“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Real fucking funny, you dick.” Darlene downed the can of soda in record time, half tempted to toss the empty can across the room in hopes that it would end up pegging John right in the head — but she hadn’t really done much physical activity since she’d gotten out of high school and it was likely to be more of an embarrassment than a success. And Darlene didn’t need to give him any more ammo than he already had, her freaking out about the entire girlfriend thing was more than enough for her. “He usually looks better, he’s had a rough couple of months.” Darlene had always felt this need to protect Elliot — whether it be in the physical sense, which she hadn’t had to do any time recently, or from some little shit who the other had oh-so-graciously let freeload on his couch for who knew how long.
Call it some kind of sibling instinct, probably in the same way that twins claim they could feel when something happened to one another, regular siblings had to have something close to that to, right?
And even if the statement was supposed to be taken as a compliment in some convoluted way, Darlene didn’t have any current interest in seventeen year old boys sleeping on her brother’s couch. Especially not when they were smartass bastards.
“I know, you said that already. I’m not deaf, I’m just covering all my bases here. If Elliot has got some barely legal boytoy living in his house, I’d at least start knocking before I come in.” She moved through the kitchen, rifling though cabinets in search of something to snack on and only coming up with more expired food. “God, how the hell is he feeding you? Tell me that you aren’t eating anything that’s in this place. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna find him as a rotting skeleton and I’ll be an only child. Eugh. Whatever.” Giving up, Darlene crossed the room to sit in the only other chair that occupied the living room — if it could even be called that. More of a living space, than anything else. — legs crossed at the knee, her foot swinging idly back and forth.
“So, what’s your story? Why the whole living on the street deal? And why here? This neighborhood is shit, there wasn’t a place somewhere on the Upper East Side that you could’ve claimed?” If she couldn’t find out about him through her usual means, she’d have to try the old fashioned way. Actually asking.
no subject
Call it some kind of sibling instinct, probably in the same way that twins claim they could feel when something happened to one another, regular siblings had to have something close to that to, right?
And even if the statement was supposed to be taken as a compliment in some convoluted way, Darlene didn’t have any current interest in seventeen year old boys sleeping on her brother’s couch. Especially not when they were smartass bastards.
“I know, you said that already. I’m not deaf, I’m just covering all my bases here. If Elliot has got some barely legal boytoy living in his house, I’d at least start knocking before I come in.” She moved through the kitchen, rifling though cabinets in search of something to snack on and only coming up with more expired food. “God, how the hell is he feeding you? Tell me that you aren’t eating anything that’s in this place. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna find him as a rotting skeleton and I’ll be an only child. Eugh. Whatever.” Giving up, Darlene crossed the room to sit in the only other chair that occupied the living room — if it could even be called that. More of a living space, than anything else. — legs crossed at the knee, her foot swinging idly back and forth.
“So, what’s your story? Why the whole living on the street deal? And why here? This neighborhood is shit, there wasn’t a place somewhere on the Upper East Side that you could’ve claimed?” If she couldn’t find out about him through her usual means, she’d have to try the old fashioned way. Actually asking.