twiststheblade (
twiststheblade) wrote2006-10-03 03:19 am
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Miho's room is, indeed, much more personal than the last time Mary Anne saw it. It's still stark and white - white walls, white sheets and comforter on the low futon - but now there's also a deep pile rug (also white, of course), on the blonde floorboards, and an enormous and extremely comfortable (white) leather bean bag sofa with a coffee table in front of it.
A book-case at one end of the bean bag has an eclectic collection of books, graphic novels and movies, and there's a small (digital) sound system next to the television. A few half-finished projects are lying on a neat desk. In other words, she looks like she's moved in, not as if she expects to leave at any moment.
A book-case at one end of the bean bag has an eclectic collection of books, graphic novels and movies, and there's a small (digital) sound system next to the television. A few half-finished projects are lying on a neat desk. In other words, she looks like she's moved in, not as if she expects to leave at any moment.
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"Any specific place I should put the booze, or just in arms reach?" she asks, gesturing with the tequila bottle.
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"Coffee table is fine," she says.
"Do you want to grab a drink or stick the kettle on or something while I shower? I won't be more than a few minutes."
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"Just point me towards the glasses, and I'll be fine."
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In fact, she's slightly less than five minutes, and when she comes back out, she's wearing a deep crimson satin robe that comes down to her ankles, and her hair is tied up in a towel.
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"Cute robe."
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"I see you found the bourbon."
Sitting, she snags a glass for herself, and pours a generous amount into it. She takes a sip, before curling her legs under her - revealing a generous amount of smooth leg in the process, it should be pointed out - and leaning back.
"Thank you."
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The glimpses of skin are given all due attention, but she's attempting to be polite, so it's look but don't touch. For now.
"You're welcome."
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"Easy, sweet. I'm not gonna beat you to the bourbon."
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And to give the lie to her claim, she swallows half of the contents of her glass. She does, however, then put the glass down on the table, and catch up the remote for the hi-fi. She eyes it for a moment, then selects a smoky jazz playlist.
"Hope you like jazz."
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She settles back against the couch, sipping idly at her drink.
"Sounds good to me."
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"What made you do it?" She asks, suddenly.
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Still, she's silent for a moment, just watching the ice in her glass before answering.
"I wanted to protect the people I love--to help them, to fight for them...to do all of that better for them."
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"Is it worth it?"
Again. No need to say what she means. Mary Anne knows. She might have gained a lot, but she's lost a lot as well.
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Heartbeat.
"I hope so."
There is, after all, no going back.
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"I'm sure the decision wasn't made lightly."
decisions? Suck.
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"Been sitting on it since May," she admits.
They suck outloud.
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"That's a lot of thought."
She sighs, and looks away.
"How did you know it was the right decision?" And how do i know.
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A mouthful of tequila.
"But I guess I can't know for sure."
Not without looking down paths she didn't take, and that's more than she's willing to do just now.
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"Yeah."
Never can know for sure. And dammit, what's she supposed to do?
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"You want a refill?"
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"Yes, please."
With bourbon. Which is having the desired effect. She's beginning to feel a little warm - after all, there isn't a great deal of her.
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She tops off Miho's glass, then returns to her own drink, letting booze and jazz blend together in her brain.
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"Why is life so fucking hard?"
It's mostly a rhetorical question, and seems to be addressed more to her glass than to her company.
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"If I knew the answer, lovely, I'd tell you."
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