[ Michael doesn't react, when Mary Eunice plays up how shocked she is by his terrible news, but he feels his heart miss a beat and his spirit start to soar nevertheless. She doesn't know him, but she's being kind, and that alone is enough to chip away at his cautious paranoia and plant a sense of hope in him. Maybe she'll take an interest in him. Maybe she'll take as much of an interest in him as he's starting to take in her. Maybe this matters.
She tilts his chin up and holds eye contact, and Michael does his best to stay glassy eyed and impenetrable. He lacks resistance but he's static, just letting her stare through him and examine him and learn the things about him that he doesn't even know himself. The rot that he's made of, the brimstone that boils him. The death that he smells of and the blood that he's shed. For a second, Michael succeeds, staying passive and expressionless as if trying to hide the thing in him that made the priest start chanting, but soon enough, he feels warmth in his cheeks and presses his lips tight like he's trying to hide a smile. She keeps looking at him like he's important. She keeps listening to him, being nice. He likes that. ]
You don't seem very crotchety.
[ Just don't start quoting latin at me sits on the very tip of his tongue, but he thinks better of saying it. Even if she's making him smile, this woman's a nun - having a free spirit and a willingness to break the rules a little doesn't change that. She probably learned how to lead an exorcism while popping hershey's kisses with the other nuns and giggling about how bad she was for not paying attention. Michael likes her, but he's still afraid of what she can do, and he doesn't want to give her any reason to treat him like something that needs to be burned away.
He pulls away from her, just a little, but he's still stuck in her orbit. He wanders back to the food and looks longingly at some of the desserts they have stacked on top of each other, and he looks at Mary Eunice like he's asking for permission to take something. He's - also curious, tilting his head again as he watches her, trying to ask what he wants to ask. ]
Why was she mean to you? Did you do something, or was that just who she was?
no subject
She tilts his chin up and holds eye contact, and Michael does his best to stay glassy eyed and impenetrable. He lacks resistance but he's static, just letting her stare through him and examine him and learn the things about him that he doesn't even know himself. The rot that he's made of, the brimstone that boils him. The death that he smells of and the blood that he's shed. For a second, Michael succeeds, staying passive and expressionless as if trying to hide the thing in him that made the priest start chanting, but soon enough, he feels warmth in his cheeks and presses his lips tight like he's trying to hide a smile. She keeps looking at him like he's important. She keeps listening to him, being nice. He likes that. ]
You don't seem very crotchety.
[ Just don't start quoting latin at me sits on the very tip of his tongue, but he thinks better of saying it. Even if she's making him smile, this woman's a nun - having a free spirit and a willingness to break the rules a little doesn't change that. She probably learned how to lead an exorcism while popping hershey's kisses with the other nuns and giggling about how bad she was for not paying attention. Michael likes her, but he's still afraid of what she can do, and he doesn't want to give her any reason to treat him like something that needs to be burned away.
He pulls away from her, just a little, but he's still stuck in her orbit. He wanders back to the food and looks longingly at some of the desserts they have stacked on top of each other, and he looks at Mary Eunice like he's asking for permission to take something. He's - also curious, tilting his head again as he watches her, trying to ask what he wants to ask. ]
Why was she mean to you? Did you do something, or was that just who she was?