twiststheblade | (no subject)

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mary Anne takes in the additions and makes a mental note to see about getting herself some furniture.

"Any specific place I should put the booze, or just in arms reach?" she asks, gesturing with the tequila bottle.

It makes Miho's life a great deal more comfortable, and that of any guests she has in her room.

"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."

She nods.

"Just point me towards the glasses, and I'll be fine."

"Kitchenette, above the sink. There should be a few on the drainer as well. Ice in the ice-box as well," tossed over her shoulder as she heads into the bathroom. "Five minutes."

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.

By which point Mary Anne is sitting on the soft, sipping from a glass of tequila; the liquor bottles are lined up neatly on the coffee table.

"Cute robe."

"Well, it's comfortable," she says, shrugging. The robe slips slightly off her shoulder, and she twitches it back up. It's slippery, too.

"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."

"Looks like it."

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."

They're actually entirely innocent, or as innocent as things ever get with Miho. More an indication that she's comfortable around Mary Anne. She looks at her glass for a moment, then throws back the contents, grimacing slightly, before refilling.

She arches an eyebrow.

"Easy, sweet. I'm not gonna beat you to the bourbon."

"You're not drinking bourbon," she points out. "And I'm not going to keep drinking that fast. I was just getting a start."

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."

"Fair enough."

She settles back against the couch, sipping idly at her drink.

"Sounds good to me."

The remote is replaced, the glass picked up again. Miho takes another sip, and leans her head against the beanbag.

"What made you do it?" She asks, suddenly.

She doesn't need to ask what.

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."

Miho nods. She can understand that. After all, that's what she does, really. All she was, for a long time. She only just started living for herself - and is still guilty that she isn't at home, even though she knows that no time is passing here.

"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.

"I think so."

Heartbeat.

"I hope so."

There is, after all, no going back.

No, there isn't, is there? Would she like a refill of that tequila?

"I'm sure the decision wasn't made lightly."

decisions? Suck.

As a matter of fact, she would.

"Been sitting on it since May," she admits.

They suck outloud.

Miho snags the bottle, and refills Mary Anne's glass.

"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.

"It felt right, when I did it. Felt like it fit."

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.

Miho sighs.

"Yeah."

Never can know for sure. And dammit, what's she supposed to do?

Mary Anne doesn't have any answers. Just a question.

"You want a refill?"

Yeah. Miho isn't even sure that she actually has questions. Just that there's something that needs fixing.

"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.

"Here you go."

She tops off Miho's glass, then returns to her own drink, letting booze and jazz blend together in her brain.

Miho eyes the glass, and takes a sip. Then she pulls the towel off her hair, twists sideways on the beanbag, and slips down so she can rest her head in mary Anne's lap. Her hair is mostly dry.

"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.

Her fingers slide into Miho's hair, combing out faintly damp strands.

"If I knew the answer, lovely, I'd tell you."