“While government authorities are still investigating the closure of the rift, no official announcements have been made. However that hasn’t stopped it from dominat-”[/font]

The blaring television down the hall clicked to sudden silence, drawing no few cries of dismay, yet Simon found himself barely giving them a second thought as he stifled a yawn and tried to sit up before abandoning the effort. Tilting his head upwards instead as his azure eyes swept room; passing over paintings, furniture and pausing only briefly on the hanging clock which happily removed whatever minute little sliver of guilt he might have felt for unplugging the tv.

What on earth were people even doing up at this hour? Damn near the entire city had been crowded around the Rift when it finally sealed itself shut just three minutes before midnight. He knew it had been three minutes before midnight because he’d been banking on another day and started counting every second when he realized it was actually sealing early and had almost lost a hand when he ghosted through at the last moment.

Still, after spending the better part of a year in another reality he’d made it home, even if he’d been left feeling like a tangled ribbon with far too many frayed ends for comfort. The feeling did eventually pass and when the quarantine zone finally opened after an hour he’d managed to drag himself out and get lost amongst the throngs of loitering New Yorkers enjoying what street theatre still lingered.

From there well, he’d been so exhausted that things faded in and out. After being away for so long the one apartment lease he’d held had expired, and he hadn’t enough money on hand for hotel and while he could have paid on credit it would have caused a paper trail that raised more questions than he really wanted to answer.

Especially when there somewhere that would accept him free of charge.

It was at that point the bed shifted and Simon found himself glancing down at a curtain of brown hair as its owner tried to burrow further into him. Clinging tightly to his side in an effort to escape the cold of fallen blankets the soubrettes movements only served to remind the hessian how much neither of them were wearing and how exactly they’d gotten to that point.

It wasn’t as though he’d expected it to happen.

Granted it wasn’t the first… or second, time they’d shared a bed.

..and he might have forgotten how well kisses distracted her; they hadn’t seen each other for a year.

...And she’d still felt the need to track him down in the middle of the night.

How had she’d even known to look for him though? The only person he’d told was his sis-

“God damn it Maya.” He muttered, covering his eyes with his free hand and drawing in a slow breath as he forced his weary mind to work and after several moment he realized he was avoiding the real issue, the elephant in the room, or more precisely, the buxom brunette in his bed.

A one night stand was precisely that, a repeat could be chalked up to coincidence, but a third night? That, that was starting to become habit and the fact he couldn’t tell if that was good or bad spoke volumes he still didn’t want to consider.

When had Isabel become complicated?

A year. A whole year being back on the right side of things after getting swept up through the rip, give or take a few weeks. And a year being separated from Zephyr, who had decided to set up shop on the wrong side of the rift after the two of them had gotten involved with Poseidon's operation.

It was freeing, not being under his thumb all the damn time. Even if the compulsion she felt to follow his directions stayed firmly in place it was still liberating not to have him holding her back all the time, teasing her, making his little comments about how she acted, shutting her up in his obnoxious, personal space-invading ways. She could quietly rampage, satiate her bloodlust more freely, and sleep in late, all without direct repercussion.

But like all things, the exciting newness of it had eventually worn off. The Syndicate kept her busy enough and the secure familiarity of working with a faction again had her feeling relatively fulfilled, content. But the down days left her bored and restless which only ever lead to trouble. At the very least she could drink without concern.

She had occupied some of the spare time flipping through different news channels in the Sanctuary's common room, or browsing articles on her phone which she rarely ever left behind anymore. At first she was consciously browsing through articles about the rift, but eventually it became more of a habit than anything else.

The news of the rift finally closing had her nerves frayed in record time. Phone in one hand and a bottle of flavored rum that she'd stolen from one of the other residents in the other, she scanned trough the articles popping up as different news outlets submitted their coverage of the event.

The tear sealed, quarantine was enforced and then released. Dozens of news articles all reporting the same things in slightly different ways. Her notification tone sounded and Ghostyfriend's name popped up. Isabel watched as the notification hovered and then disappeared again. The rest of the rum just about vanishing before she opened the new message and read it, phone disappearing into her pocket again on her way out the door.

-----

Movement and muttered words drew a tired groan from her while she shifted, coveting the warmth that was quickly fading and wishing away the noise that already made her head throb. But the ache was already settling in fast, pulling her more fully up out of sleep and letting the waking world make itself known. The horrible, confusing waking world.

