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Nov 27, 2020 11:57 PM
sangrade soup and polar's meeting
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" - Oh.  Okay."

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" - Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you.  It's - I've had a - "  She takes a beat to compose herself.  "I suspect they're all closed anyway."

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"Yeah probably.

"Uh - do you want - me to go hide out in the loft, or get the other room ready for you, or - hang out with you; I don't want to be presumptuous - but . . ."

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"But what."

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He holds his hands out in a conciliatory gesture.  "Sorry, nothing.  Uh, I'll just go . . . do something else."

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"No, wait - I just meant . . . I really was asking."

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"Oh.  Uh, you just look like you could use it.  I guess.  Like, not a lot or anything, but . . ."

Saying this was a terrible terrible idea and he shouldn't have brought it up in the first place and now he has to live with the awkwardness and is probably going to get fired or something - or murdered - probably not murdered; the broad strokes of this situation sound super sketchy but he doesn't actually feel in danger at all, and that seems fairly based in reality, with how she's acting, and not like he's ignoring red flags.  Which is good but doesn't eliminate the awkward aspect - ugh, why is he like this -

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"Yes."

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" - Hm?"

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"I - think I could use some company.  If you felt like it.  - Only if you felt like it."

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"Hey, sure; I mean I wouldn't've offered if I didn't mean it."  (Yes he would have.  But it's a little funny to think that he wouldn't prefer hanging out over cleaning or whatever.)  "Do you want to - I haven't checked whether any of the movies here are good yet,  but if they are do you want to watch a movie?"

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"I don't think there are any.  But we could check anyway."

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They walk over to the cabinet where the DVDs are lined up.  "Yeah wow, absolutely none of these seem - like the right mood, even if they're good.  But maybe you know them better than I do."

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"No, I don't think so either."  She looks down at the floor and fails to not react to something on it.

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Possibly Ariel would want to politely pretend not to notice if he took a moment to think about it, but instead he looks to see what it is, fairly automatically.

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There are wet footprints where she padded over, and her patterned tights are visibly wet up to a level closer to her knee than her ankle.

 

"I walked here . . ." she attempts to justify.

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"You - walked?  Here?"

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"Yes."

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"Up a mountain?  In the snow??  At night???"

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"Yes."

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"From where?  - Never mind, do you want - I don't know, should I light the fire, or . . ."

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That is kind of a weird response but he's not going to interrupt it unless she takes a really long time to say something.

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"My apologies.  A fire.  Might be nice."

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"Sure!  I'll get on that."  Look at him, being so successfully casual in the face of like forty-five seconds of deeply awkward silence.  Probably it was less than forty-five seconds.  Sure did feel like it, though.

And he does, indeed, get on it.

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