[ it's a simple question, asked as simply as possible; her head tips to the side as she shifts to turn towards him, knees pulling up to her side. if he wants to sidestep all of her questions with convenient excuses and deflections, she might as well return the favor. ]
If you don't care, and you're not offering, I don't see why it matters.
[ her fingertips toy with the hem of the cardigan, considering it for a moment. ]
[ he stares forward for a long time, saying nothing, doing nothing. there are many ways he could take this conversation and he finds himself considering those options while he's quiet, while he can feel her watching him.
in the end, he shakes his head and shoves everything else aside, all the emotional wants of his mind and the physical needs of his body. he won't let himself go down that road again. he doesn't know her.
so, he pushes himself to his feet and retrieves the keys he'd tossed aside earlier. he holds them out in front of him. ]
It doesn't matter.
[ it did. he just doesn't want to admit that. ]
Take the keys and go home.
[ it's getting harder and harder to maintain his composure and distance the longer she's here. ]
[ she eyes him for a moment, gaze glancing back and forth between the expression on his face and the keys held outright between them. there's a firmness to it, the tight set of his jaw and the slight narrow of his eyes, that doesn't quite feel natural. ]
That's okay. [ she doesn't want to drive his car. or take his cardigan home, for that matter; it gets peeled off and dropped over his outstretched hand. in its wake, the neckline of daisy's dress shifts, betraying a patch of bare skin underneath. ] I'll call an Uber or something, you can keep your car.
[ if he doesn't want her here, she'll leave. she can find the front door just fine without much help. ]
[ it wasn't about what he wanted. it was about what was smart and this — it wasn't smart. no, what was smart was getting her out of here before he let his guard down anymore. before her words dug themselves deeper underneath his skin and he wasn't able to push them away before they took a permanent hold.
he takes the sweater back, folding it in his hands and looking up at her. ]
Whatever you want.
[ he'd leave the porch light on so she wouldn't have to wait in the dark. wasn't he just the nicest person? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ it's a simple question, asked as simply as possible; her head tips to the side as she shifts to turn towards him, knees pulling up to her side. if he wants to sidestep all of her questions with convenient excuses and deflections, she might as well return the favor. ]
If you don't care, and you're not offering, I don't see why it matters.
[ her fingertips toy with the hem of the cardigan, considering it for a moment. ]
no subject
in the end, he shakes his head and shoves everything else aside, all the emotional wants of his mind and the physical needs of his body. he won't let himself go down that road again. he doesn't know her.
so, he pushes himself to his feet and retrieves the keys he'd tossed aside earlier. he holds them out in front of him. ]
It doesn't matter.
[ it did. he just doesn't want to admit that. ]
Take the keys and go home.
[ it's getting harder and harder to maintain his composure and distance the longer she's here. ]
no subject
That's okay. [ she doesn't want to drive his car. or take his cardigan home, for that matter; it gets peeled off and dropped over his outstretched hand. in its wake, the neckline of daisy's dress shifts, betraying a patch of bare skin underneath. ] I'll call an Uber or something, you can keep your car.
[ if he doesn't want her here, she'll leave. she can find the front door just fine without much help. ]
no subject
he takes the sweater back, folding it in his hands and looking up at her. ]
Whatever you want.
[ he'd leave the porch light on so she wouldn't have to wait in the dark. wasn't he just the nicest person? ]
I'll see you around.