Stalker // DNF

20: Tranquility

George rolls his eyes and chuckles, abruptly ending his outburst of laughter when Patches retreats and curls against the wall at the sudden sound.

He moves backwards until the glass pane clasps his shoulders, comforting him that he's giving the distressed cat as much space as possible. Discomfort creeps up his skin while meeting Patches' eyes, their intensity matching her owners'. George turns his attention back to Dream to avoid her glare.

'You just can't help yourself, can you?' he replies playfully, sliding down the wall until his sits bone collides with the fluffy rug, it's warmth contrasting to the icy glass.

Dream's head is turned to George, his attention on Patches. Small, curling strands of hair are clinging to Dream's neck, the fluffy overcoat of his haircut hiding most of the waves.

'Not with you, no,' Dream's shallow voice and serious tone oppose the previous lightness of George's. He leans forward to hover his open palm in front of Patches, allowing her to come nearer if she pleases to sniff the opportunity. George is grateful for the animal keeping Dream distracted as he shakes his head loose, hoping to shake away the blush that was beginning to coat his cheeks.

Patches takes the bait and leans forward, briefly pausing to smell Dream's hand before rubbing her cheek against his callouses. George watches as Dream turns his hand to skim his thumb across her cheek, the peace of the moment allowing for his thoughts to drift.

'It's weird hearing you being called 'Clay',' George thinks out loud, speaking softly as to not alert the cat. Dream turns his cheek at the voice, keeping his hand steady by Patches' face.

'Is it?' He replies mindlessly, shifting his legs so he's facing George's direction more, but slides back so he's by his pet's side for a comfortable reach.

Dream pauses for a while, the calm atmosphere created for the cat dissolving any awkwardness that may have arised in the silence. He then continues, 'I guess it's weird hearing you call me 'Dream'.'

'Does no one else call you Dream?' George asks. 'Who else knows you're 'Dream,' actually?'

The painter smiles, his head being drawn down to his lap, where a paw of Patches is palming at the cusp of his thigh. He moves his hand from her cheek to stroke the length of her back.

'You're the only one who knows.' His whisper carries around the room, tickling the drums of George's ears.

'You're lying.'

Dream shakes his head with a grin, 'I'm not.'

'You are - there's no chance a friend or family member... or anyone at all, doesn't know,' George says stubbornly in disbelief.

Dream lets out a gentle hybrid of a laugh and a scoff, keeping his eyes on Patches and not able to look up.

'George you don't even like me,' Dream replies, the out-of-the-blue nature of his words pulling George's eyebrows down in confusion.

'Do you really think I have any friends - or anyone that close to tell?' His serious tone remains, a tinge of sadness coating the tone of his voice.

George sits in the undressed truth, unsure of how to reply to Dream's words. He feels an urge to comfort the man who's expression is hidden by his tilted face, not finding the words.

George knows he should continue to interrogate Dream about the people in his life for the case, but can't control his curious mouth overpowering sensibility.

'Do you wish I called you 'Clay' instead of 'Dream'?' he wonders, changing the subject at his loss for a reply.

Patches shuffles onto Dream's lap from the fluffy floor, leaping slightly and landing at the point where his ankles cross. He looks up with his mouth open in surprise, the ceiling light reflecting the joy in his eyes.