Dents

[+] Souk Eye

February crept in with a leisurely pace.

The weather was piercing. The forecast was clear and the sun shinned vividly upon the heather grey sky. A crow cawed tirelessly, perched alone on a single telephone wire hanging perilously low to the trees lining the roadside. Save for the solitary bird's lamentations and the gentle crunching of the snow beneath our feet, the streets were silent. 

2D picked me up from the townhouse after he met with Father Merrin, insisting that he had plans for us today.

Cars sped by, stirring up a gust of wind that whipped past us. The buildings surrounding us gradually became taller as we walked deeper into town. Above our heads in one of the apartments, someone had their window open. I heard the soft clinking of ceramic and the flow of running water. Being that we were only passerby, that someone became irrelevant as soon as I could no longer hear them.

A very distinguishable bridge came into view before us. There were large black patches where artwork had once been. Brand new words and images were spray-painted on top of those.

Seeing that overpass, I realized exactly where we were headed.

2D held me under his arm so tightly that we had to time our strides together to keep from stumbling unsteadily. My hands were freezing. I stuffed one of them into my pocket, running my fingers along the plushy fabric of the coat he and Russel had purchased for me. I stuck the other hand into 2D's pocket.

He smirked, a small crack forming in his bottom lip. They had chapped a little from the frigid climate.

"Wha'? Coat's not warm enough?"

"Oh no," I responded, "My coat's plenty warm. I just like yours better."

"Wanna trade?" He lifted an eyebrow, curious.

I giggled at him.

"Nope. It's better because you're wearing it."

His cheeks were rosy. Whether it was from the cold or my straightforwardness was anyone's guess.

As I anticipated, we soon stood in front of the old cottage doors to the quaint café we visited shortly before Murdoc's arrest. The stoop had been swept clean of the snowfall earlier that morning. A faint glow emanated from the shop windows.

I was pleased to find that they'd booked a different band than the one we'd seen when we came before. As entertaining as that whimsical niche of jazz was, I was in the mood for something different. A folk singer with a straw hat was set on the stage bellowing out a tune about nothing in particular.

2D approached the register and purchased a couple hot chocolates for us. The charity being supported this week was called 'The Foundation in the Interest of Legalizing the Act of Frightening Pigeons Native to the Boston Area.' He dropped a few singles into the jar without bothering to read what it said.

We listened to the singer warble through his refrain. It went on for a while. The guy was completely tone-deaf, though the performance was engaging regardless. Somehow, it wasn't that far off from the display of a drunken man telling a tall tale of bravado to some gullible chaps at the pub down the block. In fact, that may have been the best part about it.

We sat at the table closest to the stage toward the center. The folk singer's story ended not long after. 2D stood up. His chair squealed unpleasantly against the varnished wood floors.

He smiled at me with a knowing look. A wave of heat ran down my spine. The confident expression plastered on his face had me excited for what he'd do next.

He winked.

It was so exaggerated that he actually made himself twitch and ended up winking at me twice. It was charming in the way that only he would be capable of making it. I was in stitches.