lie to me → s.d.

.19 | still moving

          Sam Drake and Theodora Thatcher both smoked so much it was a marvel, and a miracle, they hadn't realized they could put two in their mouth at the same time. If they did, they would probably do it. He was the one who had originally gotten her hooked, which there was some kind of irony in, when she turned seventeen and he finally allowed her to try it. She had thrown up, of course, but because she had always been trying to copy him and everything he did, she had it down by eighteen.

          And here they were now, sitting in the empty tower they had searched for at least an hour, wasting their lungs away and watching the smoke drift from the window they had hauled themselves through.

          Theodora sat in the opposite window sill with her foot dangling out over the side, a nearly-fizzled out cigarette hanging from her lips as she watched the city move about below. The people all looked like ants as they wound their way through the streets, going about their lives as if they weren't living amongst the towers built and ruled by pirate lords from every corner of the globe. But then again, she figured not everybody cared about those things like she did.

          She hopped down from her perch when her smoke ran out and landed beside Sam, who leaned against the wall and opened an eye lazily. His own lips were a little more skillful when it came to their cancerous habit, the way his smoke hung upwards rather than down when he pulled his hands away. As if reading her mind, he grasped the stick between his fingers and shaped his mouth in an 'O' to release a ring of smoke into the air. It disappeared a moment later and he closed his eyes again.

          "You know since there's nothing here," said Theodora as she sat down with him against the wall, "Nathan and Sully have probably found it in their tower."

          He exhaled and nodded his head slow-like, releasing a plume of white clouds like a fire-breathing dragon. The dent above his brow was getting deeper, his telltale giveaway he was growing frustrated again. Outside the oak doors of the tower, somewhere in the market, a few of the locals had launched into a song accompanied by drums and chimes and a young girl singing foreign words they couldn't even begin to understand. Theodora rather liked it.

          She rose to her feet and motioned for him to follow. "Come on," she said. "No more moping. You're not dead yet."

          Sam smothered his smoke and grabbed her extended hands. "You always know just what to say, darling," he replied sarcastically.

          "I do," she agreed. Holding his wrists securely, she felt his fingers slip around her own and she started to sway them both in time with the beating music outside. "But I mean it. There's no use pouting thinking about something that might happen when life is still moving around you."

          He considered her words for a moment, eyes dazzled by the way her body moved and swayed just inches from his. Alright, he seemed to decide. Perhaps it was time for him to live while he still could. Did that include taking the chances he wanted to? Doing the things he knew he wasn't allowed to?

          Maybe it was time to find out.

          Sam pressed his front against Theodora's and she grinned in reply, in some kind of consent, and they moved like like had done this a thousand times before. Back and forth and side to side, hips moving in sync and fingers interlaced as they danced to the muted music floating through the open windows. This was a different kind of rhythm than the one they had done in Italy, a closer, more personal one. It was a dance that brought their foreheads close and their hearts beating for only the body across from the other, and their weary feet moving as if they hadn't crossed thousands of miles for something very opposite of this.