1. What they smell like: Vaguely like tangerines and lilacs. And odd combination, but it works for her. 2. How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc): Due to traumatic instances as a child, Rose curls up in a sort of fetal position to sleep. She feels safer that way, like she’s made herself a little cocoon. But, if she’s not alone in bed she loves to bury her face into her partners side. Seeking warmth as her arms tend to cling to their bicep or abdomen. 3. What music they enjoy: She finds Jazz music romantic, Loves listening to Indie and R&B, likes to fall asleep to classical music when sleep doesn’t come quick enough and can listen to rock whenever her mood fits it. 4. How much time they spend getting ready every morning: Depending on the tasks for the day. When she cares, about an hour or so. When she doesn’t, half hour. 5. Their favorite thing to collect: Music boxes. Her mother collected them and they grew on her. 6. Left or right-handed: Right-handed 7. Religion (if any): Catholic 8. Favorite sport: To play; Gymnastics, to watch; Football. 9. Favorite touristy thing to do when traveling: Learn the history and culture. She’s a sucker for places with ancient history. Hence why she’s in love with the idea of Italy 10. Favorite kind of weather: Cool breezes and a summer sun. 11. A weird/obscure fear they have: Fear of Thunderstorms. 12. The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: Dig Dug? That’s arcade right? xD
☢T.D.— His bruised arm leaned against the doorway, Maybe there was a smile on his face from how sweet this woman was.
“I can relate to that..” Beige pupils watched her closely, as she spun around to write numbers on his hand.
“Or maybe superman will be calling you.”
—-And her nose scrunches up in that amused little smile, because she sort of relieved, or perhaps its because she wants to laugh at the nick name that hardly fit him. Of course, to anyone else it would seem foreign in fact. But, to her he was superman. The question was, did that make her Lois Lane? ’ Well I’ll look for the ’S’ then. ’
☢T.D.— Tall pumps to make her almost near his height. The streets smelled of smoke and over-used perfume, Prostitutes stood in corners near the apartment. The scent stuck to his clothes, Oculars made of glass watched her.
“Thank you.”
It felt like a compliment. Dead-beat men lying in allies picking up prostitutes or passed out, It seemed Tyler was far from them.
Wasn’t that perfect, Tyler was a gentlemen..I think.
”This your place?” Cramped apartment.
’ Unfortunately—- ’ —-Yet, her legs kicked the pebbles the littered the ground and she didn’t look at him. Not yet. ’ School loans and a shitty desk job don’t really make it easy to afford a better apartment in a better neighborhood. I make do. ’ —-And suddenly her heartbeat picks back up, of course nothing like the heart attack she was having earlier. It was more steady, exhilarating almost. And then she remembers something, and with a pen she’d pulled from her back she scrawled upon it a handful of numbers. ’ In case you’re looking for damsals in distress, superman. I got you covered. ’
☢T.D.— Those glassy oculars looked right into that broken soul of his. Maybe she reminded him of Marla Singer, The tall pumps, The porcelain like skin and her depressed tone.
”More than often..” Maybe he owned a underground boxing club. Yeah he went there a lot, And watched people get half murdered in there, Their fresh blood staining the warm cement. The smell of sweat of a fight from the night before.
—-A soft hum echoes through the midnight streets, as if to reply to his statement. Yet, despite the bells alarming in her inner most subconscious, she continued to still. Judging a book by its placement was almost like judging it by its cover. He’d already proven that the metaphor on its own was but a joke. Besides, she lived just up the road, where most women were either prostitutes or drug addicts. She happened to be neither.
’ And yet– You aren’t like them. ’ —-Of course she meant those men from earlier, of course, not all men that decided to hangout in grubby bars were scum themselves.
☢T.D.— Superman, What a nickname maybe he can get his own movie.
”Thanks for the new nickname.” That blow of smoke.
A head aims towards her apartment, And beige oculars look back at her. She lived so close, Near this shitty bar and this shitty neighborhood maybe it was bad to feel sorry for how close she was.
“Sure..”
—-She laughs, putting the cig out in the cool cement and standing on her onyx pumps. Rose pushed off the wall moving to walk towards the building that housed her and many others, yet she turned, arms crossed behind her back and luminescent pools gazed at him. Surely, she was going insane, not that she really cared.
’ Thanks—- I haven’t seen you around here before. Do you go to that place often? ’ She motions to it as though it’s nothing but the most awful place ever. Of course her judgement was a bit biased anymore.
A short laugh, More like agreeing to what she was saying kind of laugh.
“Luckily, I came to save the day.” Everyone who stood in the parking lot was already gone or passed out on the street. Just the two of them, drowned in the scent of nicotine.
”You live in this neighborhood?”
—-She laughed then, a true genuine one that lifted her mouth to her eyes and made the brown sparkle in an unrivaling radiance. ’ This is true. I should call you superman or something. ’ Thankfully the men that had surrounded her earlier had all but disappeared into the city night. Made her feel more at ease. Though she was hardly in the clear and she was reminded of that when he asked her where she lived.
’ Yeah—- Up the street a little ways. Hey um– I know it’s probably a little odd to ask but I’d feel a lot better if superman could possibly accompany me h o m e. ’
☢T.D.— That stinging sensation of the smoke that entered the already burnt lungs made him feel at ease. Hues of a dark beige watched the woman kill her lungs with the nicotine. For some reason, The feeling of protecting her it seemed she felt safe around someone like him.
Tyler Durden, Insanity transformed into a human form.
”You look grateful.” That sound of a sick desperation in his laugh made him break a smile only to say,
“Got some sort sick desperation in your laugh?” A rhetorical question.
’ –I could look a lot worse. ’ —-Of course she was mentioning the fact that had he not come she’d probably had been battered and broken ten times over. A thought she shook from her mind immediately. Avoiding the statement he had finished with. Desperation, she snorted. But then again, she was sitting on the sidewalk in the cold, a cigarette to her lips and a man she barely knew standing close by.
☢T.D.— Tyler watched the porcelain frame smoke that killing cigarette. A small smirk on that visage of his as she spoke those words.
“Tyler Durden.” Being called a rescuer made him feel needed at least for once.
—-The burn in her lungs almost felt like freedom. It made her feel alive, considering pain always meant you were still pumping blood through your system. Which in her case right now was a blessing. And even though her legs were freezing and that tiny little pea coat was doing nothing to warm her up, she thought she could just sit there for an hour. As long as he was nearby, at least. Otherwise she probably would have pushed through the numbness in her body and booked it to her apartment down the road.
’ Well, Tyler. You cannot imagine how grateful I am to have met you. ’
—-And she laughs then. Perhaps slightly forced, but a laugh no less. For he hardly seemed the type of guy that anyone would grateful in meeting, what with his bruised and bloodied hands and a bravado that spoke of something darker than what was on the surface. Nonetheless, she shined a nonchalant smile for him as she corrupted her lungs with the nicotine.
-❀-