Daring to crack an eye open and take a peek around, the situation at hand settled firmly into reality. Withdrawing her arm from around the young man's body she drops her forehead against him with a loud groan, immediately regretting the movement as it sent an uncomfortable jolt trough her skull.

"Oh for fuck sake," she whined before she moved to curl away from the young man, fishing for the blankets so she could cocoon herself under them. "Not a word," she warned, grabbing a pillow and cramming it over her head while she groggily sorted through what she could remember from the night before. "Don't wanna talk about it."

'Whatever happened to the simple life?' It was an idle thought but still immensely preferable to considering the implications of his present situation, though that didn't mean much when the same could be said of counting the ceiling tiles for the third time.

Raising a hand to stifle a yawn Simon briefly debated sitting up again before abandoning the effort when Isabel's anr tightened around him in silent protest. It was funny really, given how much apprehension, anxiety and downright embarrassment she normally showed over any kind of intimacy, it always slipped his mind that the girl was a closet hugger when she slept. Honestly he was a little impressed she'd managed to make the position look comfortable; the bones in the body normally didn't...

Huh.

Curiosity getting the better of him Simon tilted his head and carefully lifted the blankets to try and get a better view of how the shapely soubrette had contorted herself, only glimpsing the pale skin of her gently curving back before she began to stir. Slowly unwrapping her and bringing them back to cradle her head the brunette brushed her hair aside and took stock for a moment before abruptly dropping her face bsck to his chest with a low moan that was both resigned and abashed and left the hessain rolling his eyes.

Truly they were the dictionary definition of a loving couple.

"Oh for fucks sake."

'That did seem to be the theme of last night, yes.' The thought struggled to break into words but even in his weary state Simon retained enough tact to know they'd be poorly received, and while he normally enjoyed needling the girl, he doubted either of them had the energy for their normal word games. And so instead, with a monumental effort of will the hessain restrained himself to a far tamer response that was as dry as Duskmoor vodka collection: "Good morning to you too.

This incredible peace offering was received with about as much civility as one could expect from Isabel.

"Not a word. Don't wanna talk about it."

In all honesty he was inclined to agree and might have been willing to let things lie a while longer if she hadn't started theiving all the blankets for herself. It was too cold and too bloody early for those kind of shenanigans.

It was the work of a short moment to heave the blankets back and slip an arm under her when she rolled with the movement so she lay back on top of him and letting him look her in the eye.

"It's too early to talk about this." he agreed after a moment. "But we can either talk about it now, or you can share the covers like the polite woman we both know you're not and we can get some more sleep."

"What will it be Issie?"[/i]

Sighing, she tried to remember the sequence of events from the night before. Trying to relax, drinking, monitoring the news. Pretty run of the mill for how most of her down days went.

Portal closing, increased anxiety and increased alcohol intake, then a text from Ghostfriend. Finding herself out the door and in the crowd of people moving both toward and away from the Rift, avoiding police and bots, waiting and watching, searching.

Quarantine release, the windbag, an attempt at an anxiety-induced shouting match. Angry, dizzy, relieved, frustrated with the jumble of slurred words and thoughts that wouldn't translate. Underhanded tactics, kissing, back to-

She gave a surprised squawk when the blankets were yanked back, taking her with them. Her face scrunched up while she waited for her head to stop spinning and hurting from the sudden movement. Once mild comfort returned she leveled a tired, irritated gaze at the young man below her, face starting to tinge pink even as she tried not to think about how close they still were.

A huff is the only initial reply she offered as he presented her with two choices, eyes rolling as she dropped her hand over his face and smooshed it to one side. Bad choices, both of them. No thanks. "I'll go with option C: none of the above," she grumbled, trying to push herself away from the young man once more. She'd rather just bury her head back under the pillow and ignore the world, blankets be damned.

Duskmoor was not the most… agreeable of souls. This was a simple truth the hessian had recognized long ago. In fact he was fairly certain that the brunettes picture would’ve had pride of place in dictionary as the definition of disagreeable if she weren’t also in the running for obstinate, recalcitrant, obdurate, bellicose, eristic and hard headed, though admittedly the last one applied a tad more literally than the rest.

