Fried Foods and Fried Brains PV Meenauh FIN

Jack was proud of his suave charm, and there was no chance he would hide it. He was no night-running mongrel running to shade away from the rising dawn. Instead, he figured he might as well bask in the glory of what he assumed to be a well-fought victory. The tables had not turned yet, but they would soon. The boy swung his legs around the bench and leaned against the great table, propping up both elbows. He puffed out his chest like a rooster about to boast of its morning calls. There was a part of him that couldn't contain the excitement and wanted to shout out loud, notifying everyone about the glorious rising of the sun. As he finally found his new modeling pose, he let his head lull to the side, again looking at Meenauh.

This time around, something about the silence was more bearable for the ADHD-addled boy. Perhaps it was the fact that he kept on hitting the rewind button on the camcorder in his mind. Funnily enough, the moment that kept on replaying in his head was the threat to his life, even if it was with a dull butter knife. He liked girls that wouldn't put up with his bullshit. It's what attracted him to Dee; now, it seems to be the same for Meenauh. It wouldn't surprise anybody to discover that Jack Had a masochistic streak. The boy constantly threw himself in front of runaway trains and towards the nearest fight, and that was before a passenger decided to start renting the free space in his head that was surely lost due to concussions.

No level of internal boasting could have prepared him for what would come next. Meenauh was hard to read like a sculpture, ever so stoic and aloof. Being the anti-empath he was, he stood no chance in hell of guessing the following action she would take. Hell, there was the slight worry that she would actually bring a blade to his flesh. Jack knew if you pushed something hard enough, it would cut (Or rip, in this case).

But alas, there was no cutting or tearing—only the beginning of a sentence. The Lioness' words were like silk across his skin; the boy watched, almost awestruck, as she initiated contact for the first time (As long as you don't count the knife). His scruffy appearance was a staple of his devil-may-care attitude, and the loose, half-tied tie that hung around his neck like a noose really brought his look together. Order. Tidiness. Nice words. A stray thought passing through his relatively empty skull whispered that he could do that. This battle was the girl's victory as she drew that noose tighter around his neck. If she were paying attention, she would see his Adam's apple dip slightly as he swallowed. She would be expecting a letter from him? She would be expecting a letter from him.

As he stood there, lost in thought, his hand slowly rose towards Meenauh's. His fingers eagerly sought hers, but before they could touch, her hand slipped away like a thief in the night, leaving his hand empty and cold. There was nothing to do but watch her walk away. The boy let his hand grab his tie, and he finally spoke. "Damn."