Post by Austin Callahan on Sept 8, 2013 14:39:05 GMT -6
Of course, he had difficulty in believing her protests about not being able to share a part of her inner secrets about him, for fear of him suddenly falling over dead. One, because he didn't believe that she'd truly regret his absence, but the second reason was strangely the complete opposite of the first - it wasn't in her, as he perceived her, to wish him dead, even if she felt inclined to do so in the moments she found him innately irritating. "You'll understand if I find that to be a lie, Conelly. I think... you find me to be addictive, to the extent you'd miss me not being here, if I wasn't. Is there anyone else you know that matches me point-to-point?" She could argue certain aspects of his personality could be found in any teenage boy, but then there was actually more to his character than he usually let on to the general populous. And, even if teenagers were prone to acting like he did, was there anyone truly who'd replace him in her mind? He seriously doubted this, but then he was infamous for being self-obsessed, amongst many other things.
The same could be said for her. Although he could sit there and make numerous claims about who and what could replace anything he saw in her, he knew he'd be lying. And lying wasn't something he liked to do, even to save face in awkward, or undesirable situations. There was something there, something that he couldn't exactly pinpoint, something about her especially was there that wasn't there in other girls. Whilst he wasn't averse to the company of other females, this unspecified thing that had frequently drawn him to the pale skin of Beatrix Conelly could not be found elsewhere and it was this fact that confused him, but yet entertained him. How fitting it was that the girl that always reacted so wonderfully to his jibes, his constant mockery of her activities, was the one girl that he received the most inner satisfaction at being amongst.
In these times, however, the same girl was more than comfortable to fight back. It was just a small shame on her part that she didn't seem to possess as much intimate knowledge about him as he pretended to know about her. But, despite his best efforts, it appeared that she might be closer to retrieving the valuable information that she might have set out to discover, through their shared drunkenness and ill-guided intentions. For instance, he'd now played over their previous interactions and been a little startled at how easily she'd managed to coax seemingly insignificant facts out of her, without him even considering the consequences that might succeed such admissions. The fact that he disliked his intolerance for alcohol, while true and of no importance, it concerned him to realise that he'd even let something like this slip into conversation. He didn't feel the need to confide in anyone else about his drinking habits, but he'd done so to a girl that he didn't share a close personal attachment to and a girl that he would rather not share private details with.
Almost as soon as he'd realised his concern at this evident mistake, he'd shortly forgotten it. Forgotten the mistake, in addition to failing to remember that he'd originally noticed himself making the aforementioned error, leaving it to soak up the atmosphere and potentially stick in her addled mind. In fairness to his changed state of his own mind, it may have been the interlude between his observation and the demanding tone of the girl comfortably close to his own skin that led him to overlook the previous drunken ramblings of earlier moments. Even now, she was demanding and shout-y. He noted that she inherently had this problem with lowering his voice, but then perhaps it was merely an effect for his benefit alone, after hearing too many arrogant remarks leave his mouth. Personally, he'd laugh at anyone who tried to blame him for her foul moods on alternate days, simply seeing it as yet another oddity pertaining to what he often labeled as her 'intermittent insanity.'
"Yes," he replied, his breath rising with the increased contact between their bodies once again, each drug-fueled touch bringing a stronger sense of bliss to his messed-up mind. "Wants are preferable to any dreams, or hope, because wanting can be so easily... satisfied. Fulfilled. What more is there?" He found himself once again caring less and less about what she was saying, and ironically, from the snippets of what she seemed to ranting about now, wanting more. Craving more, just as he said. The more he saw, the more he touched, each spark of ecstasy shooting through his veins, made him want her more than he could anticipate, producing an ache in his system he needed to extinguish. He didn't think to wonder why she'd suddenly be wanting, or whatever her preferred definition was, him also. Such thoughts rarely occurred to him, not being the most considerate person in everyday life, but even less so when he was painfully close to the thing he now wanted eminently. "So, tell me, Beatrix. Have we finished playing twenty questions now?"