Scarlett Burke - How the mighty fall
"You may tell the greatest lies and wear a brilliant disguise, but you can't escape the eyes of the one who sees right through you." -Tom Robbins, Villa Incognito
"Am I on that list?" Mac swallowed.
It was a loaded question if ever he heard one.
They stared at each other for a moment, her cheeks beginning to heat under the appraisal. His brother's silver-eyed beauty would look less guilty in handcuffs.
Nemo Sine Vitio Est.
Latin.
No one is without fault.
Neptune could write the book about lies and the different definitions of truth.
It was all a matter of perspective.
Together they could redefine the term Guilty Pleasure a little voice sneered in the back of his head. What else should she have expected when spending an evening with the filterless frat boy?
"I'm not riding that downward spiral. I'd rather have a bad mushroom trip." Dick said shook his head almost in amusement. "We wont be playing the 'blame game'. Do you know what your biggest sin is? I'm not Veronica, I don't get an involuntary kegel or pitch a tent at the idea of pointing fingers and throwing out accusations. There is no trauma trophy." he murmured in a roughened undertone. "I have no taste for revenge, and I'm not going to outsource how I feel about myself. We all have ugly feelings sometimes, but life wont get beautiful if we dont learn to avoid the bad angles. You are free of my condemnation, I love that for you."
He didn't miss the quick flash of relief that washed over her features as her gaze tore away from his, the easing in her tightly leashed control as tears she refused to shed strangled her vocal chords. He shrugged tossing her a flirty smirk and walking beside her with a casual swing to his step, hands in his pockets. Time with Logan had made him adept at keeping the emotional stuff low-key with exaggerated body language. It was easier to play the fool than sink into that uncomfortable quiet.
Blame was a victim mindset, not an empowered one, throwing weapons at rage was like a piranha-like feeding frenzy for the ego. When you blamed others, you gave up your power to change... and if you couldn't grow or evolve, then you really were at fault, because life is always a process. No one ever found anything but excuses at the end of a liquor bottle or a drug-fuelled car crash.
Dick was an 09er, an emancipated 09er with the funds and privilege which gave him carte blanche to do whatever he wanted. He was a natural-born flirt with good time written all over him. It took guts to address your own shortcomings. Blaming someone else for your problems was toxic, and it kept you sick.
Sure his personal brand of wisecracking humour helped him keep things light but it meant a life permanently in motion.
Surf's up, trunks down.
He could tell the intense way he surveyed Mac played havoc with her fight or flight response, she reminded him of a gazelle unsure of fleeing a predator. She was right to be wary, she'd flown too close to the Sun once before, she was delicate and soft, not like his titanium harpy of an Ex, Madison, the Bitchasaurs Rex. Life wasn't easy with the war of angels and devils constantly at play, he could barely imagine the demons inside Cassidy's head.
They fell into an easy step walking along while his tipsy conversation played the emotional terrorist, usually opening up like this was like dipping his toe into Dantes 8th circle of Hell, so much of his days were performative.
"I'm not angry all the time but I just want to feel normal again." he admitted, hands sliding into his pockets.