ext_191006 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
acesodapop.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2006-10-08 07:13 pm
acesodapop.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-10-08 07:13 pm
08 october . brick . you ever read tolkien?
Title: you ever read tolkien?
Day/Theme: 8 oct // worse than his bite
Series: brick (2005 film)
Character/Pairing: brendan, the pin
Notes: rated g, and as always, i push this movie to everyone and their mother! it's reallyreally good, really.
He has his eye on the clock, but the second hand moves just as it always has, no faster or slower. His hand drum silently on his knee, his back against the wall, sitting on the carpeted floor of The Pin's rathole for operations.
4:03. Tug was late.
"Ease up, soldier, you're making me antsy." The Pin orders quietly, his heavy eyes focused on a tattered, earmarked paperback of The Hobbit. Brendan watches the teenage drug lord form long-winded descriptions slowly on his lips (like they were tiny jewels to be swallowed), lift a pale hand to turn a worn page, smooth the folds carefully and artfully.
"What're you reading?" Brendan asks in that careful tone of his (never too curious, never too casual).
"Tolkien." The Pin turns another page. "You ever sing him?"
"Naw," Brendan rakes a bandaged hand through his tangled hair. "Too wordy. I like straight to the point." His eyes dodge to the clock again.
4:06.
"So what happened, anyways?" Brendan motions to the cane lying against the desk, in easy reach of Pin's position in the chair.
The Pin still glues his eyes to the book. "Childhood accident. Fell off the bike."
"That don't sound so bad."
"From the roof."
He betrays nothing in his face. "Ah."
"Go on then, ask another. I'm feeling open today." Another page turn.
Brendan wasn't going for predictability. His gaze falls upon the oddly-cut cloak around The Pin's sharp shoulders. "Why black?"
The Pin actually lifts his face to quirk an eyebrow at such an inane question. "You mean the clothes?"
He shrugs.
The older boy smirks, the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly, and looks down to his novel again. "Dark, for dark business."
4:11. The door swung open, and one of Tugger's many nameless brothers, clad in the family uniform of a white tank and baggy jeans, grunts himself in and eyes the two silent, thin-framed boys warily.
"Tug's comin'." He heavily picks himself out. They hear Tug's slow, graceless footsteps going down the stairs approaching, chains clacking against each other, boots hitting the carpet with a dulled 'thud'.
Pin grabs his cane and shakes all the way up in lifting himself. Brendan watches him weigh a gun from his desk and put it in his coat pocket.
"What do you think's gonna happen?" He asks, unable to look away from the other boy. The hand gripping the cane-- and the lean body attached to it-- trembles uncontrollably, though the unconcerned features of the face are smooth and composed.
Brendan should say instead to him, Run. He thinks of Laura's lips against his forehead, the smoke curling from her cigarette against the shadowed walls, the danger they present to him, everyone.
"I have heard songs of many battles," The Pin turns, "and I have always understood that defeat may be glorious." His smile is brilliant, and the gun in his pocket is empty of bullets.
The door opens.
*
Day/Theme: 8 oct // worse than his bite
Series: brick (2005 film)
Character/Pairing: brendan, the pin
Notes: rated g, and as always, i push this movie to everyone and their mother! it's reallyreally good, really.
He has his eye on the clock, but the second hand moves just as it always has, no faster or slower. His hand drum silently on his knee, his back against the wall, sitting on the carpeted floor of The Pin's rathole for operations.
4:03. Tug was late.
"Ease up, soldier, you're making me antsy." The Pin orders quietly, his heavy eyes focused on a tattered, earmarked paperback of The Hobbit. Brendan watches the teenage drug lord form long-winded descriptions slowly on his lips (like they were tiny jewels to be swallowed), lift a pale hand to turn a worn page, smooth the folds carefully and artfully.
"What're you reading?" Brendan asks in that careful tone of his (never too curious, never too casual).
"Tolkien." The Pin turns another page. "You ever sing him?"
"Naw," Brendan rakes a bandaged hand through his tangled hair. "Too wordy. I like straight to the point." His eyes dodge to the clock again.
4:06.
"So what happened, anyways?" Brendan motions to the cane lying against the desk, in easy reach of Pin's position in the chair.
The Pin still glues his eyes to the book. "Childhood accident. Fell off the bike."
"That don't sound so bad."
"From the roof."
He betrays nothing in his face. "Ah."
"Go on then, ask another. I'm feeling open today." Another page turn.
Brendan wasn't going for predictability. His gaze falls upon the oddly-cut cloak around The Pin's sharp shoulders. "Why black?"
The Pin actually lifts his face to quirk an eyebrow at such an inane question. "You mean the clothes?"
He shrugs.
The older boy smirks, the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly, and looks down to his novel again. "Dark, for dark business."
4:11. The door swung open, and one of Tugger's many nameless brothers, clad in the family uniform of a white tank and baggy jeans, grunts himself in and eyes the two silent, thin-framed boys warily.
"Tug's comin'." He heavily picks himself out. They hear Tug's slow, graceless footsteps going down the stairs approaching, chains clacking against each other, boots hitting the carpet with a dulled 'thud'.
Pin grabs his cane and shakes all the way up in lifting himself. Brendan watches him weigh a gun from his desk and put it in his coat pocket.
"What do you think's gonna happen?" He asks, unable to look away from the other boy. The hand gripping the cane-- and the lean body attached to it-- trembles uncontrollably, though the unconcerned features of the face are smooth and composed.
Brendan should say instead to him, Run. He thinks of Laura's lips against his forehead, the smoke curling from her cigarette against the shadowed walls, the danger they present to him, everyone.
"I have heard songs of many battles," The Pin turns, "and I have always understood that defeat may be glorious." His smile is brilliant, and the gun in his pocket is empty of bullets.
The door opens.
*