“I’m saving you from yourself. That’s what’s going on,” Hazard said. And then scrunched her face and pulled her messy blonde hair back behind a couple of rather large ears.
She paused while Bloom’n watched in quiet alarm as this 18 year old – or whatever tender age she was – studied her. All she could think to herself was: how did I mistake this? But Bloom’n’s mind was stuck. Completely stuck, the question spinning and spinning around in her head.
And Hazard answered right on cue, precisely as if she had read Bloom’n’s innermost thoughts.
“You always do this,” the kid said, her words etched in the youthful cocktail that mixed together boredom with disappointment. Hazard locked her clear young gaze onto Bloom’n who returned the favor but with significantly older and somewhat bloodshot and thoroughly preoccupied eyes that presently were frantically pulling double-duty scanning her inner memory banks.
“Always do what,” Bloom’n stalled.
“Yeah…and that too.” Hazard huffed briefly and turned her gaze abruptly in the direction of Sprocket who sat with his legs outstretched and the heels of his boots resting on the fourth chair of their front-and-center table to the world. He seemed quite *actively* disengaged — ages ago and then some — in exuberant awe of the menu or the waitress or the hardwood flooring or the dust on the ceiling light fixture or — most likely — anywhere but here and anywhere but now. It was as if he sensed something terribly amiss between Bloom’n and Hazard, and for reasons she couldn’t fathom (sarcasm and feigned surprise intended), Bloom’n figured Sprocket wanted nothing at all of whatever the hell was going on between her and Hazard.
Lucky him, Bloom’n grunted to herself and then hunkered down onto their table to the world. She had nowhere else to go at the moment and this kid wasn’t about to let her off the hook. So she ignored all the perky Hello Day GOLLY GEE WHIZ ME TOO messages — which was a feat in and of itself. And instead she tried desperately to regroup her mind all while under the late-in-years teenage glare from a more than slightly miffed or disgusted (Bloom’n couldn’t tell which) girl.
Hazard rattled her head briefly side to side in teeny tiny motions. “Yeah…that’s right. Let it sink in. Give it time. Give it room,” Hazard whispered with the sharpness of a knife. “Let the realization blossom…” she paused. She lifted her eyebrows and smirked. “Appropriate enough for you, Bloom’n. Let the reality blossom.” She breathed slowly.