[ Not if someone else does it for you, she desperately wants to counter, but swallows the reply down. As petulant as Lottie wants to be, he's right. So she takes his grumbling, his weary and faintly exhausted quip like a champ. Well.. For her standards, anyway β which means that she only gnaws at her lip as he gathers himself, goes through a whole spectrum of emotions that feels delayed, all considering she expected this after he crawled his way onto the surface and into the living.
Her nails take turns pressing half crescent moons into her palm, gradually feeling antsy the longer it takes Marc to say something, anything. Should she just go? Leave him? Lottie knows nothing about him other than the odd factoid he shared about himself, and the fact he's.. Well, short. Not exactly a talker. There's his breath in, then out, as she thinks about how he seems like he can handle himself.
Her brain then worryingly counters: the man is in a suit for crying out loud! How much handling can he do??
Lottie's reaction is, predictably delayed, too distracted with her own thoughts to give him her full attention immediately. She tugs at a stray piece of string fraying at the edge of her single, gloved, hand, surprised. No, maybe not surprised, but he makes her feel.. Good? It doesn't particularly matter how brusque he is, she takes his 'thank you' exactly how he wanted it to come out β because she, of all people, can at least understand the difficulty of speaking and saying things.
(She may not know Marc (tentatively: Egyptiandude? Or Godguy?) very well, but she gets that kind of vibe from him.) ]
Um, yeah!! You're welcome. No problem at all, really..
[ She clears her throat, tone somewhere in the ballpark of 'purposely nonchalant' and 'bashful'. ]
Phones don't exist here so, if you wanna reach me, hit me up I guess? I can always find you. [ A stark pause. ] That sounds weird β I just mean there's ways for me to not get into your brain but still.. Anyway, I'll see you around?
no subject
Her nails take turns pressing half crescent moons into her palm, gradually feeling antsy the longer it takes Marc to say something, anything. Should she just go? Leave him? Lottie knows nothing about him other than the odd factoid he shared about himself, and the fact he's.. Well, short. Not exactly a talker. There's his breath in, then out, as she thinks about how he seems like he can handle himself.
Her brain then worryingly counters: the man is in a suit for crying out loud! How much handling can he do??
Lottie's reaction is, predictably delayed, too distracted with her own thoughts to give him her full attention immediately. She tugs at a stray piece of string fraying at the edge of her single, gloved, hand, surprised. No, maybe not surprised, but he makes her feel.. Good? It doesn't particularly matter how brusque he is, she takes his 'thank you' exactly how he wanted it to come out β because she, of all people, can at least understand the difficulty of speaking and saying things.
(She may not know Marc (tentatively: Egyptiandude? Or Godguy?) very well, but she gets that kind of vibe from him.) ]
Um, yeah!! You're welcome. No problem at all, really..
[ She clears her throat, tone somewhere in the ballpark of 'purposely nonchalant' and 'bashful'. ]
Phones don't exist here so, if you wanna reach me, hit me up I guess? I can always find you. [ A stark pause. ] That sounds weird β I just mean there's ways for me to not get into your brain but still.. Anyway, I'll see you around?