All of which was to say that, when the soubrette wearily lifted her hand, he’d already tilted his head to avoid an errant finger to the eye when she dropped it again. That didn’t make having her palm on his mouth much of an improvement, but as his hands were currently rather full with the rest of the girl due to the right and proper reclamation of the blankets, there was only so much he could do about it at this stage.

Then Isabel decided to be difficult, or rather, more so.

Mumbling some jejune excuse the the soubrette started to shift, one hand pushing on his chest while the one on his head began to bury it in the pillows as she tried to push herself up. Wrapped as they were in the blankets though the brunette only managed to lift herself about a foot before the sheets tightened, leaving Isabel leaning over him and providing an… explicit reminder that their clothes were elsewhere.

Then it got better worse.

Apparently less than pleased with the blankets foul play Duskomoor did as she was wont to do when faced with a problem; use more force. Moving her hand off his jaw and onto the mattress for better leverage the brunette began pushing back repeatedly at the material as she tried to sit up, however as super strength wasn’t part of her gift the girls efforts went about as well as a kitten with a ball of yarn, if rather more entrancing.

As for Simon, while he normally would have been tempted to needle his partner/paramourassociate/companion?, he found himself for once without any quips or retorts, yet he couldn’t quite find it in himself to care since at that point Isabel had started trying to shake the sheets off her shoulders and, well...

Suffice to say there were other things in motion which took his attention and he was now fully awake.

Still, there was only so much temptation a man could take, enough was enough. Pushing up with his elbows(and more than a little invisible assistance) Simon raised himself into a sitting position, freeing the sheets at the same time and leaving Isabel in his lap as he wrapped his arms around her and planted a single kiss on her lips before resting his head on her shoulder.

“Issie,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t know what what the hell we have or if we even have it, but I do know that if you don’t stop shaking your tits at me we’re going to repeat last night, so unless that’s what you want...”

Pausing for a moment Simon lifted his head and pulled back until he could look Isabel in the eye. “Please. Don’t. Test. Me.”

---
OOC:This was like pulling teeth and I’m still not sure what I’ve come up but it’s written and that's the main thing. As usual, if you want me to change anything just shoot me a DM.

Why did everything have to be so damn difficult with Zephyr? Couldn't even get out of a damn bed without having to fight for it because he was a big stupid jerk with a big stupid face and liked to watch her suffer while he sat back and judged her like the jerk he was. Stupid smug bastard.

So used to not being able to just stab her way through the young man, it took a moment for the idea to simply cut her way out of the blanket trap to even occur to her, but by that point the opportunity had escaped her. Finally the blankets shifted and she was able to begin leaning back, but she was only able to get so far before she was stopped yet again. A cursing complaint was halfway out of her mouth before it was cut off.

Zephyr really was getting much too comfortable kissing her. But what was even more irritating than the sheer audacity of it was how effective it still managed to be even after so much time. Coupled with his arms snaking around her and his head on her shoulder, she was left at at a bit of a loss, a shiver creeping up her spine as he whispered his little threat in her ear.

She blinked slowly as he leaned back, processing her predicament and his words, cheeks steadily heating to a blazing red as everything sank into her still foggy mind. Stop doing what? Her jaw worked wordlessly for a moment, caught in a jumble of curses, denials, and demands but only managing an indignant huff before she shoved her hand back in his face, though she made no move to try and escape again, concerned that they might still be tangled up in the sheets just enough to land her in even more trouble.

"Nope. Nope, nope, there is nothing, this is nothing. Nothing is happening or will happen so you better stop threatening me and stop looking at everything."

Though he'd not seen her in over a year, Simon was well accustomed to Duskmoors effervescent moods and he found it oddly reassuring to find she was still as easy to read as ever. Utterly lacking in subtlety, it was simple to spot the moment understanding dawned as sleepy hazel eyes suddenly widened and her features turned scarlet while her mouth hung open as she tried and failed to form words. Her face painted a picture of such mortification that a quiet chuckle began to bubble in the elementals chest and quickly grew to full bodied laughter when Isabels expression turned indignant at his amusement, her features settling into an embarrassed pout.

