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The Homeless Bearde
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"I don't want you monkey-mouth motherfuckers sitting in my throne again."
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
This entire situation was wrong.

Everything about it - the feeling in the air, Jewel's pointed questions and evasive answers, Erik's stuttering and stammering, trying to dig to the bottom of the mess - conspired to make Dougie's unease increase tenfold. He didn't know who the threat was, where the danger lay most - the shaky kid with a gun, or the girl with the level gaze and cool voice.

He didn't step closer for fear of spooking Erik, or causing Jewel to react to spook Erik further. And all Dougie knew was that whatever Jewel would've said in response, he didn't want to hear it.

"It doesn't matter," he interjected, more gruffly than he intended, zipping up his hoodie further, "does it? Not trying to be rude, but you're - you've got a gun."

Dougie shoved his large hands into his sweater pockets, shifted slightly - and took another smaller step towards Jewel, his body turned fully towards Erik.

"She- Jewel, and me - we don't have one of those, so it's more a question of what you're planning to do with yours that's more of a concern - then like - what she's going to do. And... yeah."

As he spoke, his voice got quieter and quieter, his gaze rooted to the floor in front of Erik, uncomfortable all over again. He was practically center stage, with a girl on the ground near him, facing empty chairs and a kid with a gun.

Dougie bunched his shoulders higher, pushed his hands deeper, and wished he could disappear.
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We All Look So Perfect · Open Air Cabaret
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