(Fuck, no!!! The laugh that leaves her is frustratingly honest, soulful, and she has to conceal it in the crook of his neck, her hand doing a weak punch to his chest because fuck you, Quire, stop humanizing her. She's got at least some reputation she wants to uphold, and you're ruining it.)
Not even in the same vicinity of concept!
(Well, she feels the resistance, how could she not? Her hand pulls back almost immediately. She knows she can't blame him for it — for all their differences, they're still remarkably alike, not to mention identical appearance-wise. She's gotta block him for a second there for the world's biggest mental sigh. She's not... Phoebe, for fuck's sake, and thank her stupid clone anatomy for nanotech bullshit that allows her to think through this fast enough not to make a dent on anything. They're still going to take a bit to completely leave this out the door, aren't they? That's why they're doing this, after all. Neither are going to be okay... Just like that, right? She isn't. She can't blame him if he isn't, either.
A nanosecond later, and the thought is far from her mind, reopened now that she regrounded, guess what, seems like being (or attempting to be) a better person means she thinks twice before pointing fingers that she can point at herself, too.
She was about to reply and say something, however the thought completely ran out of her mind before she even formed it with the overstimulation he's bringing her, which only brings her closer to him to the point they glue as she tries to focus.
... This motherfucker, she senses the block right as she was redirecting it. She's going to strong-arm him, knowing fully she will lose, but she will go down swinging. If he's going to fuck with her sense of touch and block her from fucking with his, then she just has to get creative and find a whole other sense to play with. Lights out — a temporary block of his vision, and an increase to all the other senses he didn't block. Her heartbeat, quick and impatient banging in her chest, her breath that comes with the sweetest gasps from the stimulation, the perfume she found in Etraya that smells of daisies, the softness of the sheets, the hormones in his veins...
She knows he won't let it slide, but alas. At least, she's going swinging.)
no subject
Not even in the same vicinity of concept!
(Well, she feels the resistance, how could she not? Her hand pulls back almost immediately. She knows she can't blame him for it — for all their differences, they're still remarkably alike, not to mention identical appearance-wise. She's gotta block him for a second there for the world's biggest mental sigh. She's not... Phoebe, for fuck's sake, and thank her stupid clone anatomy for nanotech bullshit that allows her to think through this fast enough not to make a dent on anything. They're still going to take a bit to completely leave this out the door, aren't they? That's why they're doing this, after all. Neither are going to be okay... Just like that, right? She isn't. She can't blame him if he isn't, either.
A nanosecond later, and the thought is far from her mind, reopened now that she regrounded, guess what, seems like being (or attempting to be) a better person means she thinks twice before pointing fingers that she can point at herself, too.
She was about to reply and say something, however the thought completely ran out of her mind before she even formed it with the overstimulation he's bringing her, which only brings her closer to him to the point they glue as she tries to focus.
... This motherfucker, she senses the block right as she was redirecting it. She's going to strong-arm him, knowing fully she will lose, but she will go down swinging. If he's going to fuck with her sense of touch and block her from fucking with his, then she just has to get creative and find a whole other sense to play with. Lights out — a temporary block of his vision, and an increase to all the other senses he didn't block. Her heartbeat, quick and impatient banging in her chest, her breath that comes with the sweetest gasps from the stimulation, the perfume she found in Etraya that smells of daisies, the softness of the sheets, the hormones in his veins...
She knows he won't let it slide, but alas. At least, she's going swinging.)