Good lord, he'd forgotten how much fun it was to tease her. Granted, a good part of it right now was just from lack of sleep, but if it helped lower the sudden tension in the room he'd take it.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and as the butt of his amusement Isabel was understandably unwilling to endure his laughter any longer than necessary and, single minded straightforward as she was the girl went with what had worked before and promptly tried to muffle his laughter with her hand pushing his head away from hers, letting her avoid eye contact and giving the soubrette a chance to get a word in edgewise as she sputtered denials and demands which were less than half hearted since she'd made no move to leave his lap or his arms.

With that said, her words did manage to make him pause and so, fighting back a yawn as he tried to catch his breath while his laughter slowly subsided taking his earlier energy with it, Simon carefully lifted one arm from the girl to gently tug her hand away from his mouth as he sought for words. "Not a threat Issie, more a warning." Seeing her less than reassured look the elemental gave a rueful chuckle as he cast about for a better explanation. "Think of it this way; we get carried away rather easily when we're not careful, yes?" He waited for a hesitant nod from the girl before proceeding.

"Well, you can be very,"

He leaned in.

"very"

He tilted his head.

"distracting."

Pressing his lips to hers for the second time that morning he lingered just long for Isabel to start returning the kiss before pulling back and giving the brunette a knowing look that might have also been just slightly smug. "Not very fair is it?" Seeing the soubrettes less than amused expression at his little demonstration though he decided to take a piece of humble pie and adopted a wry grin before continuing.

"Well, that's what you were doing to me when you... " he trailed off as he glanced downwards briefly, pausing to appreciate the view only a little longer than necessary to prove his point before lifting his eyes back to hers with an unabashed shrug. "Which is all a roundabout way of saying that beauty is distracting and you are very beautiful. So please take pity on me hmm?" He rested his head against her once more. "You know not what power you have.

Had he said humble pie? He meant shameless flattery.

This was so not how things were supposed to be going. Drunk nights and hungover mornings always meant backpedaling and hasty exits while snark and denials shot back and forth. Not... whatever it was that was happening at the moment. Her attempt to shut everything down had been ruined, which was normal enough, but then it turned into some kind of weirdness and she wasn't exactly sure where to go from there.

Being laughed at by the young man wasn't anything new and it was still as irritatingly embarrassing as ever. She debated digging her fingers into his cheeks while he fought to get himself under control, she how funny he thought it was with her fingernails digging into his skin. But instead she waited. He pulled her hand away and she simply let it go.

Isabel watched him warily as he started speaking again, far too used to his willingness to retaliate to simply accept that he didn't mean to carry through with his words, that there wasn't just the littlest bit of a threat in them. His stupid, terrible words that made her face feel too hot and left her stomach feeling bubbly.

And then there was more kissing and she couldn't quite get herself to pull back away from him, indignant as she was. She hated it when he did that to her, trying to shut her up or prove a point by getting her all flustered. But there was a strange familiarity to it that also put her at ease for one reason or another. Aggravating as ever, but comfortable. Normal.

Shit. Had she...?

The kiss broke and Zephyr fell back to teasing as he always did. Her jaw set, annoyed in response to the smug look on his face, that self-satisfied attitude that always showed up when he proved his point and maybe knocked her down a peg in the process. Infuriating. Normal. "Stop doing that!"

She shook his hand off with an exasperated sigh and snapped her knuckles against his bare chest at his little demonstration of her distracting qualities, her other arm curling around her chest as she huffed. Had it been possible her face might have darkened several more shades, not just because of the staring but also from the oddly flattering words. He always teased her, but he was rarely ever so generous about it. Compliments were few and far between, tenderness even more so. It was hard to know how to proceed.

His head fell again and she allowed it, busy trying to think and process what exactly was happening, wishing that her stomach would stop doing flips and her cheeks would cool and stop distracting her. Things were not proceeding in the usual way, which was a little disconcerting and she almost expected it to go sour and open up the door to more teasing at her expense, for that smugness to creep back in with the demonstration that it was just as easy as ever for him to manipulate her even after so long apart.

But somehow that was okay. It was normalcy, business as usual. The whole thing, oddly as it was unfolding, was strangely comforting. Things were falling back into place, life was already returning to normal and annoyed and embarrassed as she was she also found that she was rather content in the moment.

Oh.

Oh no...

She had missed him.

