Pneumaion, Part 2

Thomas shifted in his chair at this enigmatical remark; the only outward sign of his intense irritation with his uncanny friend. A dull silence fell as Steven turned his eyes back to his book and Thomas stared very straight ahead. There was an elasticity of thought lately in Steven that positively confounded the pattern exactness of Thomas’ ideas. Whether Thomas had been born with a regimented mind, or made the choice of it as a man, very few could tell. But he had a march of well-chosen thoughts and self-willed belief that could not bear to withstand even the whisper of a strike against their validity. Steven was presumptuous to think himself even qualified to contemplate such ideas.
But beyond that, the questions, those needless musings regarding mortality and the soul, asked by the unpredictable man across from him, sent a strange and sudden quiver of anger through Thomas that shook him like an unknown fear.
He sat for a moment as the odd sensation vibrated through his thought, sat and let it suffuse the waiting rows of his words with the vim they needed.
A sudden flame lashed out from the aging fire, whipping its light across Thomas’ face so that Steven looked up. Thomas sat straighter.
“Steven,” he began, leaning forward now in his turn, “why, I mean truly, why are you like this so often lately, do you do it as a joke? Do you ask these questions to provoke me to animation?”
Thomas drew a breath, his face so taut that Steven could not doubt his determination to conceal all animation whatsoever. Steven, however, cocked a highly animated eyebrow and put his book down.
“What?” he half laughed, throwing his hands dramatically for good measure, “do you never ask such questions? I’ll admit, the day has me in a rather giddy mood, I don’t know why, must be the storm. But I don’t ask the questions idly. Truly,” and Steven leaned forward to meet the banked fire of Thomas’ eyes with an equal dance of shadow and flame in his own, “I do ask them seriously. I’ve been thinking of them, well, quite a lot lately. I suppose it’s rather a dangerous thing to read the old classics, they are…”
But he was interrupted by the industrious tap of the waitress’ shoes on the weathered wood floor. In an instant more, the hearthstones that served as their table were laden with two fat, steaming mugs and a miniature jug of cream. Steven reached for his cup instantly, burning his fingers, and not minding in the least as he inhaled the fragrance of the fresh brew.
“The elixir of thought, I am quite sure,” he smiled, sending a thank you glance up to the girl. Thomas waited to seize his waiting mug until the girl was almost gone, but nearly dropped it again when Steven suddenly reached a restraining hand out to the her as she hurried away.
“Wait, just a moment, Would you answer a silly question for me, I mean the question isn’t silly, I am for asking, but all the same?”
She gave Steven a quizzical smile and glanced questioningly at Thomas, but turned back impatiently, waiting with lifted eyebrows for the unguessed question.
“Do you think a person could lose their soul? Or, I suppose, do you think about the soul at all, it’s rather an issue of debate between my friend here and myself.”
She laughed, suddenly and freely, casting away her practiced busyness and crossing her arms.
“Are you serious? The soul? What are you, a priest in training?”
“No indeed,” and Steven laughed heartily at that, “no by all that’s good, I’m not. I just want to know as a matter of debate, do you ever consider your soul?”
“Only on very misty mornings and very foggy nights. When else is there time?”
And with that, she gave a laughing nod to each of them, rolling her eyes as she resumed her fallen hurry and tapped quickly away.
“Ah well, I guess I am the only one, at least in here,” began Steven, burrowing back into his chair, but was stopped as Thomas stood abruptly.
“Why must you do that?.”
The words were tersely spoken and Thomas’ movements were equally crisp as he pulled his coat into unwrinkled attention over his shoulders.
“Why must you drag normal people into your stupid discussions? You are so rude, pulling her into a ridiculous debate… ah, I simply can’t sit here with you and discuss impossible things any more. All day I’ve noticed it and I won’t stand it anymore. You have grown strange, and I know why. You are listening to people and reading things you never should, and I will not encourage it with my presence. Goodbye.”
He thumped a coin down on the table to pay for his untouched mug of coffee and strode out the door…..