( quinn's reassurances only get a noncommittal scoff in response as his eyes scan the crowd, seek something -- someone else to look at. he's happy to fawn over her, ogle her freely, feed her ego at any other given moment, but tonight? tonight felt different - like he'd lost a battle he didn't realize he was a part of. it's not even the fact that he did mess up onstage, considering he's done it loads of times. it's mostly the deep bruise on his ego that she put there without hesitation, caused his brain to virtually short circuit, caused him to make a bloody fool of himself. perhaps it's egocentric of him to think more of himself rather than the quality of the show, but it is what it is.
besides, her reassurances feel fake, just one more part of her plan to throw him off of his game tonight. any other night, he messes up a single note and she's all but chewing his head off, glaring at him and whispering in his ear how completely replaceable he is and how he's going to ruin everything they've accomplished. and still, somehow, he prefers that over these niceties, though that may also have to do with the fact that when she is blatantly angry with him, it usually results in him proving to her just how much she needs him, one way or another.
his efforts at locating some sort of distraction prove to be for naught when her hand so easily pulls the bottle from his hand, his head turning to follow its path into her grasp. could almost let out a bitter laugh when she asks permission, as though he hasn't done the same to her drinks before, as though his tongue hasn't been in her mouth what must be hundreds of times by now. instead, he gives a shrug of his shoulders, a short, ) By all means.
( but she's already drinking and gideon's already back to staring, predictably, as her lips wrap around the lip of the bottle and stay there for what feels like an honest to god eternity until she's tipping the bottle back in his direction. to say that he's tense as he takes the beer back from her, painfully aware of the small gap of space between her hip and his, would be the understatement of the century. )
May dip out early tonight. You're more than welcome to join me, if you'd like. ( which hopefully doesn't sound desperate -- he's anything but, obviously. he could grab the hand of any girl at this stupid afterparty and leave with her, and do it without feeling disappointed that she isn't the devilishly coy blonde that's tormented him all evening. that's what he keeps telling himself. )
( there's a sweet kind of victory in the way that he looks at her, blatant and unapologetic. without glancing over, she can practically feel his eyes brushing over every inch of exposed skin. lingering at the hem of her skirt and the tanned skin it does absolutely nothing to hide, at the sweater that might as well not be there for all that it masks. tantalizing far more than hiding. so far from the --mostly-- proper girl he'd med back in new haven. a creature from an entirely different life, one she barely recognizes any more much less belongs to.
if the way that he stares is a victory, than his faux casual admission that he may just be leaving early, the invitation that isn't really an invitation --as if it's something he's just mulling over and not a decision made the second he arrived at the after party-- certainly is.
too pleased with herself to bother hiding the fact, it shows in the way she stands, just a little bit straighter than usual --though her normal posture is anything but a slouch-- her shoulders back and testing the limits of that little red shrug. the way she can't seem to stop grinning and everything and nothing. except now there's a tightrope that she has to cross. towing the fine line between remaining his sole focus for the rest of the night, or damaging his ego so much that he snaps. grabs the arm of some girl younger even than quinn. one who'll fawn over him and tell him how handsome and talented he is all to have the privilege of fucking a celebrity.
no, this entire night has been too perfect for her to throw it away now.
so she doesn't respond immediately. turns instead to place herself directly in front of him. with the distance between them unchanged, she's practically standing between his legs and for a brief moment, only really noticeable to those paying close attention (which she knows he is) the fingers of one hand toy idly with the material of his shirt.
tipping her face up just faintly, so she's looking at him from beneath long dark lashes, her lower lip stills out slightly, in a pout that's not remotely devious or underhanded in any way. unless, of course, you know her. )
Come on, it's too early to leave yet. ( if the party itself isn't enough to convince, then maybe that pout will help. ) Let's just stay and enjoy it for a while.
( taking a half step away, her fingers catch in the front of his shirt, curling to give a tug. gentle at first, though fully prepared to be a little more insistent if he tries to resist. ) Don't you want to dance with me?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
besides, her reassurances feel fake, just one more part of her plan to throw him off of his game tonight. any other night, he messes up a single note and she's all but chewing his head off, glaring at him and whispering in his ear how completely replaceable he is and how he's going to ruin everything they've accomplished. and still, somehow, he prefers that over these niceties, though that may also have to do with the fact that when she is blatantly angry with him, it usually results in him proving to her just how much she needs him, one way or another.
his efforts at locating some sort of distraction prove to be for naught when her hand so easily pulls the bottle from his hand, his head turning to follow its path into her grasp. could almost let out a bitter laugh when she asks permission, as though he hasn't done the same to her drinks before, as though his tongue hasn't been in her mouth what must be hundreds of times by now. instead, he gives a shrug of his shoulders, a short, ) By all means.
( but she's already drinking and gideon's already back to staring, predictably, as her lips wrap around the lip of the bottle and stay there for what feels like an honest to god eternity until she's tipping the bottle back in his direction. to say that he's tense as he takes the beer back from her, painfully aware of the small gap of space between her hip and his, would be the understatement of the century. )
May dip out early tonight. You're more than welcome to join me, if you'd like. ( which hopefully doesn't sound desperate -- he's anything but, obviously. he could grab the hand of any girl at this stupid afterparty and leave with her, and do it without feeling disappointed that she isn't the devilishly coy blonde that's tormented him all evening. that's what he keeps telling himself. )
no subject
if the way that he stares is a victory, than his faux casual admission that he may just be leaving early, the invitation that isn't really an invitation --as if it's something he's just mulling over and not a decision made the second he arrived at the after party-- certainly is.
too pleased with herself to bother hiding the fact, it shows in the way she stands, just a little bit straighter than usual --though her normal posture is anything but a slouch-- her shoulders back and testing the limits of that little red shrug. the way she can't seem to stop grinning and everything and nothing. except now there's a tightrope that she has to cross. towing the fine line between remaining his sole focus for the rest of the night, or damaging his ego so much that he snaps. grabs the arm of some girl younger even than quinn. one who'll fawn over him and tell him how handsome and talented he is all to have the privilege of fucking a celebrity.
no, this entire night has been too perfect for her to throw it away now.
so she doesn't respond immediately. turns instead to place herself directly in front of him. with the distance between them unchanged, she's practically standing between his legs and for a brief moment, only really noticeable to those paying close attention (which she knows he is) the fingers of one hand toy idly with the material of his shirt.
tipping her face up just faintly, so she's looking at him from beneath long dark lashes, her lower lip stills out slightly, in a pout that's not remotely devious or underhanded in any way. unless, of course, you know her. )
Come on, it's too early to leave yet. ( if the party itself isn't enough to convince, then maybe that pout will help. ) Let's just stay and enjoy it for a while.
( taking a half step away, her fingers catch in the front of his shirt, curling to give a tug. gentle at first, though fully prepared to be a little more insistent if he tries to resist. ) Don't you want to dance with me?