Thread: Delilah and Lucas.Who: Lucas Matthies and Delilah Winters
Where: The road! It goes places! ( Destination: Wahpeton )
When: October 14th, afternoon. After this thread: http://asylums.insanejournal.com/praeter/2190.html
Status: Incomplete
LUCAS: After he had gotten off the phone with Delilah, Lucas trudged back through the light wooded area next to his grandmother's house and up toward the back door of the small rambler. Knowing full well that he smelled of cigarette smoke, despite that his own cigarette had been tossed away before he made the trip there, Lucas prayed to whatever gods there were that his gran wouldn't smell on it his clothes. The last thing he needed right then was another discussion on how bad smoking was 'for you, your lungs and the people around you.'
Walking through the tiny living room that was big enough for a large television, coffee table and a few scattered pieces of furniture, he made his way into the kitchen where she was. It was in there that she rummaged through the drawers, opening and closing them as he stepped onto the tiled floor. "Hey, Gran, I'm gonna go out for food, all right?"
His grandmother was the stereotypical type - short, kind of stout, with graying hair and wrinkling skin. She wasn't very old, in her sixties actually; and surprisingly enough, she had quite a bit of life left in her. "Are you sure? I'm making spaghetti tonight."
And as inviting as spaghetti seemed, he had already made plans. Lucas Matthies was a stubborn ass that never broke any agreement, even if he truly didn't know if he felt up to being around other people that evening. "Yeah, I'm sure. Going to hang out with a friend ... type-thing," he added the last bit awkwardly and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't throw that F-word around too much, at least not like how he did with the other one.
After saying goodbye, he ventured outside to the driveway. It was humid out still, but he insisted on wearing his navy blue hooded sweatshirt anyway, zipping it up and adjusting the hood. "Hurry the fuck up," he muttered, while walking to the end of his driveway. Lucas double checked that he had his wallet on him, stuffed in his back pocket, and realized that he was ready. Now if only she would get there.
DELILAH: It hadn't taken very long for Delilah to leave the house. And by "not very long," we of course mean it took her about fifteen minutes. She couldn't find her keys and once she'd finally been on her way, realized she'd left her sweatshirt in Derek's room and had to turn around and retrieve it. It wasn't long before Dee was finally on her way. Being so close to Lucas' grandmother's house, it barely took a minute to get there, and she at the end of his street when she saw him waiting at the end of his driveway. She nodded as if he could see her.
Delilah absentmindedly bobbed her head in time with the song on the radio. She obviously didn't care whether she was late or not--it was all the same to her. It wasn't too cold outside, anyhow. Her car hummed gently as it sidled to the curb in front of Lucas and she reached over to unlock the door for him.
"Hop in!" She sang along with the song even though the words she said were obviously not the lyrics. It still worked, somehow, and she bobbed and weaved some more as she waited for Lucas to obey. "Hop in--hop in--hop in the car," she crooned. It wasn't bizarre behavior, exactly.
LUCAS: It may not have been bizarre behavior for Delilah, but it was the opposite for Lucas. He opened the door and got in, casting her a wary look as he shut the door and buckled himself in. Lucas didn't trust Delilah's driving skills.
"How much fucking weed did you smoke before you came here?" he asked, glancing over to her. He was an idiot for even letting her drive if she was high. Though, he had done a lot of stupid things too. "And you better not pull that 'dancing with the car' shit. We don't need to hit any deer, possums or whatever the fuck else that's out there, all right?"
DELILAH: "Only a little," Dee admitted as she pulled away from the curb just a little too quickly. "Not a lot. I'm running out. I was bored. Don't talk about it to Doug, he acts like a PMSing woman every time somebody mentions it." She could figure out why, but Doug acted like such a crybaby all the time--and over nothing. A little weed.
"I won't dance with the car, Lukey," Delilah promised and she pressed on the gas. "Let's go to Wahpeton!" And then she was off, driving and weaving along the road as it curved. Not even batting an eyelash or turning her head in his direction, Delilah asked Lucas, "So how does it feel being back?"