It's a bit odd, and not quite what you asked for, but it's what came out... *G* -2x2
He's lying to her.
She sees it in the way his eyes slide away from hers, the way he scratches his nose, the way he swallows, mouth filling with nervous saliva. All the signs fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.
He doesn't want to be here.
She wonders if it's the company or the environment that has him ill at ease. She hopes it's the latter, but she isn't sure yet.
It's always like this now, between them. Little white lies to keep the peace. He's so careful it drives her mad. She wants to push him, force an argument, force him to react. She doesn't.
There is the job to think of, and her role to play in it. More lies. He used to hate her ability to lie. Now, it's all he wants of her. He doesn't want to hear that she's worried or upset, doesn't want to know that she's often afraid and unhappy.
She plays the perfect escort to him, draws attention to herself when he makes a slight social faux pas, rescuing him from yet another jam, using her training and her beauty to distract and conciliate. She sees the anger in his eyes, lets her hand brush over his, and as he lifts his gaze to hers, her breath catches. He's there, staring out at her, her Mal, the one she hasn't seen in months. And then, just as sudden, he's gone again and he looks away, and it's all she can do not to cry.
She wants to leave, but they need the job – they can't survive on empty chopsticks - and she's not going to lose him another one. So she puts on her fake smile, one that is maybe less than it could be, but she's certain no one will notice.
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Date: 2006-07-05 03:20 pm (UTC)-2x2
He's lying to her.
She sees it in the way his eyes slide away from hers, the way he scratches his nose, the way he swallows, mouth filling with nervous saliva. All the signs fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.
He doesn't want to be here.
She wonders if it's the company or the environment that has him ill at ease. She hopes it's the latter, but she isn't sure yet.
It's always like this now, between them. Little white lies to keep the peace. He's so careful it drives her mad. She wants to push him, force an argument, force him to react. She doesn't.
There is the job to think of, and her role to play in it. More lies. He used to hate her ability to lie. Now, it's all he wants of her. He doesn't want to hear that she's worried or upset, doesn't want to know that she's often afraid and unhappy.
She plays the perfect escort to him, draws attention to herself when he makes a slight social faux pas, rescuing him from yet another jam, using her training and her beauty to distract and conciliate. She sees the anger in his eyes, lets her hand brush over his, and as he lifts his gaze to hers, her breath catches. He's there, staring out at her, her Mal, the one she hasn't seen in months. And then, just as sudden, he's gone again and he looks away, and it's all she can do not to cry.
She wants to leave, but they need the job – they can't survive on empty chopsticks - and she's not going to lose him another one. So she puts on her fake smile, one that is maybe less than it could be, but she's certain no one will notice.
Except he would, if he'd bother to look.