( at some point, she probably ought to stand up. they both ought to, but as per usual, quinn is her own primary concern. if her jeans were damp from hurried snow angels, they're not soaked almost entirely through, and the longer she sits unmoving, the easier the cold is able to sink in, making her teeth chatter faintly. a sound quickly stopped when she glances back at him, chin resting on her shoulder and genuinely pleased grin still firmly in place.
so this is what fun feels like. she had almost forgotten. )
When you say it like that, it makes it sound like you're going to pull a rabbit out of a hat. ( and honestly, at this point, she wouldn't be surprised if that was his next move. it seems like he's done a little bit of everything, tried everything. why not that too?
with a muffled groan, she stretches for her fallen hat, squealing faintly when her coat rides up just enough for a fresh drift of snow to hit her back. probably should have seen that coming though.
shoving the hat into her coat pocket (because HA what's the point now?) she shifts onto her knees in the snowbank, holding one mittened hand out to him. refraining from pulling his hood down again, even though it's tempting. just to see how he'd react this time. ) Come on. You don't think Frosty can handle you, but I want to see if you can handle Frosty.
Nah, I'm savin' that one for the next time I feel the need to impress you. ( he teases, tugging his own hat off his head and waving it around as though to shake out any spare bunny rabbits. rest assured, gideon's small mammal-free. animal cruelty isn't quite his style.
the beanie is shoved in his jacket pocket, hand lingering there as he catches a glimpse of the pale skin of her back -- immediately pelted with snow, bringing forth a full on belly laugh from gideon as he pushes himself into a sitting position. there's something so utterly undignified about the two of them laying here, the snow absolutely making them its bitch, and yet they don't really seem to do anything about it. gideon's certain that he likes this side of quinn just a tad more than the grace and poise she typically wears so well.
he glances up at her and her outstretched hand quite skeptically. tries to weigh his options. this could be another trap, after all. and even still, he's gideon fucking fletcher and he's not afraid of now't. certainly not a beautiful, snow-covered blonde.
with that, he takes that mittened hand of hers in his own bare one, allows her to help him to his feet. adds, as he brushes the loose snow off the back of his wet corduroys: ) Seems a bit unfair to Frosty, doesn't it? I've got a considerable size advantage here.
( it's this unrestrained or, at least, less restrained side of quinn that most people seem to prefer, including quinn herself. which just makes it that much more baffling that it's the side she most represses. traps behind the walls built to protect herself, the mask of perfection that's become so much a part of her life she's no longer sure how, or if it can be gotten rid of for good.
that she's choosing to reveal this side of herself now says more about her level of comfort with him than even giving him a place to stay does. it's no small feat for her to let her guard down this way. )
I must have missed the part where you were trying to impress me to begin with. ( unless it was the night they met, at which point he was far from subtle. an over-confident and only faintly charming irishman who refused to leave her alone for most of the night. it would have been simple to get him to go away, she had considered it even then. give him the dance he kept asking for and blow him off like so many others before. but it was so much more entertaining to refuse and watch him re-double his efforts.
watching him attempt to clean himself up somewhat, biting at her bottom lip, she crouches to scoop up another snowball. weighing it in one soaked mitten and debating. it would be so easy to...- and then he looks up and she's all innocence again. smiling brightly, and in no way suspicious. unless you've met her, in which case... ) I'm not sure size has any bearing when we're talking about a magical snowman.
( snowball still in hand -in a totally nonthreatening way!- she takes a shuffling half-step towards him. ) Or are you just trying to make excuses to go back inside because you can't handle the snow?
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
buried in the tagvalanche
Date: 2015-03-02 06:25 am (UTC)so this is what fun feels like. she had almost forgotten. )
When you say it like that, it makes it sound like you're going to pull a rabbit out of a hat. ( and honestly, at this point, she wouldn't be surprised if that was his next move. it seems like he's done a little bit of everything, tried everything. why not that too?
with a muffled groan, she stretches for her fallen hat, squealing faintly when her coat rides up just enough for a fresh drift of snow to hit her back. probably should have seen that coming though.
shoving the hat into her coat pocket (because HA what's the point now?) she shifts onto her knees in the snowbank, holding one mittened hand out to him. refraining from pulling his hood down again, even though it's tempting. just to see how he'd react this time. ) Come on. You don't think Frosty can handle you, but I want to see if you can handle Frosty.
no subject
Date: 2015-03-02 07:15 am (UTC)the beanie is shoved in his jacket pocket, hand lingering there as he catches a glimpse of the pale skin of her back -- immediately pelted with snow, bringing forth a full on belly laugh from gideon as he pushes himself into a sitting position. there's something so utterly undignified about the two of them laying here, the snow absolutely making them its bitch, and yet they don't really seem to do anything about it. gideon's certain that he likes this side of quinn just a tad more than the grace and poise she typically wears so well.
he glances up at her and her outstretched hand quite skeptically. tries to weigh his options. this could be another trap, after all. and even still, he's gideon fucking fletcher and he's not afraid of now't. certainly not a beautiful, snow-covered blonde.
with that, he takes that mittened hand of hers in his own bare one, allows her to help him to his feet. adds, as he brushes the loose snow off the back of his wet corduroys: ) Seems a bit unfair to Frosty, doesn't it? I've got a considerable size advantage here.
no subject
Date: 2015-03-04 04:55 am (UTC)that she's choosing to reveal this side of herself now says more about her level of comfort with him than even giving him a place to stay does. it's no small feat for her to let her guard down this way. )
I must have missed the part where you were trying to impress me to begin with. ( unless it was the night they met, at which point he was far from subtle. an over-confident and only faintly charming irishman who refused to leave her alone for most of the night. it would have been simple to get him to go away, she had considered it even then. give him the dance he kept asking for and blow him off like so many others before. but it was so much more entertaining to refuse and watch him re-double his efforts.
watching him attempt to clean himself up somewhat, biting at her bottom lip, she crouches to scoop up another snowball. weighing it in one soaked mitten and debating. it would be so easy to...- and then he looks up and she's all innocence again. smiling brightly, and in no way suspicious. unless you've met her, in which case... ) I'm not sure size has any bearing when we're talking about a magical snowman.
( snowball still in hand -in a totally nonthreatening way!- she takes a shuffling half-step towards him. ) Or are you just trying to make excuses to go back inside because you can't handle the snow?