No, no, no. Nope. Nuh-uh. That was too much to even begin to unpack at the moment. Isabel was far too tired, her head still just achy enough to want to stubbornly nip that thought right in the bud before it sent her into a full-blown headache and an emotional crisis. It was too damn early for any of that. Best to just never think about it again.

Shaking her head as if it would help clear away the unwanted thoughts, she heaved a sigh and turned her attention back to the young man currently wrapped around her. "You know pity's not really my style, even if you're being weird and saying really nice things for whatever reason. But I do like the sound of power." Placing a hand against his chest she pushed just hard enough to get him to sit back up before she leaned forward and brushed her cheek against his to speak against his ear. "And you know how much I like exercising my power. So I think I'll start here..."

And with that she fisted both hands in the blankets and pulled, turning out of his grip and rolling herself up into a cocoon of sheets like she'd wanted to do in the first place. Turnabout was fair play.

Falling asleep in a curled sitting position like a puppet with broken strings wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but nor was it the hardest and with his head still resting against Isabel's and the brunette having ‘impaired’ the view so to speak, Simon found himself fighting to keep his eyes open following his bout of laughter, the remnants of which still had a faint smile on his face.

In all honesty, given how impractical their current pose was, it spoke volumes about how tired they were that neither of them had bothered to move. Spines really weren’t meant to rest that way and while Duskmoor could treat contortions like a walk in the park Simon could tell his neck would be waging war with him later. Then again, given that he regularly reassemble himself on the fly it was all rather a moot point anyway.

Hmm, did this mean he was using Isabel as a pillow? Or was she using him?

Fortunately, before the hessian managed to voice that particular thought the brunette in question began to shake her head causing his own to fall and breaking his torpor as he caught himself and blinked bemusedly at the girl as she began speaking.

“...even if you're being weird and saying really nice things for whatever reason. ”

“...your compliments need work.”

“But I do like the sound of power.”

Wait, what?

Before he could come up with another quip the soubrette carefully pushed him upright with one hand, letting him catch her lidded gaze for just a moment before her lips grazed his cheek and her next whispered words left him to stiffen even furth. Was she honestly-?

A sudden whirl of movement, followed by a distinct lack of warmth and weight as Isabel once again stole the blankets, wrapped herself in cocoon and rolled off his lap, knocking him down in the process and leaving him to stare at the ceiling.

He really should have seen that coming.

Fighting down the sudden surge of frustration with a combination of weariness and long suffering patience Simon slowly counted back from five before he let himself speak in a tone of dead calm. “Touche, Isabel.”

It wasn’t often after all that the brunette managed to one up him, and it was certainly the first time she’d managed to do it like this. Considering how often he’d urged her to think around problems instead of fight her way through them, it would be downright hypocritical of him to retaliate.

“You realize of course, that this means war.”

As he grasped a glass of water from the bedside table Simon reflected that, of all the things he’d been called in his life, hypocrite didn’t even rank in the top ten.

---

Retribution was swift, but also brief, neither of them having enough energy to escalate things one way or another. While he’d managed to reclaim part of the blanket, specifically the dry part, at the cost of a bruise or two from Duskmoor, it had ended up being something of a moot point as they’d ultimately collapsed side by side and fallen asleep again in much the same position as they’d started in.

Neither of them moved again until well into the afternoon, and even then only reluctantly as hunger and thirst made themselves known, but even that was only enough for one of them to pick up a phone and having something delivered to the building, neither of them willing to venture outside just yet. Feeling mildly more alive and alert after having eaten Simon decided to break the rather awkward silence.

“So, where do we go from here?”

---

OOC: Wasn't quite sure where to end things so I'll give you the choice of deciding, you can treat the hypocrite line as the end or go with the brief time skip I put in, up to you. 

Belly full and headache receding, but still so very tired. Why was she still so tired? It felt like she could have stayed in bed for days and still not have gotten enough rest. Maybe it was the year-long bout of stress wearing off. I could be because sleeping in damp blankets wasn't exactly easy. Or maybe it was just that she'd forgotten how exhausting it was dealing with Zephyr.

Especially when he was prodding for answers.

With an exaggerated sigh she continued fishing her clothes off of the floor and pulling them on with her back to him, missing the cover of the blankets but not wanting her clothes to get damp from any remaining water.

