no_sin_but | (no subject)

(no subject)

"I thiiiiink," says Darren, much in good cheer, fishing in his drawer, "you can keep these."

They get tossed in Marlowe's direction.

"If they fit. If not..."

His legs are longer than Marlowe's, this will be a problem.

"If not, just what you have on, I suppose."

Marlowe holds the jeans against him, and then laughs softly.

"I think I would trip and break my neck."

Heels are wonderful things, but they don't change basic body lengths.

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"I can always look him up later."

Original languages are his own true love. Unless he is translating, of course.

"How good is your German?"

He hands him the book.

"The man wrote a lot."

"Rusty, mostly, but I have the time to polish it."

"Then start with this. It's heavy stuff at the best of times."

If Darren admits so, then...

"I shall counter it with science, that most fair and troubled of studies."

"Never been much for science," admits Darren, "usually in school they force you to choose one or the other very quickly. I went the route of literature and theatre."

"In my school, we...had dear old Calvin shoved down our throats."

"At this point my, very basic, understanding of science probably outweighs what you were taught. Religion is effectively taboo in the classroom."

"I picked it up once I was free of Cambridge. Mostly illegally."

Then he slants Darren a raised eyebrow, and laughs. Louder, but more cynical.

"And Old Queen Bess would be turning in her grave at that."

"Yes, well, it was decided that maybe freedom of thought and speech was an inalienable right."

That's a good idea. Darren should find him a copy of the Charter.

Marlowe looks bemused, but doesn't say anything as he has to step out the way of a boy in black.

He also looks more then a little wistful.

"Not a bad world. Not a perfect one, but not a bad world."

He's never admitted this before, but Marlowe kind of puts things into perspective.

"The world cannot be perfect. But we can try."

"And we do. Everyone espouses one cause or another."

See photos of Darren clutching an inexplicably large fish.

"And you?"

"I'm too old for that, these days."

This is mostly kidding.

Darren gathers up their choices so far, and moves them in the direction of the cash register. They're all used books, so it's surprisingly cheap.

"But I used to care passionately about polluted rivers, about racism in South Africa, and about gay rights, and any number of other things."

Marlowe is silent while Darren pays, silent as he takes the bag and walks outside.

"You know, maybe I'm not the only one who has forgotten how to life."

"Don't be a prick," he warns him, "I'm comfortably not thinking about it right now. You'll understand when you're older."

And on to dinner. Marlowe is not given a chance to push.

Marlowe's smile is a tad mocking, but that is nothing new. He isn't used to feeling helpless, but to a certain extent he is. This isn't his time, and all he can do is trail along behind Darren and trust him.

It's harder then it looks.

But maybe trust pays off, because by the time they find themselves in a park with Chinese take-away, Marlowe is back to being relaxed and cocky and, oddly all at the same time, wondering.

Darren orders, because when will Marlowe have had Canadian-Chinese food? Eggrolls and lemon chicken and pork satay and eggplant.

He's long suffering and just as quick with the verbal darts as Marlowe is, and very good about subtly making sure he isn't hit by anything or anyone in a rush.

For a long time, Marlowe just eats. He's grown up poor, and been poor his whole life, and despite his wit and manners that stays. Not to mention that while his siblings were sisters, they were still Marlowes.

You don't talk over food, you just eat.

Besides, this is...strange. New and exotic, and he thinks that he likes it.

"Ah, thank you, Marco Polo."

"I haven't forgotten how to live," he says, apparently out of the blue but fucking fuck, Marlowe got under his skin there, it's an hour later and he's still turning it over in his head.

"It's just since the riot in London, I've been more careful."

"And since I got arrested and stabbed in the eye, I've been more careful, too." Marlowe says without a moment's hesitation.

"Doesn't mean a thing."

"What does? How do gage living?"

Faintly curious.

"Has to be more then this."