Obadiah lets himself in, and Howard doesn't bother with pretenses. There's no hello, no good to see you again, no how have you been. There is, instead, "What have you been telling my son?"
"Oh, just some stories about the good old days," Obadiah says, exhaling smoke and not bothering to aim for the cracked window. "You remember the good old days, don't you, Howard?"
Howard doesn't say anything right away, just sits and watches Obadiah with wariness in his eyes and absolutely nothing on his face. Then he moves, fast as he used to be, and snatches the cigarette out of Obadiah's hand. He takes a drag and then moves to toss it out the window. When he settles back down in the seat, his legs are almost touching Obadiah's, but his eyes and voice are jagged and what he says is, "Don't."
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branchandroot
WHAT IS THIS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW. WHERE IS MY BRAIN.
Date: 2008-06-19 05:20 pm (UTC)"Oh, just some stories about the good old days," Obadiah says, exhaling smoke and not bothering to aim for the cracked window. "You remember the good old days, don't you, Howard?"
Howard doesn't say anything right away, just sits and watches Obadiah with wariness in his eyes and absolutely nothing on his face. Then he moves, fast as he used to be, and snatches the cigarette out of Obadiah's hand. He takes a drag and then moves to toss it out the window. When he settles back down in the seat, his legs are almost touching Obadiah's, but his eyes and voice are jagged and what he says is, "Don't."