[She fucked this up. She thought she did before, but this was what fucking up was, actually. Ryder thought that if she was prepared, and guarded, and bitter, then it wouldn't hurt so much when he pulled away from the truth. Here she is, surprised to find that her heart being out there has gotten it pierced through. Fuck. She needs to leave.
...Except -- ]
What.
[Thats not how he's supposed to react. Even if he's a professional! Being good at his job wasn't enough to combat how deeply weird she was making this, and he should be at his weirdo limit. Like, even if he was used to people asking him to lick the bottom of their shoes or something -- that was within the realm of possibility! This? How could he be adapting to it when she's only making it worse?
After letting her gaze slide down from him, she cautiously reaches for her glass again to have something to do. Maybe she can swallow her nerves along with the wine -- at least some of them. Please?]
...Yeah. [Yes. For fuck's sake, yes, holy shit, YES! She wants that so badly that she feels it clawing through her innards, uncomfortable and desperate.] Ssorry, um.
[Her fingers are shaking. Stop that. Maybe she actually got rid of any intelligent thought instead of her nerves, because all of a sudden, her brain is sending a signal to her mouth that she did not approve of in the slightest. Wouldn't it be nice if she could repair her filter so that it was no longer saying anything that came to mind like someone carelessly picking a lottery ball from its randomizer cage, or full silence. No inbetween.]
no subject
...Except -- ]
What.
[Thats not how he's supposed to react. Even if he's a professional! Being good at his job wasn't enough to combat how deeply weird she was making this, and he should be at his weirdo limit. Like, even if he was used to people asking him to lick the bottom of their shoes or something -- that was within the realm of possibility! This? How could he be adapting to it when she's only making it worse?
After letting her gaze slide down from him, she cautiously reaches for her glass again to have something to do. Maybe she can swallow her nerves along with the wine -- at least some of them. Please?]
...Yeah. [Yes. For fuck's sake, yes, holy shit, YES! She wants that so badly that she feels it clawing through her innards, uncomfortable and desperate.] Ssorry, um.
[Her fingers are shaking. Stop that. Maybe she actually got rid of any intelligent thought instead of her nerves, because all of a sudden, her brain is sending a signal to her mouth that she did not approve of in the slightest. Wouldn't it be nice if she could repair her filter so that it was no longer saying anything that came to mind like someone carelessly picking a lottery ball from its randomizer cage, or full silence. No inbetween.]
Your n-nails. Nice. Is, um. S-signal?