☤ twenty-seven

[as_damaged]

[Accidental Audio]

[CRASH.

CRASH.

CRASH. CRASH.

splinter splinter crash. There is heavy breathing in the background.

...crash.]




[ooc; action for Chase and mebbe Angela, and um, anyone who happens to live in their apartments/surrounding apts who might notice the breaking and entering. sob. i don't even.]

Comments

[break on through to the other side]

[worksmart.livejournal.com]

[He knows how well they fit. A little too well for comfort when the other person whose contours he knows as closely is taking a very long time to come back and tell him she's joking. If he can just keep up the small talk with Cameron, as he did with Eden, let her think he's compliant...

If only he wasn't oddly compelled to comply.

If only she hadn't just cut off all possibility of smalltalk along with the rest of his powers of sentient verbal communication. It's the first time he's heard that. From anyone. In years. At least the marriage proposal seemed ridiculous enough to laugh off. This.

It's just impossible. She's voided whatever game he was trying to play to get through this, the look he gives her in return for a moment too open and unguarded to hide the vulnerability behind the shock.]

No, you don't. You're cursed and you don't know what the hell you're talking about.

[His tone, still belied by his stare, grows almost petulant.]

If you were in your right mind, you'd kill me for taking you at your word.

[break on through to the other side]

[as_damaged]

You're the one that's turned me down, now. Twice.

[Her fingers drum along the back of his neck once, softly. Only teasingly reproachful, she smiles again.]

But I'll forgive you. Come home with me?

[break on through to the other side]

[worksmart.livejournal.com]

Okay. What?

[He's questioning himself, the agreement having slipped out through what feels like instinct, or habit. Her arms were round him, staking their claim, and there's some kind of rule to this. Some rule from some fake holiday in country he's not even native to, with dubious reasons for cross-pollenating into this place. He was the slowest runner, or she was the quickest in pursuit. Reason wars with responsibility, and compromises through delaying tactics.]

Okay. Just, let me call someone to come check on Eden. And I'll have to tell Peter where I'm going.

[He'll have to tell Peter a few things, when he realises his room mate is headed for the next apartment over. Peter might be blind, but colourful language is an art appreciable by all.]

[break on through to the other side]

[as_damaged]

Call for Eden. Peter's fine. After, we can go.

[Her words carry a tone of unwitting command, though she's completely casual about it, stepping back to free his hands while remaining too close for comfort.]