Post by Bái Yan Láng on Nov 2, 2021 15:55:47 GMT -8
It was warm. Hong Kong was always what Josh would call warm, but this was a heat that lived under his skin. He felt it climb up his neck to stain his cheeks, burning around his empty throat.
Embarrassment.
Anger.
Helplessness.
Josh curled his fingers into fists, tightening the gesture until his muscles strained, and only then releasing them. Repeating the gesture brought some measure of thought back -- kept him from boiling over like a tea kettle gone overlong.
Fuck, but he hated Quincy. So goddamn arrogant. So sure of themselves and their ‘purpose’. (Who the fuck said stuff like ‘clout,’ anyway?)
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed – catching himself on the inhale before he dragged in too much air. “’cuz bringing up something you’d be ‘shocked’ for people to know is always my go-to conversation starter too.”
Josh wished she’d taken a swing at him. Hell, even calling on her freakish powers would’ve been understandable if not very fun for him. He didn’t know what to do with this weird middle ground, the way Idiot-Tourist just ignored his taunts.
Pebbles disinterred by his boots shifting plunked their way down the hill. Josh tensed in what might otherwise be known as a flinch at the sound.
His nails dug into the deep callouses on his palms, forearm muscles flexing, an ache beginning to build up when Josh relaxed his grip.
“Look, do you know where you’re going or not?” Josh ground out, feeling like the girl’d sucker-punched him in the gut when she went for her goddamn phone like there was no point in keeping an eye on him.
Why was she asking what he was if she already knew he couldn’t do a damn thing to her?
“I’m the guy with the shitty luck who’s gotta get you to your destination. Let’s leave it at that."
"And maybe hurry it up with your google maps or whatever, we shouldn’t be cooling our heels this close to the ‘scene of the crime’.” He had tried, to get that all out with a level if not friendly tone, but the last bit came naturally – another attempt at needling, at drawing out the outrage or anger he’d seen from her earlier.
The sort of reaction that made sense.
Embarrassment.
Anger.
Helplessness.
Josh curled his fingers into fists, tightening the gesture until his muscles strained, and only then releasing them. Repeating the gesture brought some measure of thought back -- kept him from boiling over like a tea kettle gone overlong.
Fuck, but he hated Quincy. So goddamn arrogant. So sure of themselves and their ‘purpose’. (Who the fuck said stuff like ‘clout,’ anyway?)
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed – catching himself on the inhale before he dragged in too much air. “’cuz bringing up something you’d be ‘shocked’ for people to know is always my go-to conversation starter too.”
Josh wished she’d taken a swing at him. Hell, even calling on her freakish powers would’ve been understandable if not very fun for him. He didn’t know what to do with this weird middle ground, the way Idiot-Tourist just ignored his taunts.
Pebbles disinterred by his boots shifting plunked their way down the hill. Josh tensed in what might otherwise be known as a flinch at the sound.
His nails dug into the deep callouses on his palms, forearm muscles flexing, an ache beginning to build up when Josh relaxed his grip.
“Look, do you know where you’re going or not?” Josh ground out, feeling like the girl’d sucker-punched him in the gut when she went for her goddamn phone like there was no point in keeping an eye on him.
Why was she asking what he was if she already knew he couldn’t do a damn thing to her?
“I’m the guy with the shitty luck who’s gotta get you to your destination. Let’s leave it at that."
"And maybe hurry it up with your google maps or whatever, we shouldn’t be cooling our heels this close to the ‘scene of the crime’.” He had tried, to get that all out with a level if not friendly tone, but the last bit came naturally – another attempt at needling, at drawing out the outrage or anger he’d seen from her earlier.
The sort of reaction that made sense.