes interspersed with subtitles, but he's not really paying attention. That's because across the room, in her basket, one princess is fast asleep.

By the black-and-white-and-gray light, he studies Beth: her profile, the curve of her shoulders, the glint in her eyes punctuated by the television's flickering. He's got one hand on the small of her back and a cigarette between his lips, but he's not going to smoke it in here. He's not going to smoke it at all; it's just to have it there out of habit. He's stretched out watching her, occasionally glancing at the movie. Last time they did this, she had a baby.

If he's sure of only one thing, it's that the same thing isn't going to happen tonight.

Love you, Slim. If he could, he'd send the thought to her right through the palm of his hand. For all he knows, she feels it anyway.

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June 2009

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