She had to force herself not to spit out a damnation that claimed it was a poor shame that Percy had just missed out on the chaos of the city come new years, a stricken slip of her own good nature neither fault of her own self control or her irritation in seeing him here now. It simply stemmed from the knowledge that perhaps she’d have been more on guard had he been here in the first place. Already willing to see the possibility of at least one person trying to push her over the edge. “I don’t believe in coincidences when it comes to you.” She’d known him far too long to believe that he was simply this lucky, so lucky that any ounce of connection she might have felt towards him was enough to leave him alive, despite being such a terrible influence in her life.
The breath that she could finally take, as unnecessary as it was, sat a little easier now that they were somewhat alone. The milling scent of the people below a little less pungent and the steady thrum of beating hearts a faint rhythm. I’ll stop pretending if you do. A stark reminder that he could see right through her efforts in trying, and when she stepped back, placing more distance between them than might have been necessary, but being close to Percy was almost as toxic as it was to listen to him. Poetic and usually all too convincing, he was the chink in her armor that she could never seem to rid herself of. “I’m not pretending — I’ve never pretended.” Spoken through grit teeth, Isa could only imagine the retort he might conjure up. “We’re not all like you, I’m not like you.”
“Well you should because this is,” he rolled his eyes at her. Of course he’d known she was in the city but he hadn’t really cared. Not until their paths had crossed. In the same vein, Isadora might’ve easily have left his presence but hadn’t. No–– she’d chosen to engage and open this gate and now that she had, Percy wasn’t about to let her slide. “You know, I was about to say you could’ve walked away but...thinking about it a bit more, you really couldn’t, could you?” He quirked a knowing brow, “you never do.” There was something about his presence that roped her in and they both knew that just like they knew she’d fight off whatever baser instincts called to her in the name of remaining good.
He pushed himself off from the wall she’d so rudely jerked him against and shrugged, fixing his previously pressed shirt, now ridden with wrinkles. Shame. “You always say that too,” he laughed easily, brushing a hand across his clean shaven jaw, “how you’re not like me, you’ll never be like me, you hate me, you want me to leave, yada yada yada.” History truly did repeat itself where Izzy and he were concerned. It couldn’t be helped. “You’ll continue to insist you’re not pretending until one day you snap and then you realize I was right all along, as usual. Really, Izzy,” he drew closer, stopping short a few feet away to avoid getting thrown into another wall or, even off the roof altogether, “aren’t you tired of acting like something else might happen? We both know how this goes.” She wasn’t nearly as stable as she seemed and despite how desperately she wished she was, the reality of the situation wouldn’t change: Isadora Bordeaux was always one step away from snapping altogether and Percy saw that clear as day.
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