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THEY SAY IM A GOD On April 10, 2017 at 10:30 AM by LÓRKÆLL DVÆRG


Vanessa. Veronica. He didn’t really give a damn.

It is the laughter that gets his attention, and icy gaze slowly raises from his disaster of an outfit to meet the steely cool blues of a white haired female. Her comment falls upon deaf ears, his lips twitching in an unamused smirk. His hands finally fall, landing heavily in his soaked lap and he grimaces, debating if he should bother with continuing his relaxation here. He hadn’t even noticed the girl next to him, and to be honest he could care less that she was here. His eyes dart from her face to the rest of her, taking her in and analyzing for a brief moment, it is at her hand that he finds himself pausing though no question is raised in regards to her past wound.

A snort is given, “perhaps,” he says dryly, turning to rest elbows on the bar and lace his fingers together, “or maybe i’m a demented soul that preys on the weak and unloved” he shrugs, it is a lie. He has no preference when he goes on tangents like that. It just so happens the girl was desperate for love and thought sleeping with some random in a dive bar after two sentences would get her a fairy tale ending. That is her fault, not his, and he wasn’t going to give it a deeper thought than that. But her words draw his eye again and he casts her a sideways glance. She will get no thanks from him, he didn’t ask her for a drink but he nods once, a subtle acknowledgment of her actions.

The drink arrives and greedily, he accepts it. Massive hand grabbing it but he pauses before taking a needed swig. Casually he holds it out to her, “cheers,” his rough baritones allow the slight amusement to show. What are they cheering to? Lost causes? He takes his cup and allows the crisp taste to satiate his anger. He grumbles at her next response, hand lowering to brush along his shirt and jeans. He half turns for her inspection, scarred face blank and unbothered, “better?” he questions, head tilting slightly to flash that smirk once again. He goes to return to his drink but she continues, a question after another. How annoyed he would be on any other day at this parade of talk. He isn’t one for such pleasantries and yet as she finishes his lips quirk slightly. Is that a smile? “it’s vanessa.” he mimicks the girl from before, though his voice does not change in octave. Another sideways glance and a short chortle of a laugh before he takes another drink. She isn’t so bad.

“can’t you ask a simpler question like, ‘what didn’t i do’?” he replies, his voice returning to that dry gruff tone. “if I am going to be bothered by your conversation let’s at least make it about something worth speaking of, which isn’t that girl.” she was irrelevant, and he was annoyed. “look, i’ll start,” his gaze flicks to her hand, taking note of the scars there. “what happened?” he asks, though he really doesn’t care. Still anything is better than talking about that girl.



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