The Same Old Crowd

          "Does this ever get any easier?" Bronwyn Edith Turner asked of the shrubbery planted next to the dimly lit back porch in frustration. "Or am I doomed to be stuck here forever repeating the same damn childish games with the same old crowd?" Another question born of her irked ways for the unresponsive bushes as she used the ivory railing that wrapped around the porch as support for her spinning world.
          Nearby Marcus Gerald Durrel stood quietly to the left side of the open sliding door as a mixture of loud conversations and louder still music drifted out. For now he was content to play the part of the silent observer, having learned the hard way to not speak up during one of Bronwyn's monologues months ago. That first dared interjection had left him with a bruised eye and a spot on Bronwyn's black list for a couple of weeks. From then on it had been decided his dear was not one to share her feelings with an actual person. A trait that he found strange in comparison to his other female companions. Unfortunately for his vow of silence Bronwyn's outbursts and descents into somewhere dark were beginning to become more regular, leaving Marcus stuck on high alert in his mute location.
          "I've heard another drink or two or three helps kill the nerves and makes the same old crowd bearable," said a voice that neither Bronwyn or Marcus could place as someone stepped on to the porch from the illuminated world of the kitchen. The new comer's lips were curved upwards into a smile that Marcus would swear was a permanent fixture on their face due to the level of ease at which it rested there. "At least that's what I've always been told," the stranger added as he extended his right hand to hold out an unopened bottle of Blue Moon for Bronwyn.
          Startled failed to even begin to cover Bronwyn's level of surprise over the surprise over the unrecognized voice. At this point most people knew to let her stumble away from the crowd in peace to wrestle with her inner demons. Even strangers crowded around for a good time had managed to pick up on that unspoken rule. The exception to her no one allowed nearby policy being Marcus the speechless, but he had earned his keep after he survived one of her particularly bad nights and a stint on her bad least. "Who asked you?" Bronwyn spat out eventually as she turned for a moment to snatch up the offered beer.
          At these challenge filled words Marcus tensed up, rocking forward on the balls of his feet to be ready for action. Bronwyn was unlikely to require his assistance, but he was less certain of the unknown's safety. What his comrade lacked in height advantage she more than made up for with a combination of speed and various methods of self defense. A fact he knew to have the tendency to shock some drunkards that made passes at Bronwyn on nights they went out to the city to avoid the same old college crew. Really though most people shared that very same tendency to underestimate Bronwyn.
          "You did. Unless you were expecting the plant life to rise and talk," the newcomer replied, oblivious to the growing tension in the air. As he spoke he took another step out on to the porch, leaving the light that shadowed most of his features. The step and way he talked of the plant life made it clear to Marcus that he had not been noticed yes.
          "Maybe I wasn't looking for an answer." Bronwyn pointed out, doing her best to enunciate each word while keeping a leveled tone. An act that she failed to find easy due to a mixture of intoxication and a growing level of discomfort. Despite this unease or possibly even because of it she finally turned around to face down her foe. Her eyebrows raised for a moment in stunned recognition before she managed to regain her composure.
          "What's the point in asking questions then?" The fellow pressed on, taking a mental note of that swift moment of recollection. Later on he would take longer to sort out his feelings on her remembrance and quick dismissal. He had failed to realize who he had followed on to the porch himself up until he heard questions that he had heard the same girl ask years ago, so really he couldn't find fault in receiving the same treatment.