His voice and expression were both flat. “A wedgie?” he muttered, sounding so not impressed.
“I don’t deserve a death sentence for it. A wedgie is pretty fair. I’m not going to steal your personal information and get a credit card or take out a loan.” I blinked and whispered, “If you forgot, I don’t know your name.”
The Defender blinked, and I almost didn’t hear him as he said, “A thousand.”
It was my turn to blink, and I swear I didn’t mean to say it the way I did, but it came out dry anyway. “Bullshit.”
His gaze narrowed.
“I’m twenty-nine,” I offered, like he was curious about it when he hadn’t even cared about my name.
Then he struck again. “Did I ask?”
Why did I even bother? Why was I still surprised when he talked to me like that? I glared at him. “I don’t get why you have it out for me. Did I do something in another lifetime? Did I cut you off one day?”
Oh, the look. The fucking look he gave me. I must have done something fucking unforgivable. Maybe that’s what had given me such terrible luck now. “Are you going to stop talking… any time soon… or is this going to be my real torture, being stuck in a small space… with your mouth?”
With my mouth? Torture? I barely even spoke to him, so his words struck a chord deep in my chest.
Deep in my inner little asshole-self that I usually managed to keep in a nice, long nap.
I’d tried giving him his space, being understanding, but today was the wrong day to be a jerk.
I’d spent my life bouncing from one school to another. Some schools had nice kids, and others had little buttholes that loved to pick on the new kid. Twice I had gotten beat up. I had learned to stand up for myself when I didn’t have a choice. And unfortunately for him, I had zero fucks left to give.
I heard once that some of the most dangerous people in the world were the ones who felt like they had nothing left to lose.
That was absolutely true.
And that’s how I managed to smile at him and say, dead serious, absolutely meaning it, switching back to Portuguese, “I get it now. I know why they don’t let you talk on TV.”
He laughed.
The son of a bitch who didn’t care what my name was, what my age was, and was annoyed by my hunger, fear, and mouth laughed.
I almost fell backward from how unexpected the sound of it was. Because it wasn’t a chuckle. It was a straight-up laugh. Round and free and not the evil cackle I would have imagined if I’d ever thought about it. Or no laugh at all.
I had to slap a hand behind me to prop myself up, because just like his face, it was fucking stunning.
How was it possible for someone to have an incredible laugh?
Sure, my back and ribs hurt from the movement, but it was almost worth it.
Narrowing my eyes, part of me expected the world to end suddenly. A meteor would strike, or a volcano would suddenly erupt. Maybe The Primordial would smash through the ceiling and end me.
I mean, I thought I was funny. Back when I talked to people at school and work, I’d made them laugh too, but the most I’d gotten out of him so far was a stare or a grunt.
But as much as my body recognized the fact I should be alarmed, and I was, curiosity got the best of me. Like it always did. Part of it might be because I still couldn’t wrap my head around being around him, going through this together, the fact that he was talking to me in the first place or laughing period.
More than likely though, I missed having someone to talk to, and this grumpy ass was better than nothing.
I had always gotten a sick enjoyment from bickering with people.
So the question came out of me faster than I could stop it. “Is that why you don’t talk?”
If his laugh hadn’t been bad enough, his actual answer was a fucking bomb that shook the pilings I’d built my life on. His “yeah” set off another explosion I hadn’t been able to prepare for.
The fingernails on the hand I had propped behind me curled into the hard concrete-like floor beneath us, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if my eyes had bugged out. But I still had no control over my body, because I snorted without meaning to. Because I’d known it.
“I don’t see a point… in spewing off bullshit… I don’t mean,” he admitted.
Bullshit? I knew that was exactly how he’d felt too. I knew it! Dammit, I loved it when I was right.
I eyed him and thought about staying quiet, but what if this was the last conversation I ever had? I changed the language again. “The Centurion said recently that he wished for world peace, and I was sitting there thinking about how you can’t get people to agree on apples or oranges. That’s never going to happen.”
He made a soft sound of continued amusement before replying in my third most familiar language. “We know better than most that… that’s never going to happen… but he still… hopes.”
What all did they talk about? I wondered in the silence afterward as I eyed him and thought about his laugh some more.
“This isn’t… the end,” The Defender added.
Was he trying to assure me? The smallest amount of hope bloomed in my chest, and I swallowed hard before asking quietly, “You think so?”
A dark eye settled right on me. “We’ll get out of here… long before you have to suffer… too much.”
Before I had to suffer. I didn’t miss that part. And how could he sound so certain? I wasn’t exactly a fan of suffering, period, but a little bit was better than a lot?
I wanted to point out his health again but didn’t want to shit on his parade when he was in a relatively good mood for once. I mean, he’d fucking laughed and was actually being talkative after all the time he’d spent with me. It made no sense, and I was suspicious about his reasons, but I wasn’t going to waste my time overthinking it right then.
I was desperate.
“Why do you think that?” I asked him.
“Because there is nothing… on this planet that can contain me.”
Big fucking words from someone still struggling to sit up. It was hard to reconcile him with the force of nature that he was in that incredible charcoal suit performing some kind of miracle.
Now, I just saw him more as the grouch who had laid in my bed and eaten a whole big bag of Cheetos.
And like he sensed my negativity, he narrowed both eyes at me. “There isn’t,” he insisted.
He closed his eyes, and his features eased, and I sat there and thought about his words for a while. For enough time that I was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep from the steady rhythm of his breathing, but then he made the mistake of cracking an eye open… and caught me staring at him.
“What are you… doing?” The Defender deadpanned, back to irritated.
I shrugged, crawling over to sit on the opposite side of the room against the wall. I’d already tried lying on my back and on my side, and both positions were uncomfortable. Every way was going to be uncomfortable on this floor with my ribs bruised, but there was no use crying over it.
“I’m trying to figure out just how the hell we’re going to get out of here before I end up with brain damage or long-term physical illness from starvation.” I wasn’t going to tell him how slim my hopes of that were regardless of his assurances.