[ is it foolishness or wisdom? pretending not to sense whatever it is that'd been steadily brewing between them, like the slow churning of ocean waves before the first break of a storm. in the haze of all that alcohol, marta can't be too sure anymore; where her mind remains sharp, her heart... it's so much louder now, but try as she might she can't decipher any of its words.
then i'll leave, he says, and it's only then she realizes how desperately she did not want him to. she's not sure when it happened, the switch of his presence being convenient to something far more necessary, but still an indulgence all it's own. but she knows the fault is her own. she'd grown comfortable, but more than that she'd grown careless, where now his absence is as obvious as his presence, taking up so much space in the quiet little corner of the world she keeps to herself.
I'll leave if you tell me you don't want me to stay. like she could be ever let herself be so honest. (just because she can't lie doesn't mean she always says her truth.) like she could let herself be so selfish again.
between them, her hand shifts and she looks down to follow the movement of her finger tracing the same pattern sandy had. she ignores the way it brings his mouth into her line of sight. ]
It wouldn't be fair for me to ask that of you.
[ not an answer, but an answer all on its own. no less her truth, for how careful she is to word it. and if her finger catches and hooks around a button, slipping between the fold of his shirt? well, that's just sloppy of her isn't it?
behind kovacs, some movement. the man from earlier, his eyes on her again, but the twist of his mouth is intrigued.
"This man bothering you, darlin'?"
marta's answering before her mind can process the sugar in the man's voice, the way his eyes trace the newly bared skin of her legs from how high her skirt's gotten drawn up. ]
no subject
then i'll leave, he says, and it's only then she realizes how desperately she did not want him to. she's not sure when it happened, the switch of his presence being convenient to something far more necessary, but still an indulgence all it's own. but she knows the fault is her own. she'd grown comfortable, but more than that she'd grown careless, where now his absence is as obvious as his presence, taking up so much space in the quiet little corner of the world she keeps to herself.
I'll leave if you tell me you don't want me to stay. like she could be ever let herself be so honest. (just because she can't lie doesn't mean she always says her truth.) like she could let herself be so selfish again.
no sΓ© si me da mΓ‘s miedo necesitarte o desearte. every breath they share, she thinks she's coming closer to the truth. (he takes up more space, and she lets him.)
between them, her hand shifts and she looks down to follow the movement of her finger tracing the same pattern sandy had. she ignores the way it brings his mouth into her line of sight. ]
It wouldn't be fair for me to ask that of you.
[ not an answer, but an answer all on its own. no less her truth, for how careful she is to word it. and if her finger catches and hooks around a button, slipping between the fold of his shirt? well, that's just sloppy of her isn't it?
behind kovacs, some movement. the man from earlier, his eyes on her again, but the twist of his mouth is intrigued.
"This man bothering you, darlin'?"
marta's answering before her mind can process the sugar in the man's voice, the way his eyes trace the newly bared skin of her legs from how high her skirt's gotten drawn up. ]
It's no problem, seΓ±or. He's my babysitter.