[Indeed, he's glad for her lingering company, even if they both restrain themselves to temporary touches and quiet words from this point forward. Equally that she seems content enough to stay for the time, rather than abscond immediately now that the more rigorous part of the evening is done. Rip already doubts that she would allow herself to spend the night. The two times it's happened now, they'd both been more drunk than anything else. And each morning after, neither one of them had been entirely comfortable around the other, particularly Peggy, whom had tried to sneak away without Rip's noticing on each occasion.
It's an interesting set of weight to put upon the scales: the warm presence of another body in his bed throughout the night, or the avoidance of a third morning marred by awkwardness. In the end it's a matter left entirely in Peggy's hands—and one better, Rip thinks, left without the input of whatever opinion he might form should he give it too much thought. He's often in the habit of spoiling something by overthinking it—something Miranda would often accuse him of in the past.
So instead he tries to accept the good for what it is, and trust the notion of what comes next to someone else. Not the simplest thing for him, and thus it's good that Peggy offers distraction. Such a brassy stance even now, and Rip turns his head just enough to show off a single arched eyebrow.]
Sabotaged; that is quite the accusation to make. [An entirely accurate one, he knows, but far be it from him to simply admit that Peggy's right. Especially not as she continues on, clever and quick as always. Suddenly the ball he'd deemed fit to set aside has been sent spiraling into his court, and with the question of his desires, Rip can practically hear the lynchpin of the trap set into place.
And here he'd been, just having decided to avoid bad habits.]
I'm rather fond of the quiet, actually. [Of her, close enough to touch should he stretch a hand out just to the side. Stay or go, the choice remains hers—even if Rip decides for the moment, he's content to have her put off making it just a touch longer.]
no subject
It's an interesting set of weight to put upon the scales: the warm presence of another body in his bed throughout the night, or the avoidance of a third morning marred by awkwardness. In the end it's a matter left entirely in Peggy's hands—and one better, Rip thinks, left without the input of whatever opinion he might form should he give it too much thought. He's often in the habit of spoiling something by overthinking it—something Miranda would often accuse him of in the past.
So instead he tries to accept the good for what it is, and trust the notion of what comes next to someone else. Not the simplest thing for him, and thus it's good that Peggy offers distraction. Such a brassy stance even now, and Rip turns his head just enough to show off a single arched eyebrow.]
Sabotaged; that is quite the accusation to make. [An entirely accurate one, he knows, but far be it from him to simply admit that Peggy's right. Especially not as she continues on, clever and quick as always. Suddenly the ball he'd deemed fit to set aside has been sent spiraling into his court, and with the question of his desires, Rip can practically hear the lynchpin of the trap set into place.
And here he'd been, just having decided to avoid bad habits.]
I'm rather fond of the quiet, actually. [Of her, close enough to touch should he stretch a hand out just to the side. Stay or go, the choice remains hers—even if Rip decides for the moment, he's content to have her put off making it just a touch longer.]