Beginning, loosely
Sep. 21st, 2004 03:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
green_dreamsWorking on the general theory that dammit, if I start writing, I'll at least get more done than I would if I never did...
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Darkness rose in the east.
Angela Paxton looked out the window and shuddered. Sleet. She was *sure* it was going to be sleet. The clouds were massing over the sunset, and the light was managing to be both red and cold. Beautiful effect, but a bad sign for the upcoming drive.
She kicked the bathroom door once more. "*Danny!*"
"I'm coming!" His voice sounded muffled through the cheap pressboard oor.
"We're going to be late!"
"We will not be--" He opened the door. His eyes met her glare, and then followed the angry jab of her finger to the crystal of her watch. "Oh."
"Oh. Right. 'Oh'." Angela went to the door and began lacing up her boots. Danny followed, looking guiltily back at the sky, and smoothing his shirt.
"I didn't realize I'd taken that long."
"Yeah, well..." Angela yanked her laces closed and whipped them into a bow. "But you did. And we are going to be late if we don't go now."
"I'm ready. I'm--eh. Ange?"
She looked up to see him standing awkwardly in the middle of the cheap living room. Battered sofa, musted glasses, scarred end table. A light dusting of old receipts, torn bags, and a forsaken sock clustered around the edges of the room. In the middle of it stood her brother, wearing a black shirt and matching jeans that were still stiff from the store. His hair was black and clean, and she supposed that someone who didn't know him might not immediately guess that it was long enough to curl loosely around his ears and neck because he hadn't gotten around to visiting the barber, not because he'd made an effort to grow it. He'd broken out of his usual slouch, but the the tension that drew his shoulders up and in wasn't much of an improvement.
"You look fine." He looked alright. Very clean. Thank god she had managed to convince him to take off the eyeliner. Telling him that the makeup made it look like he was trying too hard was enough, and she'd kept to herself the detail that it also made him look like he was four years younger, belonged nowhere near a club, and trying to pass for a panda. "Here. Get your belt, okay?"
"It's old--"
"Trust me. Get your belt, get Mark's old jacket, and let's get out of here." Angela shot another look at the sky. The clouds were snarling up fast, stringing grey tendrils and knots across the horizon and down the sky towards Chelmsford. "That's going to be hell to drive in."
"It didn't look that bad this afternoon," Danny said from his room.
"It wasn't that bad this afternoon."
"We can outdrive it."
"Still not going to make getting back any fun."
"Oh." Danny came out with a battered belt threaded around his waist and an equally battered jacket in one hand, both made out of black leather. It cut the store-new specially-bought appearance of his clothes down somewhat. Tiny details, probably wouldn't make much of a difference even if he *did* make an impression, but ne'er let it be said that Angela would sabotage her baby brother's attempts to woo and win fair maiden. He did enough of that on his own.
She shot a final look out the window as she opened the door, and then they were out of the flat and down the stairs and headed for the car.
========
Darkness rose in the east.
Angela Paxton looked out the window and shuddered. Sleet. She was *sure* it was going to be sleet. The clouds were massing over the sunset, and the light was managing to be both red and cold. Beautiful effect, but a bad sign for the upcoming drive.
She kicked the bathroom door once more. "*Danny!*"
"I'm coming!" His voice sounded muffled through the cheap pressboard oor.
"We're going to be late!"
"We will not be--" He opened the door. His eyes met her glare, and then followed the angry jab of her finger to the crystal of her watch. "Oh."
"Oh. Right. 'Oh'." Angela went to the door and began lacing up her boots. Danny followed, looking guiltily back at the sky, and smoothing his shirt.
"I didn't realize I'd taken that long."
"Yeah, well..." Angela yanked her laces closed and whipped them into a bow. "But you did. And we are going to be late if we don't go now."
"I'm ready. I'm--eh. Ange?"
She looked up to see him standing awkwardly in the middle of the cheap living room. Battered sofa, musted glasses, scarred end table. A light dusting of old receipts, torn bags, and a forsaken sock clustered around the edges of the room. In the middle of it stood her brother, wearing a black shirt and matching jeans that were still stiff from the store. His hair was black and clean, and she supposed that someone who didn't know him might not immediately guess that it was long enough to curl loosely around his ears and neck because he hadn't gotten around to visiting the barber, not because he'd made an effort to grow it. He'd broken out of his usual slouch, but the the tension that drew his shoulders up and in wasn't much of an improvement.
"You look fine." He looked alright. Very clean. Thank god she had managed to convince him to take off the eyeliner. Telling him that the makeup made it look like he was trying too hard was enough, and she'd kept to herself the detail that it also made him look like he was four years younger, belonged nowhere near a club, and trying to pass for a panda. "Here. Get your belt, okay?"
"It's old--"
"Trust me. Get your belt, get Mark's old jacket, and let's get out of here." Angela shot another look at the sky. The clouds were snarling up fast, stringing grey tendrils and knots across the horizon and down the sky towards Chelmsford. "That's going to be hell to drive in."
"It didn't look that bad this afternoon," Danny said from his room.
"It wasn't that bad this afternoon."
"We can outdrive it."
"Still not going to make getting back any fun."
"Oh." Danny came out with a battered belt threaded around his waist and an equally battered jacket in one hand, both made out of black leather. It cut the store-new specially-bought appearance of his clothes down somewhat. Tiny details, probably wouldn't make much of a difference even if he *did* make an impression, but ne'er let it be said that Angela would sabotage her baby brother's attempts to woo and win fair maiden. He did enough of that on his own.
She shot a final look out the window as she opened the door, and then they were out of the flat and down the stairs and headed for the car.
