[ Richie doesn't miss it, the way her lips pull upright, mischievous and aligned with her brow. He leans into the door's frame, tilting his chin, curious. She might be an idea; these days, he doesn't remember waking up, taking into the passenger's seat alongside his brother.
He reaches out, thumb grazing familiar red dust from her cheek. Richie leans his thumb to his face, examining it against the brightness before it fades from sight. He turns his attention to her, pushing hands into coat pockets. ]
Why are you here, Abigail?
[ It isn't accusatory, wrought with distaste. He can see it in her expression. She never should have walked away. This life chooses you; it was never the other way around. To escape was either brave or stupid. ]
no subject
He reaches out, thumb grazing familiar red dust from her cheek. Richie leans his thumb to his face, examining it against the brightness before it fades from sight. He turns his attention to her, pushing hands into coat pockets. ]
Why are you here, Abigail?
[ It isn't accusatory, wrought with distaste. He can see it in her expression. She never should have walked away. This life chooses you; it was never the other way around. To escape was either brave or stupid. ]
You got out.