Title: Divinity is Best
Word Count 265
Divinity is Best
Thomas Walsingham leaned on a negligent elbow. His feet sprawled under the table, he was loose sprawled in his chair, feet extended. The little tap room was dusty and warm, summer had come, sudden in the last week. Kit's feet were tucked back, under his place at the bench, he had taken his wine slowly, but he had finished it now. There was only a sticky residue in the bottom of his glass.
Thomas looked at Kit. Of course, anyone looked at a person when speaking to them, but often Kit felt the gaze on his face, like a fire's heat. Often, when there were no words in the air between them. Kit was fiercely careful not to to look back for too long. It felt like falling forward, clinging, or not, to some edge. But now he allowed it of himself, and watched the black expand in those blue eyes across the table.
“Yes,” Kit said. “I cannot see myself as a doctor of physic, and I have not the money for the inns of court, so law is not for me. Divinity is best.”
“Hmm. Well that is some years away yet.” Thomas said. “Perhaps by then you will look the part.”
“Look the part?” Kit had stared too long, he cast his eyes to the table top. His white hand, there by his wine glass.
“Aye. You know: severe, dusty, crabbed, ill tempered...”
Startled into laughter Kit looked up again.
“Cross eyed. Demented...”
The laughter came boiling out of Kit. It felt so good to laugh.
“Do I not look so now?” He said this when he recovered his breath.
Eyes on the table again. There was something turning in Kit, inside, choking, falling, flying. Maybe all three. There was a ring of moisture where his wine glass had rested, he ran his finger through it, dragging it into spikes, making a sun shape.
“No.” Thomas' voice had changed. It was lower now. “You look well enough.”