I was more or less commenting on your admirable ability to run away, though I suppose we have it in common. I'll be more blunt with my quips in the future. ( after a brief, calming pause. ) Sydney. It means wide meadow.
( even getting mad feels sickly, upsetting, and peter wants no part of the proceedings. is it so difficult to go back to wrex glass, the dark matters operative, who looked at juno like he wanted to take a bite and save the rest for dinner? well yes, peter suppose it would be. there was a time when things were decidedly less between them -- less complicated and less emotional, less disastrous, less difficult, but that time is long since passed. on another day he would've teased juno, pushed his hair behind his ear and his lips to the column of his throat, but for now they're
acquaintances. strangers, practically. the pain of conversation with someone who used to love you. someone who decided your best just wasn't good enough.
it burns the pit of his stomach, juno's words. saying so little and so much at the same time -- laced with implications he's not sure juno even meant to be there, and yet here is peter nureyev, lingering on every glance, every word. stuffing himself full of juno steel, satiating himself for the long road ahead of him whenever he gets off this planet and away from juno's grasp forever.
wringing out his hands, peter sets his bags down on the ground and takes the few steps over to the bench, heels hitting sharply on the wooden floorboard. he takes a seat, tucking one leg behind the other. the peacock acts as their buffer. )
The end of Mars as we know it is no reason not to keep up appearances. The selection left a bit to be desired, but there were a few diamonds in the rough, as they say. ( raising his eyebrows, ) If you wish to discuss clothes and politics, why don't we start with you, my dear, dear detective? Soaking wet in front of a clothing shop, where all articles are free? I must say, it does bore my thieving fingers, but it is practical for bulk shopping. Let's put you in something. What do you say?
2bad.
( even getting mad feels sickly, upsetting, and peter wants no part of the proceedings. is it so difficult to go back to wrex glass, the dark matters operative, who looked at juno like he wanted to take a bite and save the rest for dinner? well yes, peter suppose it would be. there was a time when things were decidedly less between them -- less complicated and less emotional, less disastrous, less difficult, but that time is long since passed. on another day he would've teased juno, pushed his hair behind his ear and his lips to the column of his throat, but for now they're
acquaintances. strangers, practically. the pain of conversation with someone who used to love you. someone who decided your best just wasn't good enough.
it burns the pit of his stomach, juno's words. saying so little and so much at the same time -- laced with implications he's not sure juno even meant to be there, and yet here is peter nureyev, lingering on every glance, every word. stuffing himself full of juno steel, satiating himself for the long road ahead of him whenever he gets off this planet and away from juno's grasp forever.
wringing out his hands, peter sets his bags down on the ground and takes the few steps over to the bench, heels hitting sharply on the wooden floorboard. he takes a seat, tucking one leg behind the other. the peacock acts as their buffer. )
The end of Mars as we know it is no reason not to keep up appearances. The selection left a bit to be desired, but there were a few diamonds in the rough, as they say. ( raising his eyebrows, ) If you wish to discuss clothes and politics, why don't we start with you, my dear, dear detective? Soaking wet in front of a clothing shop, where all articles are free? I must say, it does bore my thieving fingers, but it is practical for bulk shopping. Let's put you in something. What do you say?