[ Sally just barely manages to bite back the snark, Oh, just just the last time, then? That does seem like the most efficient way to ruin the moment-- and she might have let herself do it anyway, but she's actually not sure exactly how to survive being completely alone like this. In this place, and with these feelings. Without Gwen.
Is she using him to avoid that inadequacy? Is she costing herself the chance to sink or swim by her own means? Luckily for Sally's sanity Arthur keeps talking, this time with sense and just a little wonder that doesn't arouse her temper so. ]
There you go... being too reasonable to be ignored
[ It isn't exactly a do over, because this time Gwen isn't fucking here-- but Sally couldn't actually manage to feel surprised if Arthur left her alone once again. But he doesn't, almost vehemently if she dares observe.
Transactional something she'd assume by default of anyone but Arthur. Helping each other on the last round of it had been somewhat quid pro quo, but it hadn't always been like that. Arthur is the only person (other than Gwen) who never wanted her to be who he wanted.
But if that really is what he thinks, then why did he leave her in the first place? Did it all come down to terrible timing? Sally's got too many questions, a headache, and a powerful bottomless dread lingering just beneath the surface of her fragile mood that she'd really rather not drop into again. She knows she will, eventually. Just not right now.
For a moment she says nothing and her eyes flit to Arthur's lit smoke. She takes it from him, but only guiding his hand downwards so she can steal a long masochistic drag, like she needs the burn to center in her body and in the moment. When she releases his wrist and stands back, there's a faint red imprint on the filter of smoke. She exhales with all the grace of a fire-breather, despite the insanely long tolerance break. ]
You're right [ she concedes, and takes some small pride in doing so. If only This Arthur could tell Past Arthur as much. ] Let's see about getting my ride hitched up, shall we?
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Is she using him to avoid that inadequacy? Is she costing herself the chance to sink or swim by her own means? Luckily for Sally's sanity Arthur keeps talking, this time with sense and just a little wonder that doesn't arouse her temper so. ]
There you go... being too reasonable to be ignored
[ It isn't exactly a do over, because this time Gwen isn't fucking here-- but Sally couldn't actually manage to feel surprised if Arthur left her alone once again. But he doesn't, almost vehemently if she dares observe.
Transactional something she'd assume by default of anyone but Arthur. Helping each other on the last round of it had been somewhat quid pro quo, but it hadn't always been like that. Arthur is the only person (other than Gwen) who never wanted her to be who he wanted.
But if that really is what he thinks, then why did he leave her in the first place? Did it all come down to terrible timing? Sally's got too many questions, a headache, and a powerful bottomless dread lingering just beneath the surface of her fragile mood that she'd really rather not drop into again. She knows she will, eventually. Just not right now.
For a moment she says nothing and her eyes flit to Arthur's lit smoke. She takes it from him, but only guiding his hand downwards so she can steal a long masochistic drag, like she needs the burn to center in her body and in the moment. When she releases his wrist and stands back, there's a faint red imprint on the filter of smoke. She exhales with all the grace of a fire-breather, despite the insanely long tolerance break. ]
You're right [ she concedes, and takes some small pride in doing so. If only This Arthur could tell Past Arthur as much. ] Let's see about getting my ride hitched up, shall we?