Re: coffee: sam & neil
"Don't you get tired of that shit?" she asked of pretending, because she wasn't sure she could do it. Sure, moderating her language around people was nearly pretense, but it wasn't the same thing, yeah? She didn't talk to people she didn't want to talk to, and luckily the goal of the gallery was to display, not sell. It was more of a museum, and she was just there to offer information. No commission, no need to butter any one up to get them to pull out a wallet or something. And the people who kept talking to her, they genuinely really wanted to know about the paintings, and that was cool; she could talk about art all fucking day. But he claimed not to be embarrassed about her behavior in public, and she thought that was just fucking bullshit. To prove it, she shoved her cup away, and she hopped up on her chair, dress and her heels long since fucking slipped off beneath the bistro table. It drew attention, yeah? The blonde girl in pink balancing on a chair, and then she sat herself on the table and grinned down at him, gapped teeth and her tongue pressed back against them as she smiled. "Embarrassed, or disapproving?" she asked, all eyes on them, and she so didn't give a fuck. "And you're not fine. You already told me you were tired. No backpedaling. You don't need to be ok with me, yeah?" Despite her youthful perch on the table, her gaze was serious.
She crossed her legs at the knees, and she kept going with the conversation, and no one asked her to move; there wasn't a rule about women sitting on tables, yeah? But his question about the medicines was sobering, and she shrugged. "IDK. No, I don't think so. They haven't stopped. They have to go three months to be considered well controlled. Whatever. I try not to think about it. I take my pills, and I don't let it control me the way the doctors think I should. I only wear the bracelet at work because I have to. I don't wear the thing anywhere else." Which was probably stupid, but being intelligent wasn't really her thing.
He was trying to avoid the topic with that teasing about the therapists, yeah? She let him, for a moment. "I have my NA therapist, and my normal therapist, and the therapist my neuro works with who's supposed to make sick people feel like life isn't a fucking waste." And that offering of information, it was supposed to make him feel less tense, but he was about to press that pencil clear through the fucking paper. "Neil, baby, sometimes making a woman feel hella wanted goes a long way, yeah? It's not particularly enlightened, but if you let her know you want her, like really let her know, other stuff seems like it's not so big a deal." But what he focused on, that made her tip her head, blonde sliding over the pink at her shoulder. She nudged his knee with her toes. "You mean me and Lou?" she asked of fitting in, being accepted. "We could all, IDK, go somewhere together. Maybe it'll make her feel less freaked? Not Lou. I could bring Cris, yeah?" She didn't like Meredith much, and maybe that showed on her expressive features, but she was willing to lie through her fucking teeth if it made shit better for him. Ok, she sucked at lying, but she could try. She'd try being Meredith's best fucking friend if it helped.