Re: Livingroom: Marta / Seven
That expression on her face - whatever it looked like from the outside - did hold regret. But it was regret aimed at herself, and not for the fact that he was standing in front of her. Except in the way that she knew that seeing each other was a mess of a thing for both of them, and even though she'd told herself that she belonged at this party as much as anyone else, she still didn't mean to be digging a knife into anyone just by trying to live life.
Small talk was painful. It usually was a pain in the ass for her, and she never did very well with it, but trying to make small talk with Seven felt even worse. It wasn't even a rewind, because they'd never really made small talk in the past - they'd jumped right into ridiculously complex and serious things, and had never really climbed out again. It meant that she felt like she didn't know how to talk to him anymore. At least he managed better than she was, and she looked down at herself for a second, like she had to remind herself of what he might be seeing when he looked at her. And when she looked back up again, she couldn't lie to him. "You too." It didn't make it any easier to meet his gaze, though. She had no idea what he was thinking in that moment, couldn't read him at all, and she would just do her best to ignore how it stung to realize that.
And that could have been all. They didn't need to actually try to make small talk, not when she was still convinced that he'd rather not speak to her at all. There was plenty of party and plenty of house that she could slip away into - try to find Hannah and Audrey to give them and their house her best wishes. Or she could even go home - they knew she hadn't been planning to come, and wouldn't miss her if she left now. A shift of her weight between one foot and the next, and she didn't look down at her hands, but folded the napkin around that last bit of brownie and then balled it up in a loose fist.
"I'm gonna--" She broke off when he started talking at the same time, an awkward overlap of words that had her cutting herself off so that she could listen instead of saying anything. But talking about Tommy, about not wanting to talk to Seven, she shook her head and her words spilled again, even though she should've just stopped to hear what he was saying. "It wasn't about not wanting to talk to you, it's just..." Her teeth closed hard on her next breath, because oh. And no. Why? Even if he wanted to be the one to tell her, why did they have to do it now? At a party? It couldn't wait another half a day for him to let her know she wouldn't be welcome for a visit? Her throat closed up fast, and that bit of brownie and napkin was a little more abused in her tightening fist.
But she kept her eyes on him. she wasn't entirely certain what her expression was doing, but it felt like she needed to be as present as possible in the moment. As much as she was anticipating it would suck, it was going to be a memory she needed to keep. And it was probably the pre-conceived notion of what he was going to say that made her mind stutter on what actually came out. A frown, a blink...
And then her expression actually softened. Eyes a little wider, wondering, and the most tentative bit of growing hope. "Yeah?" Another blink, and then she shook her head hard. "I mean no. I'm... not. Not busy. I'm just..." She took a breath, and didn't care that it was obvious in the way she was trying to steady herself. "Really?"