Scordatura: II. Aria
Fine, so she’ll have to admit defeat… But that doesn’t mean she can’t get one over on that dick some other way, she thinks, scrambling off the bed with a combative grin on her face. It’s a low, petty impulse, and not one she’s overly familiar with – but she can feel how dangerously her anger is teetering on the edge of something worse, something she can’t handle. And she gets to be a little petty tonight. Sure, Andor’s a stick in the mud. Overly perceptive. With unsettling eyes. But he’s human. She’s seen the way he looked at her when she got close – and the way he’s acting, she’s willing to bet the man hasn’t been getting any for a while. So he’s nervous about the Stravinsky, poor thing. She can give him something else to think about. See how note-perfect he is then.
[read on Ao3]
