As arguments go, he could do more to be convincing. Paloma gives it due consideration, moving only with the knowledge that it's true he must be exhausted. She could outrun him, probably. The door creaks on its hinges.
"Alright. I'm out here." And on the other side of the couch, eyeing him up in spite of herself.
There's the other difference between them besides grooming, Hyde is very physical, unlike Jekyll who's always cooped up inside for science. He has muscle, not enough to tell the difference when fully clothed, but certainly while shirtless.
He cranes his neck to see her and pats the couch. "It's no good when you're both inebriated anyway, it's fine."
Yep. Yep yep. Hyde plays hard. The evidence is there.
"I'm-- !" her protest starts, then falters. Better not seem to be debating her inebriation, even if she's only had the pint. Her butt lowers slowly into the furthest cushion, continuously sneaking lingering glances. Her face feels warmer. "What now?"
In a way, his crassness is as complimentary as it is direct. He's a couple steps shy of street harassment without toeing over the line.
Be that as it may. She stops his lapward journey with a fully extended arm she locks into place, holding off the back of his damp head like a frisky mongrel. "I just don't go on dates! Hookups don't count the same way."
"Oh, then you're in good company. Or are you embarrassed? Who gives a shit, you're an adult, you can do what you want." He tries to push back against her hand, but soon gives up and swings his legs around to throw them over her lap instead.
Paloma exclaims in dismay at the turnabout. Sweaty punk legs all over her thighs, yet she doesn't feel properly disgusted. It's exactly like training a pet not to sit on the couch... and failing.
"Don't think we have the same reasons," she mutters, arms crossed.
"Yeah? What's your reason, always been too shy?" His arms stretch out over his head to fall where his legs had been a moment ago. Now all he needs is a belly rub.
He's rather physical for a near-stranger. Does he even remember her name?
Paloma glares at his long beanstalk legs, comparing them to her too-short ones. "Yeah, sure," she says cagily. Not very convincing, but she prefers to leave it there and not expound on her mistrust of people's intentions.
And some of it really is shyness. She pushes experimentally on his shin, hoping to get him off of her one limb at a time.
That's assuming he ever knew it in the first place. He probably didn't.
He's too loose and lethargic to steel his muscles against her push, and down goes a leg. "I think both are fun. Don't think Harry's ever had a girlfriend though, aren't you lucky."
"Getting ahead of yourself!" Emboldened, Paloma hauls his other leg off and away. Lord knows where he's been all day. "I haven't heard back. He's probably busy." Now, why did she go and tell him a goddamn thing?
"Not even a little!" He laughs, shrugging. "You might've noticed, but my brother's a bit of a loser. That's all. You're pretty and he's horny and repressed! It's a tough combination."
His gift for the lewd is pretty depressing, when it gets her thinking about how Mr. Jekyll might not care to know her as much as Know Her. It doesn't fit with her impressions, but suits her paranoia fine.
Uncomfortable, she impulsively pushes on his side to shove him off the couch.
Down he goes, and almost hits his head on the table. "--What the fuck!" He grumbles, before pulling himself back up to sit like a normal person, more or less.
When he can see above the cushions, Paloma is giggling despite her unease, impish smile curling behind a hand. He's allowed to rest in pieces-- er peace.
Helps to not be touched by strangers. "Being high doesn't mean you get to lay all over me."
"But I want to, I'd be laying on my bandmates if they were around, but it's you." Therefore because other people let him, she should too. Always about Hyde. "What I really want is to kiss you, but I'm being good."
'But I want to' is the most honest excuse anyone's ever given for doing something unnecessary. What he says after is what puts real heat into her cheeks.
"Um," she starts. Twin brother of the arts patron who has her digits is feeding her lines. She shrinks physically, looking away. "Yeah, you shouldn't be doing anything like that. It wouldn't end well."
"But I want to." He echoes himself, grinning with an eyebrow quirked. "You have nice lips, any moment that goes by without them being kissed is a crime."
Paloma, a weak, weak girl if someone clever starts in with flattery, who knows her weakness, freezes. She doesn't know whether to flap like an idiot moth caught in a web or to call him out for putting on the moves.
"Thanks for the cheese," will suffice. She slouches protectively, eyes down.
"It might sound cheesy but it's true!" He goes to rest his head on her shoulder, and in doing so finds it's a good place to plant a kiss too. And a little nip of a bite. "It's just not the same."
"Good!!" Rejecting the very curious part of herself who wants to see how he plans the attack, rejecting her severe attraction to him, Paloma scrambles clumsily off of the couch while she still can.
"I mean, it'd be good practice for you right? What else are twins for?" Since he looks just like him it'll be like she's kissing Jekyll! Then she won't be nervous when they go for it!
"I'm not a doll, or a toy," Paloma seethes. Her head is a bit clearer; she steps away. "And I told you I don't want to be in the middle of your problems with each other."
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"Alright. I'm out here." And on the other side of the couch, eyeing him up in spite of herself.
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He cranes his neck to see her and pats the couch. "It's no good when you're both inebriated anyway, it's fine."
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"I'm-- !" her protest starts, then falters. Better not seem to be debating her inebriation, even if she's only had the pint. Her butt lowers slowly into the furthest cushion, continuously sneaking lingering glances. Her face feels warmer. "What now?"
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Be that as it may. She stops his lapward journey with a fully extended arm she locks into place, holding off the back of his damp head like a frisky mongrel. "I just don't go on dates! Hookups don't count the same way."
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"Don't think we have the same reasons," she mutters, arms crossed.
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Paloma glares at his long beanstalk legs, comparing them to her too-short ones. "Yeah, sure," she says cagily. Not very convincing, but she prefers to leave it there and not expound on her mistrust of people's intentions.
And some of it really is shyness. She pushes experimentally on his shin, hoping to get him off of her one limb at a time.
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He's too loose and lethargic to steel his muscles against her push, and down goes a leg. "I think both are fun. Don't think Harry's ever had a girlfriend though, aren't you lucky."
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"Getting ahead of yourself!" Emboldened, Paloma hauls his other leg off and away. Lord knows where he's been all day. "I haven't heard back. He's probably busy." Now, why did she go and tell him a goddamn thing?
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"God knows why? Am I scary?"
Look at her. Is she?
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Uncomfortable, she impulsively pushes on his side to shove him off the couch.
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Helps to not be touched by strangers. "Being high doesn't mean you get to lay all over me."
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"Um," she starts. Twin brother of the arts patron who has her digits is feeding her lines. She shrinks physically, looking away. "Yeah, you shouldn't be doing anything like that. It wouldn't end well."
Don't you dare.
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"Thanks for the cheese," will suffice. She slouches protectively, eyes down.
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"Good!!" Rejecting the very curious part of herself who wants to see how he plans the attack, rejecting her severe attraction to him, Paloma scrambles clumsily off of the couch while she still can.
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Are full of it.
"I'm not a doll, or a toy," Paloma seethes. Her head is a bit clearer; she steps away. "And I told you I don't want to be in the middle of your problems with each other."
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