Maeve stared at her phone, did he just agree with her? Or partially at least? Surely not. Wait. Did you admit that's your angle? And why did the thought of having her perceptions confirmed give her a hollow feeling in her chest instead of a triumphant one?
Her boot was pulled back on and she winced at it, even as she was glad for something physical to distract her from the unwanted dryness in her throat. Maybe she wouldn't stay in Summerview past their deal concluding. Nearly six years as a respectable time, it didn't feel cowardly to start up somewhere else. It would be awkward. To be in this little town when she wasn't interesting to somehow she had gotten so close to in such a short amount of time. Was it short, or was it catching up? There really wasn't a basis for comparison, was there? This is why she didn't linger in towns when a job was done, why she didn't come back for a long while even with a different face.
No, I think I'm fine. Gonna be annoying to finish the walk home though. There he was, being helpful again. Confusing.
She stood carefully, glad it at least wasn't the same ankle again. Would be lust her luck to keep hurting the same one wouldn't it. All the same, she was glad it wasn't too much further. The gravel part was going to make it unpleasant, but that was fine. Like her? She blinked at the phone. Sure. I'm very likeable. Would be a bad waitress if I wasn't. That was the safest answer to that. Made easier by the fact that he called her Maeve and not Briar.
There were no streetlights on her road, and it was almost eerie, the glow of her phone as she walked. And again, she found herself trying to find an answer not as honest as the ones that immediately came to mind - and since when were her gut responses truths, instead of lies? It seemed she kept exposing the ugly parts of her personality, while he didn't do the same. It felt dreadfully uneven. His past may have been ugly, or at least the beginnings, but sometimes it seemed like it hadn't seeped into him the same way her's had. And what incentive would I have given?
Unbidden and very much unwanted, was the memory of cold sheets. How difficult it was to not say his name. Heat, gravity, and the smell of violents so strong and real she thought she could have tasted it, the feel of her control over her own gift nearly slipping. There was once, I thought I didn't need to. You didn't give me the chance. The one time you really conned me, figures. Was that true? Shit. It really was. As much as she had thought about it being a one show only, no encores, kind of night. She had never put it into words until now, and the ill-timed realization tasted bitter in her mouth.
Now there was an entirely different feeling in her throat, and fuck. This was not what she wanted. A deep breath that she held while she boxed that back up. Hard. It was old news. She had processed it already. It was going to be worse when it came out. Because he was going to Laugh. But it's fine. She'd been through worse. She'd been tortured for fucksake.