[ It happens now and then - perhaps more than now and then - that when he looks at her, everything about her softens. Her smile turns daft and light, and whatever troubles she might have been carrying a moment before evaporate. Maybe it's the newness of this relationship, and maybe in a few weeks, a few months, she'll start picking apart all the problems they face. All the flaws in him that she finds so unconcerning now. Maybe she's just happy to have someone, anyone, giving her their full attention. Fixing her with it the way he does.
She doesn't think that's true. The intimate softness and gentleness of him is too achingly lovely. The catastrophe that he is in public appeals too much to her need to be needed. How he plays with her, how he doesn't rebuff her, shrug off her touches or snap at her when his head's pounding and his nerves are frayed, as if she's a comfort rather than a nuisance.
He never makes her feel like a nuisance.
God, she wants to kiss his stupid scrunched nose.
Better to keep the game rolling, because she thinks she may have distracted him from the whiskey for a few minutes. Not that she minds particularly if he gives in, but if she can drive home some point - that once he gets his mind off it, the call isn't quite so strong - it'll be better in the long run.
But he's adorable. He's so fucking adorable, and she feels an agreeable, fuzzy sort of warmth just from that brief moment of eye contact.
She backs off a little, giving him room to turn over, to chase her this way, to maybe put his back to the thing torturing him from the nightstand. Her smile widens, more teeth than necessary, a shit-eating grin. ]
Ask Wallace if you have the right mindset for deviance? What if he only confirms it because you're his friend?
[ Katrina ducks down, resting her chin on her forearm, eyes wide as though an epiphany has struck. ]
Fish, what if marriage made you soft? You're going to end up golfing and driving a sensible sedan. Cut your hair. Acquire dad bod. All your friends drink IPAs and watch Fox News.
no subject
She doesn't think that's true. The intimate softness and gentleness of him is too achingly lovely. The catastrophe that he is in public appeals too much to her need to be needed. How he plays with her, how he doesn't rebuff her, shrug off her touches or snap at her when his head's pounding and his nerves are frayed, as if she's a comfort rather than a nuisance.
He never makes her feel like a nuisance.
God, she wants to kiss his stupid scrunched nose.
Better to keep the game rolling, because she thinks she may have distracted him from the whiskey for a few minutes. Not that she minds particularly if he gives in, but if she can drive home some point - that once he gets his mind off it, the call isn't quite so strong - it'll be better in the long run.
But he's adorable. He's so fucking adorable, and she feels an agreeable, fuzzy sort of warmth just from that brief moment of eye contact.
She backs off a little, giving him room to turn over, to chase her this way, to maybe put his back to the thing torturing him from the nightstand. Her smile widens, more teeth than necessary, a shit-eating grin. ]
Ask Wallace if you have the right mindset for deviance? What if he only confirms it because you're his friend?
[ Katrina ducks down, resting her chin on her forearm, eyes wide as though an epiphany has struck. ]
Fish, what if marriage made you soft? You're going to end up golfing and driving a sensible sedan. Cut your hair. Acquire dad bod. All your friends drink IPAs and watch Fox News.