Wearing fur had always seemed like a matter of vanity before, superiority. A pointed gesture, at home, and tasteless on top of it. He watches his fingers bury themselves in the dense fur of the coat. The parka, that's what Francis calls it. It hurts, a little, against the fingertips that'd been holding that can. He buries his fingers a little deeper, realising he's doing it because it's soft. He thinks it might be softer than anything he's ever felt. And warmer. He remembers opening his eyes after a long and terrible night and seeing what's in his hands resting over him, and watching Francis' back as he walked away.
Francis is saying something. He's been saying something. Raju looks up.
Whatever it was, it'd been something about box cars. If that's where Francis wants to go, that's where they'll go. Then Francis nods him forward, so Raju walks. Unthinkingly, he settles his stride close enough to Francis to press their arms together, looking at the fur in his hands and then over at Francis' hand, at the tin can in it.
"I'll need that," he says, after a moment of looking at it. His voice is brisk and efficient, matter of fact and flat. "There's no sense in ruining anything else."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-06-08 12:10 pm (UTC)Francis is saying something. He's been saying something. Raju looks up.
Whatever it was, it'd been something about box cars. If that's where Francis wants to go, that's where they'll go. Then Francis nods him forward, so Raju walks. Unthinkingly, he settles his stride close enough to Francis to press their arms together, looking at the fur in his hands and then over at Francis' hand, at the tin can in it.
"I'll need that," he says, after a moment of looking at it. His voice is brisk and efficient, matter of fact and flat. "There's no sense in ruining anything else."