Lion Head Mesa needy boy speeding off in a limo stretch

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The boy looks upon this woman as a starving man looks upon stale bread; as a drowning man witnesses floating wreckage in the wake of disaster.

Despite the tension in his body (perhaps because of it) he takes a few motions closer as he is lulled by her voice.

Not too close—but enough so his low, laviscious words can rumble to her hotly, Diwelat metorgas oakah ovrakh, mezhah; sorfo thom, and he spits at her again, this time squarely in the face.

His laughter thunders in the room and he sinks against the wall again, comforted by the shadows; his eyes brightly staring out at her in triumph.