scorpioides | ( two )

[And she grins when she finds it, bites her lower lip and digs her finger a bit deeper, in a "stop me if you dare" fashion. It's mostly innocent, and at that very moment Riley couldn't come with a stupid "an angel and a demon walk into a bar" joke. Plus, Giles was warm - men were always interesting mobile furnaces, very handy - so if he moved, it was more than welcome.]

[ He laughs again, feeling ridiculous and childish, squirming and wiggling and trying to bat Riley's hand away. Eventually he rolls onto his side, trying to protect himself, catching Riley by the wrist, tugging her so slightly closer in the process, his mouth curved into a broader smile than he usually allows himself. ]

What part of this, exactly, constitutes as beauty sleep?

[Her mouth is caught in a wide smile of her own raspy laughter as she is faced with that question. She wriggles her leashed fingers playfully and she tries to figure out a quick answer.

It's not as quick as she wants, so she gives him a sheepish shrug.] It's... uuh... therapy?

Therapy, right. [ He relaxes a little, eyebrows still a little raised, watching Riley with a sort of playful wariness, lest she attempts to make another ticklish attack. ] Well, if you really did like the idea of keeping me a way, your therapy's doing a good job of it.

[She knows she's being a little brat. She kind of always is when she finds herself in a situation where she doesn't need to take care of her sister. It's as if she's compensating for the times she had to be a grown-up ahead of time.

She shrugs, as the most innocent of girls, her other hand slipping out from under the pillow, coming up to catch Giles' nose so very lightly.] Well, you're fun when you're awake.

[ Giles crinkles his nose, huffing with laughter once again. He hasn't been given a chance to act like a boy in a long while - not that he would consider himself that old, drifting around in his early thirties, but he's not at an age when you are afforded many chances to be youthful again. ]

Yeah, I guess you're not too bad yourself.

[She snorts. Taps her finger against the tip of his nose and tuts.] I bet you say that to all the girls.

[And because playing coy is not really her type, she can't keep that for long. Instead she just drops her trapped hand to her waist, not caring if it brought Giles' with it.] Now, seriously, do y'wanna sleep? Because you did look pretty tired before that grin got in your face.

Only the ones that keep tapping me on the nose.

[ Giles' hand does indeed follow Riley's down to her waist, where it dumbly lingers for a moment before releasing her and withdrawing to Giles' side. He shakes his head a little, dismissively. ]

Would it be stupid say I don't really care? A little bit of grinning and I feel like I could probably do the whole day over again. [ ... er ] Well, not really, but- you know what I mean.

[She chuckles, light and easy, and it's her turn to shake her head] Man, you're just way too flattering sometimes to be true. Someone else and I'd say you'd be trying to get into my pants.

[ The comment subdues Giles a little, and he shrugs a little, his eyes closing. ]

There are better ways to win a girl over than just flattering her to death, in my opinion.

Well, you're not "someone else". [She nods subconsciously, agreeing immediately. But her eyebrows are arched in curiosity. She doesn't think they ever talked about this kind of thing.]

What other ways would you use, then?

I'd use time, honesty... there's no point thinking that everything'll fall into place immediately, and even less in allowing someone to think you're something that you're not. [ He pauses, laughing sheepishly. ] I suppose those things don't matter if you're not out for a relationship, though, but one night stands and the like were never really my thing.

You do look like the settling type, yeah. [She's thoughtful and silent for a moment, eyes settling on the shadows cast by Giles' collarbone peeking under his shirt's collar. Pairing up in a setting like her home is difficult. She should know, she's partnered up with her sister, but it was duty and a blood bond and the loyalty that's inherent to it like a really bad Chinese trap that doesn't let you go when you get even closer. To end up in a stable relationship like the one he's referring to would only make things... unstable. It's another burden, another liability, another thing that Riley would have to worry about.

Their Harley's side-car only had room for one, after all.]

Honesty is a good policy to have even on those nights. [She tries to shrug cavalierly, trying to blow a stray strand of her hair that kept falling on her face. She had her share of close encounters with danger and disappointment in those, as well.]

It hasn't really worked out for me so far, though, settling. [ Giles keeps his eyes closed, though his mouth curves into a somewhat rueful smile. ] I think the idea of settling suits me more than the act of it.

[ He thinks of himself as something of an emotional liability; god only knows if he gets through the rest of this year and remembers it when he reaches the next. His memory is so cloud nowadays. Things that happened only a few months ago are hazier than they ever were before, and in the mornings he spends a few minutes staring at the ceiling, waiting for yesterday to come back to him fully, going over the memories carefully when they do. ]

Honesty's often the best policy in general, I say. It has to be one hell of a circumstance for it not to be.

Why do you say that? [It's an interesting concept, she figured. She never even considered settling down. Unless she built a fort in some kind of abandoned missile silo.]

[She nods, letting the rustling of her skin against the fibres of the sheets do the work of signalling an answer. Riley likes seeing him with his eyes closed. He looks comfortable. Even if she looked and was significantly relaxed around Giles, she still covets that tranquillity in his face and tries to get some of it herself. So she wiggles closer, skinny and scarred long arms wrapping around her stomach when she scoots into the gap of mattress that was between them, gangly legs twisting when she lays onto her back casually, eyes closing.]

[ He tries not to feel too conscious of Riley wriggling closer, but it's a little bit distracting. There's a pause before he answers, wondering if this is really an appropriate or enjoyable shift in conversation. Still, it's not something that he's ever really been given a chance to do with others, talking about things that've happened. ]

I'm divorced. [ There. It's simpler to say than he thought. ] And I think I saw it coming years ago, but never really accepted it because I wanted to be settled and have stability more than I wanted the actual relationship.

[She opens one eye, the greyish blue searching for an expression there, though more from curiosity than shock.]

Why did you want that stability so much? [She could understand it, but she doubted it were for that same reason as her.]

Because my parents wanted me to have stability. [ He shrugs a little, lightly. His expression remains fairly impassive, calm. ] And I trusted them to know what was best for me, but it wasn't what I was looking for, I just took what came along and hoped for the best.

[ Another little pause, where he wants to shrug again, but restrains himself. He wants to potentially give a theory as to why the divorce happened, but he realises it'd be just that: theory. He still doesn't actually know, considering that his memories of the previous year are still very much in limbo somewhere. ]

[She supposes she knows what he's talking about. She had a vague sense that regardless of all the shit she pulled, her mother wanted nothing but the best for her, the best for them. The problem with her mother was that she was too wild a heart, stuck to a dream of ravenous romance that was only fuelled by the Harley Davidson her father left her. She still remembered the occasional scent of alcohol, gasoline and fumes that stuck to her mother's clothes, even when they were huddling together for warmth under the patchwork blanket she wore now as a tunic every now and then. She figures that parents were always like this, a little reckless but always well-intended.]

[So she sighs, and her voice acquires a small, nostalgia-laced and fragile lilt - one that is rare, unconsciously smothered by that "move on, move on, move on" attitude that adds the gait to her walk.] You can't really blame them, right?

( two )

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