Re: Log: Harry's House, Marta/Harry
Marta laughed softly, staying in the moment and trying not to get swept back by the memory of other people who'd complained (even good-naturedly) about the temperature of her hands. "You get a discount for riding on the roof. Probably not something you have to worry about, but some of us have a budget to stick to." She was smiling as she said it, trying for light - trying for a tease. It shifted into a stare, a few blinks, when her hands were raised up to receive warm breath and careful chafing to bring blood back to her fingers. If she weren't already committed to moving away, she would have stayed and likely leaned in closer to him.
It was easier (if a little colder) when she stepped away. "Not really a florals kinda girl," she agreed, because she wasn't going to tell him (at the moment) that she did have a few things that fell into a girlier sort of category. They weren't usually in her everyday wardrobe, though.
His eyebrow waggle made her laugh, quiet and a little rusty, in an unused sort of way. He mentioned not remembering, and it got cataloged and shoved into a box in her mind, sitting there along with the things that Felicity had told her. "As long as it's not something too weird, I'm pretty easy to please as far as food goes." She didn't bring up the months of non-perishable meals brought to life by hot water, but they were there behind the words and behind her half-fake smile.
Marta's steps slowed just a bit (the strike of heels on hardwood lagging) at the windows, looking outside into the expanse of winter-paused landscaping. She tried to imagine what it would all look like when the weather turned warm again - water and green - and she gave a little sigh that she wasn't able to see it at the moment. It seemed like it would be pretty, even if it was over the top. "You need something nicer to look at than that..." It came out soft, like she hadn't quite meant to say it, and she shook her head to try to shake off the moment, continuing to follow Harry to the dining room.
It was... ridiculous. That was the only word that her mind could come up with. The linen, the candelabras. The sheer impersonal size of things. The laugh that escaped her throat was short with disbelief and maybe a little discomfort. "Shit, Harry. You know I'm not fancy. I wasn't actually expecting anything big." But the way he said that he didn't know where else to chill - that made her a little sad, and she shook her head. "Anywhere. Somewhere soft. A couch or pillows or..." she hesitated at saying 'bed', and wasn't even sure why. "Fuck, we could even sit under there like kids and pretend it's a fucking fort. We can go anywhere." Marta would have usually had the same sort of fears about touching and ruining things, but it was Harry's house, and even he looked uncomfortable. She could be the asshole that messed shit up, if it got him looser in his skin.