Envy Adams (
whenshewasnice) wrote2017-12-05 11:16 pm
Entry tags:
Envy's Duplex, The Hegemony Compound, Ribeirao Preto, Tuesday Evening
Envy's bedroom looked like her closet had exploded. There were clothes everywhere: draped over anything possible, hanging on hangers, laid out on her bed. The only piece of furniture not currently covered in layers of fabric was her vanity table. And that had a bunch of Polaroids on it. All of Envy in different outfits.
Even right now, she was posing for another one in a sleek black-and-white dress in front of her full-length mirror. She snapped a photo and took it out before setting the camera aside for the time being. As she waited for the photo to develop, she kept looking at herself in the mirror, still judging the outfit. She felt like she was on to something, here. Getting closer, but not quite there yet.
But, she had an idea about what direction to take it.
So, she picked up her phone and texted Peter, the latest Polaroid still in her other hand.
Bring me one of your white button down shirts. I need to try something.
[ooc: NFB but open.]
Even right now, she was posing for another one in a sleek black-and-white dress in front of her full-length mirror. She snapped a photo and took it out before setting the camera aside for the time being. As she waited for the photo to develop, she kept looking at herself in the mirror, still judging the outfit. She felt like she was on to something, here. Getting closer, but not quite there yet.
But, she had an idea about what direction to take it.
So, she picked up her phone and texted Peter, the latest Polaroid still in her other hand.
Bring me one of your white button down shirts. I need to try something.
[ooc: NFB but open.]

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"It was never meant to be anything more."
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"So will you be my date?" he said. "My palms are getting sweaty."
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Your joking was unrealistic, Peter.
Anyway. Her smile was crooked, lopsided - a little Natalie. "Yes."
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But he looked pleased.
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Notice how it didn't stop her taking his hand.
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He squeezed her hand.
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Her track record was a mess, and he was one of the very few people to whom she'd even allude to that.
She gave his hand a squeeze back. And then a tug, towards the couch. "Come on, I'm getting tired of standing around. I could be sitting on your lap instead."
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Or something.
She kissed him. She had something to say, but, his lips were just sort of there and it was as good a start as any.
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Partly because he was physically unable to, kissing her back with now somewhat practiced skill, his hands lingering over the small of her back.
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But eventually she pulled back - though not by much. Her forehead ended up against his. She exhaled a soft sigh. "Have you noticed there's kind of a wall?"
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"I guess I built it," she said. "When I left."
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She paused, then added, "You in particular."
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"I'm more worried about getting stabbed from the front, anyway."
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He reached up to cup her cheek. "I'd like us to talk more, if it's all the same. I just didn't know if you were open to that."
And he was decent at playing the mystery-metaphor-mirror game, himself.
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She missed that.
She tilted her face against his hand. "How I miss your ranting, do you miss my all-time lows?" She wasn't above quoting herself. Not when it was significant. Her voice was a soft murmur. "I'd like that."
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Now they just needed to relearn each other's dancing steps.
"I miss them," Peter said, just as softly.
And kissed her. Again.
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