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The Homeless Bearde
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"I don't want you monkey-mouth motherfuckers sitting in my throne again."
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Dougie didn’t like this situation. Maybe it was the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that he attributed to the cameras he knew were watching their every move down to the most miniscule change of expression. Maybe it was the calm way that Jewel kept beckoning people towards her, without any real indication of an alliance, all but for that me too she had thrown his way which had been immediately distorted by her point blank question.

Or maybe it was just the game itself.

But he had the strange urge to warn Erik away from the stage, or warn Jewel to back off - just something, anything, to break this trio up. He was unsettled and tense, eyes tracking Erik’s movements, flitting between him and Jewel’s seated position, his back foot easing down onto the stage as he considered how fast he could get gone.

But he wanted - needed - to see this all play out. If something happened to Jewel or Erik after he disappeared, it’d be on him.

He knew that. Understood that.

So instead of running, he spoke.

“Dougie,” he said to Erik, and, hesitating, he pointed his chin at the girl on the stage.

“She’s Jewel.”
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We All Look So Perfect · Open Air Cabaret
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