Light eyes made dark by pupils more swollen than a pregnant belly, Bradley studied Ethan in mildly amused silence. He seemed, to her, to possess all the innocence of a schoolboy that still clung to his father’s trouser leg when he heard the boom of a stranger’s voice at the front door. Unsure of himself, almost, in a way that was so foreign to Bradley it almost left her barking out a laugh. Regardless, her expression remained unreadable, even as she sidled closer and burned her gaze intently on his. “Don’t know. Bigger than a coin. Smaller than a decent dick. That kind of size, I’d imagine,” she floated airily, testing for a reaction in the way a child pokes a sharp stick at a dead thing on the roadside. “Just one of those things. A classic Dyson, gerbil slurp sort of situation. You know how it is,” slipped out along with a faint smile, as if that were a regular, staple thing of society and her saying so would incite a soft nod of recognition from him. It was often she was saying these things, urging people into reflexive agreement without really trying to, paving a new normal for those drunk enough on her to indulge it. “You’re shy,” she observed, more statement than question. “Do your cheeks go all pink and blotchy when you get changed in a public place? A locker room?” Hopping up to perch on the bathroom counter, her dark hair draped her cheeks like theatre curtains, smudges of kohl around her eyelashes taking centre stage. “I bet you have to clear your throat three times if a girl shows you her thigh. Raunchy,” she murmured, offering up a lie in the form of a compliment next. An act of charity, one you’d never read as anything but genuine. “Sweet.”
Everything about her seemed - intense, for lack of a better word. And at the moment, Ethan couldn’t be bothered to think of one, anyway; they were a little busy trying to keep up with her in the first place. She seemed to be agreeable but...unreadable, still, something that they wanted to unpack. The trouble of it was, they weren’t sure what they’d find or if they could even handle it. “Wha - I’m not shy,” they argued, arms crossing, fighting to keep their voice even and not whiny or defensive, even though that was how they were feeling at the moment. Like a child that got accused of something they did do. “I’m just not used to this whole environment. I don’t really party, I’m mostly here because -” A pause. A brief moment where they didn’t know how to explain that they were only here because writing about kids in college meant wanting to observe other people’s way of life. “I’m here ‘cause I wanted to do something different.” There. Not a total lie. Just not a total truth, either. “You could test that theory any time you want.” It was a moment of stupid bravery, putting a challenge forward. They weren’t even sure where they wanted that one to go.
