#midasinverse

[soprela]

“Thought you might want some company.” !!!

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑂𝑃𝑅𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑆 : @midasinverse

there's no response for him at first, she just glances back to him from her place standing by the pool, wrapped in a robe with the dwindling cherry of a cigarette steadily growing dimmer in the dark. it's not something she does often -- typically it's the sort of thing she'd quickly extinguish underfoot at the sound of his arrival, but this time she doesn't bother. this time, she lets him come to a stop beside her, her gaze returned forward as she lifts the filter back to her lips and drags on the remainder, the soft orange flare glowing brighter for just a moment before she does drop it, issuing a jet of a smoke from the corner of her mouth furthest from him. "you sure?" her head turns toward him, and she doesn't stamp the cigarette out. instead, it merely lies on the ground there between them, the pitiful ember left to die out on its own.

"or were you trying to catch me doing something i shouldn't be?" although she's capable of it, there is no biting derision. on the contrary, it's almost companionable, almost friendly. it's not a quite a smile resting on her lips, but the suggestion of one is hinted there, barely.

[vitalphenomena]

@midasinverse said: it must be my accent or something.

Maryanne laughs a little. She tries to sound all coy and demure, like her stage presence is her real presence, but it comes off clearly awkward and strained.

It's early - three o'clock in the afternoon, maybe four. There's nobody here who've got anything good going on. The first shift of dancers twirl and spin and strut and Maryanne watches, feeling nothing like herself, feeling like she could never do what they do with their bodies even though she's already dressed the part, and all.

The truth of the matter is, Maryanne has no idea who to be around Tony Soprano. He's unlocked something dark and strong and capable inside her already - something that helps a near-stranger get away with murder because it'll benefit her financially. (Maybe it was the money, because that makes her actions sound slightly more compelling and defensible. Maybe it was just because she could finally do something in her life, instead of things being done to her.)

Maryanne isn't ready to confront this new side of herself; she resents Tony approaching her, making her flinch, making her remember going to a reputable pawn shop (if such a thing does indeed exist) with the ruby thumb ring he'd offered as payment that first night.

"It's more than your accent that makes you recognizable." You're the fucking boss, you run this place, I'm a cog in your machine - should be nothing more. You shouldn't have to notice me at all.

"You've got these shirts you always wear, and a certain way you always wear them." Kind of sluttily, she thinks briefly, but she doesn't chase that near-disparaging thought.

"Also," because it can't be emphasized enough, "You run this place, and you've given me plenty of reasons to be scared half-shitless by you coming anywhere near me. Haven't you?"

[soprela]

“Alright, enough of this shit. What’s wrong with you?”

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑂𝑃𝑅𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑆 : @midasinverse

"oh, really nice, anthony." contempt twists her features into something like a sneer, her back soon turned to him as she paces away and into the bathroom, her hands raising as she goes, like she's putting the matter from her mind by force. "do me a favor, huh?"

her attention is forced downward, fingers moving to pluck at the catch of her watch, the gold glinting in the light as she works to remove it from her wrist. around her face, a few fine strands of hair have come free from the clip meant to keep them : the price exacted by the incessant headshaking this circular argument has inspired in her. irritation makes her movements careless, but eventually she manages to undo the clasp, and it's in her hand when she turns back to him. "don't hurt yourself pretending to care."