Badasses aren't endlessly graceful, but her heart fills, warmth spreading in her chest, when she hears Quentin laugh over the silliness. She settles in to hear what's gotta be a mighty fine tale, one leg crossing over the other, back straight, eyes drawn to him alone.
She swirls the liquid in her glass, eyes narrowing as he she becomes privy to the kinds of games the city thinks up. Her smile falters, chest tightening as she tries to hold any negative emotion at bay, expression darkening and jaw tensing: yeah, home is quite a bag of shit for her, too.
Bouncing back, corners of her mouth pursing up in a closed smile, enamored when he shifts back to less wholly depressing details. Neither of them ever gave her any impression they were into one another beyond flirting, past Eliot looking at Quentin like he could eat him up (but what pretty boy does Eliot not turn into some degree of goo over?) Margo hangs onto every word. A blink, for that long length of time that too much had hung like a rain cloud over the two of them.
Her head tilts. Permanent contract. Huh. Interesting.
She breathes in, then sighs aloud, head shaking several times as she takes a slow drink before reaching over to offer it to him. The revelations sound heavy, as they'd occurred, even if they ended up happily. So, she's happy to share her drink, if he wants to cut any edge away.
"Well fuck me sideways, Q." Her eyes dazzle, smile beaming. "Then, you're happy here. Both of you. Really happy." She lets the observations sit between them, hoping she's correct, that they can settle completely. "Leave it to a place that, from what I've gathered, has the potential for an eternal orgy to really make two broody boys wanna settle down."
She wants to press for more, to ask how and when, where and how, they'd ever not gotten their shit together. There's a chasm of info she's not aware of. Quentin is so seamless in how he describes it though, and she makes a mental note to round back to it eventually, maybe with Eliot. If she's going to pry, she knows she can say anything to him.
no subject
She swirls the liquid in her glass, eyes narrowing as he she becomes privy to the kinds of games the city thinks up. Her smile falters, chest tightening as she tries to hold any negative emotion at bay, expression darkening and jaw tensing: yeah, home is quite a bag of shit for her, too.
Bouncing back, corners of her mouth pursing up in a closed smile, enamored when he shifts back to less wholly depressing details. Neither of them ever gave her any impression they were into one another beyond flirting, past Eliot looking at Quentin like he could eat him up (but what pretty boy does Eliot not turn into some degree of goo over?) Margo hangs onto every word. A blink, for that long length of time that too much had hung like a rain cloud over the two of them.
Her head tilts. Permanent contract. Huh. Interesting.
She breathes in, then sighs aloud, head shaking several times as she takes a slow drink before reaching over to offer it to him. The revelations sound heavy, as they'd occurred, even if they ended up happily. So, she's happy to share her drink, if he wants to cut any edge away.
"Well fuck me sideways, Q." Her eyes dazzle, smile beaming. "Then, you're happy here. Both of you. Really happy." She lets the observations sit between them, hoping she's correct, that they can settle completely. "Leave it to a place that, from what I've gathered, has the potential for an eternal orgy to really make two broody boys wanna settle down."
She wants to press for more, to ask how and when, where and how, they'd ever not gotten their shit together. There's a chasm of info she's not aware of. Quentin is so seamless in how he describes it though, and she makes a mental note to round back to it eventually, maybe with Eliot. If she's going to pry, she knows she can say anything to him.