Resurface

Chapter Twelve: What makes him 'Tick'.

Hannah's POV-
I scrunched my eyes up in curiosity at the menu, not sure on what I wanted to get.

After Tick had offered to buy me food, I knew I was going to use his offer to my advantage. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"We will get," he stated, listing a couple items off the menu, ordering for both of us. The way he emphasised 'we' obviously told me that I didn't have a say. I looked at him, my lip stuck out in a pout.

"Can I get an ice cream too? Please." I dragged out the e, in an attempt to convince him. He sighed and muttered to the cashier for a cone dipped in chocolate. My eyes widened in delight, my smile stretched bigger.

We sat down in a booth next to the window, giving us a full landscape view off the crappy freeway. Lovely.

I reached for the twenty count chicken nugget, grabbing a couple from the container. I gobbled them down with a sudden sense of hunger I didn't know that I possessed, realising how long it had been since I'd consumed a substantial amount of food.

Reaching for more, his eyes met mine. Curiously, he offered me the large container of fries, his lips in a smirk. I didn't hesitate to take them from him, nodding a quick thanks before shovelling a fistful of fries into my mouth.

I swallowed and looked over at him. He was chuckling to himself as he took a sip of his Coke. I cocked my head at him, "What?"

He snickered, "You eat like a pig." He looked a me slyly, assuming that I would be offended. I shrugged and put another nugget in my mouth chewing thoughtfully.

"Well, the last time I had this much food was..." I trailed off when I saw his expression. Looking away, I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."

I saw pity in his eyes. Something I hated. After getting food and transportation from him, I didn't need anything else.

"So 'Tick'," I started, using my fingers to quote his name in question. "Why's your hair white?"

It wasn't that I wanted to get buddy buddy with this guy, it's just that I wanted to change the subject. It made me cringe at the mention of the past. Although, I knew that we'd probably be stuck together for a while. Until I could find some other form of transportation at least. Looking at him expectantly, his forehead creased together.

"Marie Antoinette syndrome. You wouldn't have heard of it." He looked away, his eyes darkening. I only shook my head, surprised to hear it wasn't dyed.

"It's caused by severe amounts of stress, sorrow and fear, or fits of rage." He said darkly, his voice very monotonous. That made me sit up a little more in my chair. What kind of whacko had I decided to travel with?

As if reading my thoughts, he shook is head and sighed. "Please don't look at me like I'm a serial killer. I promise I only eat breakfast not stab it," he winked. I choked on the fry in my mouth, my squeaky laughter erupting out of my mouth. I felt tears forming at the corners of my eyes as I attempted to swallow the French fry. Atticus grinned at my struggle and awkwardly patted my back as I painfully swallowed my food.

"That wasn't even that funny," I gasped, wiping tears from my eyes.

He rolled his eyes at me, his hand still on my back. "Tell that to those tears," he said pointedly.

"I promise you my eyes just decided to sweat at this coincidental moment. Swear it," I said sarcastically at him, leaning into him.

His smell hit my nose like a bombshell, dark espresso and the sickly, strong smell of men's cologne. He was comfortingly warm, his tee-shirt soft on my cheek. I sighed as a wave of relaxation filled my body, enjoying this sudden sense of security this random stranger was giving me.