Date: 2014-10-03 10:17 pm (UTC)
They were so alike, Erik and herself. Most of the time the fact of it got lost in the easy comfort they shared, but from time to time their similarities stood out bald and brash, a crisp jolt like splashing cold water on your face on a hot summer afternoon. What a tall, cool liar Erik was, his wall of diffidence as neat as his suit, not a hair out of place. Had he been dressed for golfing and slouching in an oversized chair, he could have been her.

I don't give a damn about you now, but it was a new experience for me, and I felt a little dizzy for awhile.

On a different day, in a different context, she might have openly admired him for this display of aloofness, but here, now, the connection was too poignant, too acute, and she merely sipped from her glass as she shifted her attention back to Charles.

Charles, who was as collegiate and buttoned-up as Nick had been, lacking only a borrowed sport coat and a dogeared book, dark hair artlessly tousled over his strained expression. His eyes, though, were of a different species entirely, bright and piercing and uncannily familiar, although Jordan couldn't quite place why–

Oh.

Blinking, she openly stared a moment, and then swiveled a look of cynical disbelief back to Erik.

"She's a sharp one," Charles said, and knocked back what remained in his first glass, apparently giving up on seeming disaffected. "He's not put it together yet," he added to Jordan, and reached for the fresh drink.
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