Re: [Log: Gym-to-be, Marta and Holly]
"Hey, no one asked you to have rotting teeth. You can't blame me for that," he insisted, mid-bite and deadpan, as per usual. "There isn't even a dentist in town, is there? Better grab a bus. Or maybe whoever got the grub can take you." He quirked a brow. Well, two brows, really, because he wasn't particularly good at quirking one brow. But, whatever, yes, it was a question. He assumed someone had driven her or something, since this Italian food sure didn't exist in town. And, sure, plenty of people ordered Postmates and stuff from the Capital, but that required money, baby.
And, okay, okay, the housewife thing? Was totally a joke. She looked good, cleaned up and like shit wasn't dragging her down into the earth. Which was a change. She'd only said a few self-loathing things during this entire meal, which was some serious progress.
But, yeah, he wasn't getting it. She shook her head, and he tried to figure out what her brain and words meant. I mean, he got the words and what their combination implied, but he was trying to sort it out in this particular instance. But then Sunny went all freaked-out eyes, and blame Holly's own personal shit? Because he turned quickly and looked over his shoulder, like he expected some gaping-mawed monster to be standing there. But, yeah, okay, breathe. He was being fucking ridiculous. If that thing had been there? Sunny would've been running and peeing herself. But the constant buzzing? Meant Holly's sense of approaching sound wasn't so hot; he was easy to sneak up on.
And okay, okay, breathe. And he didn't feel anything weird or anything, but the air definitely got tense in this weird and imperceptible way. He didn't recognize it, and it wasn't a thing that could be pinpointed, but anyone around? Yeah, a little heightened stress. "Rumor?" he finally asked, slouching back in his chair like he hadn't just freaked out for nothing. "Wait. What are you talking about?"