Who: Achilles and Pop What: Achilles invites Pop over even after their argument. When: Tuesday, August 16th [Backdated] Where: Achilles' apartment Warning: TBD
He wasn't angry at Pippa for her forward nature, it was in fact what made them a lot alike. She had a spirit in her that matched his own, and was perhaps what had kept them from falling into themselves the last few weeks. Achilles was still adamant about his decision, though he knew deep down he just wasn't able to do what he had then. He wasn't mentally or physically able no matter how strong he was. His weakness would always be his flare, his pride and then his heel. After the last battle wound in Vietnam, it had left him immobile for years, rehabilitating himself to have the use of it once again.
It wasn't the struggle that frustrated him, it was the fact that he was continuously slapped in the face with his weakness. As if Paris was still up there with his sharp shooting arrow waiting to strike. He'd never place blame to his mother for her attempts to keep himself, but he would long to be something more than what this industry felt he was worth. It was never about them, it was about himself. In his restlessness while he may not have taken on another foolish act or let Hybris back into his bed, he'd taken on yet another prideful leap. This time it was playing to the only tune he felt he knew and knew well. War.
Once you killed a man it did something to a soldier's psyche. It wasn't as simple as putting down the weapon and carrying on in everyday life. He'd been out of war for only forty years, not hardly enough time to really feel like a man without a passion for his own blood-lust. Pippa couldn't understand that, and yet, he still let her go on a tirade without getting hostile with her over it.
Part of him cared to know why it mattered so much to her. They'd hit some kind of like in this relationship, Achilles was attracted to her, and her opinion did matter. It was more a matter if was it enough.
Pop hadn't particularly wanted to go see Achilles after their conversation on the phone. The only reason she even left her apartment and got into the taxi was because she was driven by the severe need to slap him in the face.
She hadn't been dressed to go out and she saw no reason to change her clothes. It wasn't as if she actually wore pajamas of any type, so her casualclothing was never very comfortable or easy. She had, however, made sure to put on makeup and fix her hair before she stalked out of her place.
By the time she made it to his building, her anger had faded somewhat. She took the steps, not the elevator, up to his floor, and having to focus on not falling flat on her face in the stairwell.
She texted him as she was walking down the hall to let him know she was there and that the door had better be unlocked for her.
The door was unlocked as she approached, and had been long before that. She'd made the attempt to get there which meant while she may still be angry, she had some feeling on the matter to bother.
He stood near the doorway expectant as if he knew she was ready to let lose whatever she hadn't finished saying on the phone earlier. She wasn't going to change his mind. Not on anyone's terms but his own. It was his selfish pride.
She pushed the door open with more force than she should have, and it banged loudly against the wall behind it. She didn't even flinch.
"Well?" She crossed her arms against her chest and looked to him expectantly.
Achilles stood waiting for more than her expectant look and question. He knew what she was fishing for, but he'd already given her his answers. He turned from her and setting some tea on the stove.
"Not even a greeting first?" She was angry, he knew. "What are you expecting me to say?"
"No," she said bluntly, her normally flippant attitude gone. She followed him into the kitchen. "I'm expecting you to tell me why I'm here."
"Tell me why your reason for coming then I'll be gracious and give you an answer." If she was going to throw him with attitude, he had as much to counter with. They'd been friends a long time, things were changing.
She laughed, short and loud. "Oh, I don't think so. I'm not playing this game with you."
She lifted up one hand, her finger in the air, and she looked like she was going to make a point but decided against it. "No. You can forget it."
Achilles gave her a turned brow, not shaking himself from his strong stance. She was insufferable, abrasive, every bit the vamp she dolled herself up to be. They were incredibly alike because of this very reason.
"You can't change my mind," he said finally letting the silence fill the air. She was stubborn. He wanted to hear her reaction.
"Congratulations, you're stubborn." She waved her hand dramatically. "Welcome to the club. Did you think I came here to change your mind?"
She tried to figure out his angle, but was unable to at this point. Their previous conversation had become so convoluted, she wasn't even sure what they were discussing anymore. "You tell me why you asked me to come over. Be blunt, obviously I can handle it."
Achilles sighed heavily, a grunt of disapproval at her own stubbornness. He stood firm, though his expression softened only slightly. Their time together the last few weeks had pressed new buttons.
"You showed nonetheless did you not?" That was his purpose, to see whether or not she made the appearance. "It mattered to me. I wanted you here, that is why."