Poetry in Motion

18

When it came to leaving Pogo's, it was honestly very little surprise to see puddles scattered along the pavements. Imelda fastened her coat around herself, whereas Arthur had already done that and shifted to the side when someone pushed past him and walked down the street. They were sheltering in the doorway slightly; they were in the way but was it so hard to say excuse me? Apparently yes, Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets, his hands feeling both his lighter and cigarette packet in one.

He frowned and tugged it out, sticking one between his lips he glanced at Imelda. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, Arthur hadn't ever thought about it until now, but maybe she didn't like him smoking around her. She never spoke up about it, and didn't seem to mind him smoking when she visited. It was strange, there were a lot of small details and things which were suddenly cropping up in Arthur's mind; things which he wouldn't spend too long dwelling over, but now those things seemed quite major.

He didn't want to chase her off, least of all because of smoking. But then, that seemed like a rather minute problem in his life, and it was just a habit which calmed him. He was feeling tense after being in the club for the few hours they were. As usual, people glanced his way, muttered under their breaths and made no secret about being blatantly rude. Imelda had told some to shut up, others got glared at; she was backing him, in his corner completely ready to defend.

Because, well, Arthur knew he didn't exactly have the courage to. If he tried, he knew what would happen. One, he'd coward out completely. Two, he'd burst out laughing; that would then wind up with him getting called a freak, and whoever looking at him like he was complete shit. Then, and maybe, they'd leave him alone. Of course, this would be hard while in the club. But the least they could do would be to turn away and ignore him, he was used to being ignored after all.

"Did you want to grab a coffee, Arthur?" Imelda simply asked, he paused lighting his cigarette. Unless explicitly asked, he was still going to smoke around her. He was just getting too into his thoughts and becoming paranoid about what behavioural traits might finally be the final nail in the coffin of their very new relationship, but their friendship too. She watched him take a drag and nod; he shoved his lighter back into his pocket. She smiled, "Come on," she waved a hand in the air and turned out of the club's doorway and down the street.

Arthur jogged a few steps to walk alongside her. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He asked, the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, the smoke lifelessly trailing along as they walked.

"Uh-huh, yeah."

Arthur laughed; thin fingers removed the stick from his lips as he tapped out ash. Inhaling the polluted air of the city, he simply took to smoking again, it was no different. Exhaling smoke through his nose, he looked down at her when she watched him. There was something rather hollow sounding about his laughter. Hollow, sarcastic and a tiny bit mocking. He didn't mean it to, but that's what the small bouts of laughter appeared to be. "Don't lie to me." His voice cracked a bit, between laughing and exhaling smoke it dipped a little to a low, serious sounding tone.

Imelda placed her hands in her pockets, in an effort to keep them warm and looked at him warily. Arthur just looked down at her from the corner of his eyes as he rolled the cigarette from one side of his mouth, to the other. "Okay, I didn't find half of those guys funny. I know everyone else did, and I know you did. But I didn't." She admitted, holding her hands up in defence. Even the three glasses of wine she had didn't make them any funnier, nor did it make her tipsy. If anything, the alcohol didn't make her buzz, it just signalled home how exhausted she was.

Arthur let out a thoughtful noise, Imelda yelped when she almost walked into him. He had suddenly darted to walk in front of her, hands in his pockets, cigarette still in place as he walked backwards looking down at her. Imelda smiled and tilted her head, the lampposts they passed both lit and backlit Arthur perfectly; although the harsh lighting made his appearance appear both interestedly looking down at her, but also something else was lurking. Something a bit darker, it glimmered in his eyes for a fraction of a second and then was gone as he exhaled more smoke through his nose.