[It doesn't take a genius to see that there's more to the story than that. What it might be is another thing entirely; his mind darts towards several explanations, but ah, what's the use in mere speculation?]
Perhaps.
[It's a gentle sort of placeholder, not dismissing that so much as setting it aside. Maybe they would have starved, but almost assuredly that's not why things didn't work out.]
What caused her to uninvite you? That seems . . . callous, especially given your world.
[Actually, two questions:]
Your friend, his girlfriend, and you. Who were the other two?
(Abby promptly gets a look on her face. Ughgh, Mel. She really doesn't want to think about Mel if she doesn't have to. Mel is complicated for several reasons, more so than what happened right at the end of their relationship. The notion of her still sits in Abby's throat from time to time as a weird knot of guilt that's too hard to swallow around.
In the interest of clearing that question quick so she can move onto the next (she would like to talk about Lev to Fenris, actually,) she explains offhandedly:) I guess she figured out I fucked her boyfriend behind her back.
[He blinks just once, stark surprise on his face— honestly, half for the revelation and half for the sheer bluntness with which it was said. For a long moment they stare at each other, and oh, look at how red she's gotten . . .
Honestly? He doesn't judge. He cannot say he approves, but he doesn't know Owen and Mel and he never will, and he won't be so pretentious as to be morally outraged on their behalf. Besides: they all of them have done things they aren't necessarily proud of. It happens.
But oh, that sentence, and he frowns.]
And yet you did.
[Like, duh, but his point being:]
Perhaps you wish to speak of it . . .?
I will not say there is no shame in sleeping with someone's partner, but there are worse crimes, too.
(Short of getting up from the table and abruptly leaving the room there isn't much else to do but sit here and squirm for a moment. Abby looks away while she gathers her composure, one hand curled protectively around the nape of her neck; eventually it drops, to tug idly at her braid. She mumbles,) You're the first person I've said that to, (just to underscore that she really, truly, did not mean to fucking say it at all. The hell has come over her?
A pause. She has no idea whether she's saying this to save face or not but-) I didn't plan on it. He... (ururughghh no she really doesn't wanna start thinking about that night, not right now! If it isn't clear, she's mortified.
Even so, she'll try again.) We used to be together. Me and him. We were arguing about leaving Seattle and it just... happened.
[It isn't the time nor place, but still, some part of Fenris is quietly pleased that she'd say something like that to him. You're the first person I've said that to, and he'll realize later it wasn't so much a marker of intimacy as it was forced honesty, but still.]
I have had—
[Well.]
It is not quite the same. She was not attached to anyone at the time. But I have had evenings with a woman where such things just happened. Attraction is a powerful force. So is anger. And the two combined are . . . formidable.
[And maybe Astarion is rubbing off on him a little, for he cannot help but ask (sympathetically, but still):]
(Abby exhales in a rush and returns to fucking with her braid, fiddling idly while he talks. What he says is true, it was... definitely a combination of lingering tension and being angry and– she supposes, deep down, what she really wanted was something, anything to be normal, like it used to be, before everything around her went to pieces.
But–) Nope. (Shaking her head, now.) It really wasn't, it just... made everything weird.
(She supposes she gave him more of the exact same false hope Santa Barbara did. Owen didn't deserve that. Her cheeks are still pink when she goes to scrub at her face, giving Fenris a little look over her empty bowl.) Can you keep that between us? Please?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Perhaps.
[It's a gentle sort of placeholder, not dismissing that so much as setting it aside. Maybe they would have starved, but almost assuredly that's not why things didn't work out.]
What caused her to uninvite you? That seems . . . callous, especially given your world.
[Actually, two questions:]
Your friend, his girlfriend, and you. Who were the other two?
no subject
In the interest of clearing that question quick so she can move onto the next (she would like to talk about Lev to Fenris, actually,) she explains offhandedly:) I guess she figured out I fucked her boyfriend behind her back.
no subject
She clears her throat. Her face is burning.)
... I didn't mean to say that either. (Feels like the weakest defense.
Hey, uh. What the fuck is going on??)
no subject
Honestly? He doesn't judge. He cannot say he approves, but he doesn't know Owen and Mel and he never will, and he won't be so pretentious as to be morally outraged on their behalf. Besides: they all of them have done things they aren't necessarily proud of. It happens.
But oh, that sentence, and he frowns.]
And yet you did.
[Like, duh, but his point being:]
Perhaps you wish to speak of it . . .?
I will not say there is no shame in sleeping with someone's partner, but there are worse crimes, too.
no subject
A pause. She has no idea whether she's saying this to save face or not but-) I didn't plan on it. He... (ururughghh no she really doesn't wanna start thinking about that night, not right now! If it isn't clear, she's mortified.
Even so, she'll try again.) We used to be together. Me and him. We were arguing about leaving Seattle and it just... happened.
no subject
I have had—
[Well.]
It is not quite the same. She was not attached to anyone at the time. But I have had evenings with a woman where such things just happened. Attraction is a powerful force. So is anger. And the two combined are . . . formidable.
[And maybe Astarion is rubbing off on him a little, for he cannot help but ask (sympathetically, but still):]
Was it worth it?
no subject
But–) Nope. (Shaking her head, now.) It really wasn't, it just... made everything weird.
(She supposes she gave him more of the exact same false hope Santa Barbara did. Owen didn't deserve that. Her cheeks are still pink when she goes to scrub at her face, giving Fenris a little look over her empty bowl.) Can you keep that between us? Please?