now there's a thought. such a return to form could be devoutly desired, but peggy must concede that it was 'business as usual' that brought them to this junction. or, rather, whatever passed for 'business' and 'usual' in wonderland. they'd gone and make a habit of each other -- or of spending one evening a week together, at any rate -- and look where it landed them. hungover and stuck treading water in the liminal seas between colleagues and...something else, peggy supposes.
but at least she has the satisfaction of seeing him appear as miserable as she feels. it makes the distance that much easier -- distance both physical and emotional. and she thinks she nearly gets away with her facade except that he comes shooting back at her with a mild accusation.
peggy's laughter sounds more like a groan. pained, but just a little. she sits up straighter and finally sees to yanking the hem of her skirt back into place. at some point during the night she'd eased the ppk out of its holster and now the gun sits on the table -- she doesn't reach for it. not yet. honestly, the whole motion is eerily reminiscent of that morning in the hallway. she remembers, now, how he'd averted his eyes then. ]
Is that so? [ haughty. her chin lifts. there's nothing but challenge and guff inside her words, as though she's just woken up in a pleasant little tangle with him and yet wants nothing more than to put him on his back foot. ] Do I look as though I feel rotten?
[ she knows she doesn't, and therein lies the guff. there's a tinge of red in the whites of her eyes and a smudge of dark exhaustion under her eyes -- or maybe that's only a faint smear of mascara. peggy looks a little pale, yes, but she's fair-skinned to begin with. outwardly, she does a marvelous job at fighting off the worst of it.
but inwardly! man alive, she feels hollowed out of everything but aches and pains. it's a little telling when she rubs the back of her own neck, digging her fingertips into the tight muscle above her shoulder blade.
it's more telling that she hasn't yet made any brave attempt to stand. instead, she sits where she slept -- watching him with dulled interest. peggy looks like she's swallowing down a question she'd otherwise love to ask. ]
no subject
now there's a thought. such a return to form could be devoutly desired, but peggy must concede that it was 'business as usual' that brought them to this junction. or, rather, whatever passed for 'business' and 'usual' in wonderland. they'd gone and make a habit of each other -- or of spending one evening a week together, at any rate -- and look where it landed them. hungover and stuck treading water in the liminal seas between colleagues and...something else, peggy supposes.
but at least she has the satisfaction of seeing him appear as miserable as she feels. it makes the distance that much easier -- distance both physical and emotional. and she thinks she nearly gets away with her facade except that he comes shooting back at her with a mild accusation.
peggy's laughter sounds more like a groan. pained, but just a little. she sits up straighter and finally sees to yanking the hem of her skirt back into place. at some point during the night she'd eased the ppk out of its holster and now the gun sits on the table -- she doesn't reach for it. not yet. honestly, the whole motion is eerily reminiscent of that morning in the hallway. she remembers, now, how he'd averted his eyes then. ]
Is that so? [ haughty. her chin lifts. there's nothing but challenge and guff inside her words, as though she's just woken up in a pleasant little tangle with him and yet wants nothing more than to put him on his back foot. ] Do I look as though I feel rotten?
[ she knows she doesn't, and therein lies the guff. there's a tinge of red in the whites of her eyes and a smudge of dark exhaustion under her eyes -- or maybe that's only a faint smear of mascara. peggy looks a little pale, yes, but she's fair-skinned to begin with. outwardly, she does a marvelous job at fighting off the worst of it.
but inwardly! man alive, she feels hollowed out of everything but aches and pains. it's a little telling when she rubs the back of her own neck, digging her fingertips into the tight muscle above her shoulder blade.
it's more telling that she hasn't yet made any brave attempt to stand. instead, she sits where she slept -- watching him with dulled interest. peggy looks like she's swallowing down a question she'd otherwise love to ask. ]