watching him move around the room has always been something that's fascinated her when he got like this ------------ an unmistakable cross between a very specific dance and an animal caught pacing in a too - small cage. it's not her that his annoyance is directed towards per se, but she gets to unceremoniously stand in as a proxy since she's the only other one in the room. she lets him rant; narrate his side of all this in whatever tone and colorful language he likes, knowing the question that's going to come at the tail end of this ---------------- 'you'd trust me in this situation, right?' and knowing he isn't going to like her answer to it either ------- 'fuck no,' ( perhaps it's just her wanting to play devil's advocate, even though she loathes that angle; or maybe she's simply trying to wind him up a little bit more because she knows what doing that usually gets her. )
@killerfund gives her the reaction she'd expected, an exasperated look on his face and hands with an icon - clad grip on the top of the empty chair directly across from her. ❝ you don’t trust me. i’m shocked and saddened by that. ❞ it takes serious effort not to smirk, or linger too long on the way he looks at her from across the way. either one of which will only get her in more trouble with him; not less.
"you're really not, though," she's already gone back to the newspaper spread out two pages wide in front of her, finger taping against the side of the highlighter she's got pinned between two of them. "because you know that i know better than that, just as i know at any given time, you don't trust me completely. ------------- but if you want me to agree with you in this, sure. i'll give you that."