The air was noticeably frostier after this, and he continued to ride in sullen silence beside her. Frusturated by the fact that he would not be able to sleep for at least another day, yet indescribably weary, he stagnated.

The flat where they arrived, a dismal, equally bleak manifestation of how his future was beginning to surface, was in a non descript, quiet suburban area of London. He sighed, wistfully watching the Big Ben's golden aura eminate into the foggy night. Without thinking, he brought his finger and began to trace patterns upon the air, each stroke growing more reckless than the last. When he noticed her staring at him, brown eyes in reserved amusment, he instinctively dropped his hand.

Draw much?.

He could sense her smirk, the cruel tautness of the corners of her mouth and the jeering glint in her eyes. He scowled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes, ignoring the stinging of his pride. However, when a bit of light had been cast upon her face by another car's headlights, he realised that she was not goading him. She was almost mulling over him, her mouth set in a line that he sometimes made whilst poring over a particularily difficult concoction.

I'm sorry, if I've offended you. Drawing is one of my less....profitable talents .

It sounded like an apology, but the ending had turned harsh and bitter in her mouth. He almost sympathised with her, immediately sensing upon unsaid implications. Her hand had snaked its way out of the darkness and gave his own elbow a tenative squeeze; he set his jaw, determined never to let her know how much he craved more substantial contact.

The flat is this way.

He sighed, his breath spiraling out of his mouth, an obscenely beautiful yet serpentine motion in one. This was his new life now; he was just another embittered, battered man.














A/N: No one is reviewing! Erlack. Oh well. Hopefully, those who are reading are enjoying.