She once told Eliot she’d never date an Illusionist.
“They’re always playing mind games...literally.” She once told him during a study night.
Who knew Margo the Destroyer would fall head over heals for an Illusionist? She definitely was not expecting it.
She casually offered the idea of taking shrooms and practicing herbal spells.
When she mentioned it, it sounded like another one of her random ideas that she’d sometimes blurt. You quickly realized that she was trying to indirectly ask you out on a date.
You accepted her offer, not thinking she was serious until you heard a knock at your door.
There she was, in a floral dress with her hair curled.
“And judging by your facial expression, you didn’t think I was actually coming...” she sounds defeated so you quickly fix yourself and treat her like she deserves.
It started out as a simple regeneration charm on a daisy but then Margo upped the game.
“Bet I can make a psychedelic sandwich before you.” She taunts.
“What do I get if I win?”
She leans in all sultry and shit. “I’ll blow you.”
Bursting out into a fit of giggles you remind her you don’t have that appendage.
“Shit...wrong gender.”
You win her little contest but you can tell she’s so fucking out of it. (But in all fairness, so are you.)
Someway, somehow you both end up on her bed staring at stars you’ve conjured.
She turns to you all fuzzy headed and euphoric, “You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. No one’s ever this nice to me without wanting something.”
“You’re different then other people Margo; you don’t give a fuck what other people think about you. You don’t conform to the standards the world gave us. I like that about you.”
She leans up and kisses you. “You’re special.” She turns over on her back. “I don’t want this feeling to end.”
“Aww...” you brush a piece of hair out her face. "I’m sorry babe but the shrooms will probably wear off real soon.”
She starts laughing a little. Its kind of adorable. “We’d be cute together.”
“Yeah...we would, but I’d feel better if I heard you say that while sober.”
The next morning when you’re woken up by Eliot (Margo’s presumed best friend) bursting through the door. He makes some snarky remark along the lines of, “Seems my Bambi has found her mate. Please don’t tell me you two snorted all my coke.”
What the hell is a Bambi?
“Get out!” She throws a pillow. “Dickhead.”
She doesn’t talk to you for a few days. No calls. No texts. Not even an email.
Eliot saw you in the library and made some comment about how you’re just her type and that she should stop playing hard to get.
So, what do you do when someone’s playing hard to get? You do the opposite.
Now you’re standing in front of her bedroom door mumbling to yourself. “Margo’s gonna hate this. Margo’s gonna think you’re weird. Margo’s probably going to slam the door in your face. Margo-”
“What are you doing here?”
“Margo! Hi, I though I’d- uhm”
“Spit it out baby bird.”
“I got this for you.” You hand her a sandwich and she gives you a curious look while taking it. “Its been charmed. It will give you a euphoric feeling without all the memory loss and dizziness.”
She opens the counter to take a peak. “Not bad.”
“Be ready at nine, I’m driving.” You tell her.
“Excuse me?”
“No more playing hard to get.” You turn to walk towards the stairs. “Nine pm sharp Margo!” You call over your shoulder.
“That bitch.” She crosses her arms.
You came back to the cottage around 8:50 something and you can bet your bottom dollar she was dressed and ready.
I need to rewatch season 4 before 15.01 but I feel like I am not ready to process so many emotions yet. It seems those bitches scarred me for life. Ugh.
