e_delmar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Something feels off lately, though Ennis can't place what. Feels better outside, away from the bar, though that ain't nothing different, really.

There's something, though, and Ennis sits near the lake, up on a big rock, smoking and trying to think of anything but.

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"Hrm?"

Ennis asks, though there's something of a light chuckle under it all.

"Yes."

This, River's demeanor says, ought to clear everything up.

Right. Of course it does.

...only not at all. Which is why Ennis just shakes his head and sighs.

River rolls her eyes, the very picture of a teenager being Very Tolerant Indeed of a slow adult.

She slips off Boukephalos's back to land lightly in the grass, and leans companionably against the horse's flank. He nuzzles at her hands, even as he rolls a suspicious eye towards Ennis.

Ennis shifts a bit to his left, and holds his hand out again, this time within reach.

"Nice out."

"It's spring," River informs him happily. If obviously.

Boukephalos gives his hand another perfunctory sniff and, finding no treats hiding in it, decides to ignore Ennis in favor of the grass.

"He's a curmudgeon," says River fondly, and drops to sit on the edge of the rock and run her hands over its surface.

"Noticed."

And maybe it should strike Ennis that that doesn't really surprise him, all things considered, but he doesn't say nothing of the sort.

There's a long pause as he stubs out his cigarette and stretches, long legs unfolding in front of him.

"Back home, the streams'd be running."

River glances at him. Listening.

"Everything freezes up but good, come winter. Spring comes, and there's the thaw."

He's looking at her, but he's seeing the mountains, the lakes, the fields.

"Seasonal regeneration," River says, and smiles a little.

"Watch out for the floods."

"Ain't none of that here."

He says it, and maybe that's part of the problem.

River studies him for a moment, before she says quietly, "There's water."

"Differentiate the configurations. Doesn't change the substrate."

Ennis shrugs and, closing his eyes, leans back on his hands again.

River's content to sit in silence, too. She bows her head to watch her hands slide over the rock, casting occasional sidelong glances at Ennis, at the air over the lake, at the sky and the grazing Boukephalos.

There's a light tap tap tap of his boot against the hard rock, and his head nods just a bit, as if he's listening to a song in his head.

It catches River's attention. A moment -- head lifted, listening -- and then the fingers of one hand twitch at the air, the unthinking gesture she makes sometimes in thought or in distraction.

The tapping continues, as does the nod, though his eyes open a bit, as if he's just remembered where he is.

River's watching the air, or maybe watching nothing, her head tilted as if listening to something. Might be the tap tap tap of Ennis's boot, or might not.

Might be that, might be the sounds of Water Walkin' Jesus, sung in a caterwalling baritone.

River glances at Ennis as if he's said something, though he hasn't.

The foot stops tapping, and the head stops nodding as he turns to look at her with a questioning eye.

River's mouth opens, and then closes; she ducks her head in confusion, and shakes her head a little silently.

Ennis lowers his head, just a bit, mind you, looking up at River from under the brim of his hat. He pulls out another cigarette, but instead of lighting it, he twirls it between his fingers.

It's a minute or so before River looks back at him. But she does, through her hair.

She doesn't look upset, or tense. Just a little disoriented, and it's fading.

Ennis' more'n confused himself, can't quite tell why River's looking at him so. But he shrugs, and ducks his head, and looks away, almost embarrassed.