She laughed at his comment before directing her gaze elsewhere. Alice didn’t find it comforting that anyone could be hiding in the darkness but if someone tried to attacked them she’d just run and leave Matthew to them. It wouldn’t be a huge loss for him to die. “Sweetheart, I’m usually ten times worse. You’re lucky you haven’t seen that side of me…yet.” If he thought he was going to scare her off it wasn’t going to work. Picking on him at three am was her only source of entertainment. Coffee only went so far, not that she’d admit that to anyone.
The playground was only receiving light from the street lamps. It wan’t much and only barley covered the park. The rest was focused on the street and sidewalks. Alice debated leaving the swings and finding some other part of the structure to sit on, farther away from him but didn’t want to leave the swings. They were her favourite and if he was sick of her company then he could leave. “I can’t guarantee I won’t go mental on you unless you promise not to be an asshole. These claws will scratch eyes out.” She put her hand out to prove her point.
Her attention turned back to Matthew when he started speaking. She almost sighed in relief. He clearly wasn’t very good at being conversational. Maybe she’d have better luck with the TV programme. “Coffee isn’t stupid at any time.” If this was his idea of conversation it was terrible. “Exactly. Keep your unsolicited opinions to yourself.” She scowled at him, not even sure if he was paying attention to her. At least the scowl made her feel better. She didn’t really care about him or his annoying persona.
There was a sudden urge to run up the hill yelling for Trivium to get him — or just to wait for a car to hit him. That, he realized as he stared at the moody redhead infront of her, would’ve been the easy and less troubling path. And a extreme action, if he stopped to think about it carefully. The girl’s attitude was certainly something else, and it had bothered him from day one. Matt would’ve thought of her as attractive if he hadn’t heard her talk the way she did.
But as much as he wanted to either go suicidal or simply leave, he didn’t dare to leave her to her luck alone. Besides, his curiosity was getting the best of him. For how long would they be able to keep a chill conversation before one of them lost it? It was almost a competition by this point. And there was a reason why she acted that way, and he also wanted to know that. But something told him that would be to try his luck. “Yet,” he repeated. “I’ll take your word this time, but I don’t see how can you get any worse.”
He snorted. In another life, Alice was probably a cat. Matt thought of it as fitting, as she moved her hand and spoke about claws. Every aspect of her personality reminded him of the little animals. Her love for coffee, comparable to the one the little felines were supposed to have for milk; she was arrogant and only seemed to like things when they went her way. He knew better and didn’t share his thoughts out loud. That was the smart thing to do. “I am not an asshole,” he pointed out, even though he had probably acted like one at least once. It was mostly because of how she was, though. “But it’s good to know you’ve got a weapon. Would that work against a serial killer, though?” That was very unlikely.
His blue eyes wandered around the park, still unsure if he actually wanted to try to have a conversation. Maybe it would be better to just silently sit there until one of them decided to head back home. Wouldn’t that be easy. “Coffee is not healthy and it will keep you up at night. Normal people want to sleep,” he mumbled. Letting out a deep sigh he rested his head against the cold metal of the swing’s chains. “Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.”
Day one hundred and three, my mom still doesn’t understand what a Vine is. Not sure if it’s great that she doesn’t see my shit, or if it’s disappointing because she doesn’t get to see how famous I am.
Yeah, but this is America and we don’t call people wankers, we call them cunts, which is what you are.
It’s volunteer work. I love what I do.
No, I lack the vagina. We don’t call them wankers or cunts either, we call them Fotze, but you certainly would only use “american” slang instead of expanding your vocabulary, even for such things.
Good, I’ll make sure to give you a cent or two for enthusiasm.
You have the dumbest last name ever. Anyone who hears it and doesn’t remember is an idiot. And to be honest, you’re not all that memorable in the first place.
Good, that means I’m doing my job right.
Watkins is quite similar to Wanker so it’s not that hard to remember, either, specially after seeing your wonderful personality. I’m quite memorable, thank you very much.
Not a job if you don’t get paid for it, but I’m glad you enjoy yourself.