[ The nearby someone, in this instance, has outfitted himself in a bulky coat that makes his slight frame even slighter. It would probably stink, too, if the weather weren't nostril-paralyzingly cold.
Small mercies.
The chief feature of interest, however, isn't the man's coat but his mask. Smooth and silver, as though a mirror has swallowed his face. He turns when addressed—the finger snap reminiscent of someone—and crosses to her, close enough for her reflection to be caught in the mask, warped and distorted by the lines and hollows of his face.
He doesn't speak, not right off the bat. Maybe he's looking her over (he is), maybe he's contemplating the middle distance. When he does talk, it's with a strong Southern drawl, lackadaisical as the flow of a river. ] What're you gonna do with six [ a pause that is also deeply, inexpressibly Southern ] that you can't do with three?
match, match
Small mercies.
The chief feature of interest, however, isn't the man's coat but his mask. Smooth and silver, as though a mirror has swallowed his face. He turns when addressed—the finger snap reminiscent of someone—and crosses to her, close enough for her reflection to be caught in the mask, warped and distorted by the lines and hollows of his face.
He doesn't speak, not right off the bat. Maybe he's looking her over (he is), maybe he's contemplating the middle distance. When he does talk, it's with a strong Southern drawl, lackadaisical as the flow of a river. ] What're you gonna do with six [ a pause that is also deeply, inexpressibly Southern ] that you can't do with three?