Watch, Observe, Fall in Love
Things you said while we were driving
Ward makes observations about people – that's how he stays alive, and, well, he likes it. Especially when he finds the person he observes interesting.
And he doubts he has ever met a person more interesting than Skye. There are so many facets of her he wants to learn, deep, important, intimate facets, but for now, he'll make peace with little things – like how she behaves in the car.
Surprisingly, she is not that good with driving – he has kind of expected her to be a skilled driver, after living in her van for so long. But no – she's is way too cautious, way too slow. She would be dead in a car chase within five minutes.
And she talks, mostly to herself, or to the car, about things that are happening around her.
"Please, remain green, please…" she'd plead as approaching the traffic lamps.
"Oh, I see it's a luxury to use indicators," she would mumble when somebody would turn in front of her without showing intent first.
"Where's the rush? So eager to die?" she'd snark when she's see people going over the speed limit without apparent reason.
And it amuses to him to no end.
She is different when in the passenger seat.
She is terrible with the map. She when she navigates, she keeps turning it around, always losing North, getting tangled up in the paper, until a point where she can't even refold it properly. She is better, of course, with the GPS – she has that up and running seamlessly within second. And she is even better with asking for direction – mostly because everybody seems to love her. (Or he is just biased.)
She sings in the car. If either of them turns on the radio, chances are she'll be singing along with the song within five minutes. He doesn't even mind it – she has an angelic voice, even if he'd never admit it to her face. But he has a feeling she knows – because he often finds himself smiling when she sings.
She loves gazing out of the window in silence, too, with a dreamy look on her face, until she sees something particularly interesting that has her talking.
"Have you seen that dog, Ward? I swear it was dressed up like Elvis, with a wig and everything. There are strange people on Earth – people who shouldn't be allowed to keep dogs."
"One of my foster families used to live in an apartment complex like this. They weren't that bad… they were just super religious. Not like the nuns, but in an obsessed kind of way. It was weird, and I didn't really like it. Especially when my foster brother – their biological kid – said he was superior to me because he was a boy. I showed him who was really superior, though."
"Do you see how pretty the sky is, Grant? I wish I had a camera with me. It's just simply gorgeous. Do you think it'll rain?"
And then sometimes she'd sleep, curled up on the seat, looking even smaller than anyways, looking completely adorable. And he knows that when this happens, he should be glad for the temporary silence, because God, she really talks much.
But he isn't – because as soon as she falls asleep, he is missing her voice, her presence, her laugh. Because there are still so many sides of her he wants to learn. What she does in the car is just a page of the enormous book that is her, a page he doesn't even know by heart yet, but he it makes him want to learn the whole book, from the first line to the last.