The last thing she wanted to do was stick around and have a chat about anything that was happening or did happen or would happen. She didn't even really know what she wanted to think about the whole thing for herself, nevermind having some kind of back-and-forth about it with another person. Why couldn't he just allow her to scurry off in awkward silence like a normal person?

"This is a thing that's happened before for some reason I don't wanna think about," she said, haphazardly buttoning her shirt before she moved on to yanking on her boots, focused on the task at hand rather than the young man trying to engage her. "Figured we'd do the usual. Make a hasty exit, find the nearest liquor cabinet, never speak of it again. You know, the usual."

Sharing a bed was supposedly a sign of trust; there were entire volumes, if not libraries of poetry and fiction dedicated to that precise theme. Of the willingness to show and accept vulnerability by falling asleep together.

It was utter hogwash of course, half the time both parties were simply too exhausted from their exertions to think about how comfortable they were sleeping next to. someone Sharing a bed was a learned habit built over time and required partners to adjust to each sleeping habits. When that adjustment time was lacking? Well…

Simply put there was a reason great writers never focused on how bloody awkward it was to nod off beside someone who fidgeted every thirty seconds complete with knees, elbows and even the occasional headbutt. And that reason was truth never sold as well lies, but the best lies were always based on truth.

If trust was a cornerstone of relationships, then whatever he had with Isabel may as well be a roundhouse, or possibly an oil spill. Yes, that seemed far more apt; a rather hazardous if not mortiferous state of affairs that ignited into incandescence without proper caution. Despite its accuracy though he rather doubted Duskmoor would appreciate such a succinct summary of their realtionsp... rapport.

Which still left the question of precisely that was-

"This is a thing that's happened before for some reason I don't wanna think about,"

Absently buttoning his shirt Simon held back a sigh as he watched the girl struggle into her own top. In all honesty he was so far from surprised even the Hubble scope couldn’t see it. He’d long ago noticed that when faced with an issue she couldn’t bully, threaten of maim Duskmoors first instinct was to run, even from conversations.

"Figured we'd do the usual. Make a hasty exit, find the nearest liquor cabinet, never speak of it again. You know, the usual."

“Heh” Unable to keep the grin from his face Simon raised his gaze to ceiling as he fished a small pill bottle from his coat pocket. “So this is what they mean by mixed signals.” Downing a small capsule from the bottle Zephyr shook his head gently and raised an eyebrow at the brunettes look of confusion.

“I understand you don’t want to think about this, I don’t agree but I understand, yet I’m not sure you do.” Resting his hands in his pockets Simon kept his tone gentle as he continued. “You want to run away from this, ‘a hasty exit’. I get it, but then you want to go and drown your thoughts in liquor. Tell me Issie, have we ever slept together sober?”

He paused letting realization don on the soubrette and nodding as he considered his words carefully to avoid triggering the girls compulsion, “Quite the paradox isn’t it? That’s why I want to talk about this, I don’t think either of us understands what we want and until we do, this cycle will keep repeating”

Pulling out the only chair for himself he gestured her to the bed. “So please can we talk about this? If nothing else we need to agree on what we’ll tell my sister because we both know she won’t believe ‘nothing’”

He wanted to talk about it. Of course he wanted to talk about it. How had she managed to get mixed up with someone who was s damn talkative all the time? Worse than just talkative in itself. Talkative abut thoughts and feelings, arguably the worst kind of conversations to have.

Isabel glowered at him reproachfully as he motioned to the bed, trying not to think on the points he was already bringing up. Why couldn't he ever just let her do as she pleased and stop trying to make her understand why she did them? Or try to help himself understand them by picking her brain? Everything would be so much easier if he just stopped trying to figure her out.

With an unhappy, exaggerated groan she takes a seat on the edge of the bed curling her legs up under herself and dropping her chin heavily in her hand. He wasn't making demands, she didn't feel a pressing need to comply, but she knew it would never end otherwise. The subject would keep coming up until he got an answer he was satisfied with even if it meant goading her into a full-blown tantrum in the process.

"I can drink and be just fine as long as you're not around," she grumbled, deciding against bragging about her year of practice and busying herself with fixing the missed buttons on her shirt instead. "She doesn't have t believe it, but I'm still telling Ghosty nothing, cuz nothing is what's happening always."

Watching the brunette grudgingly drag herself over to the bed and curl up on the mattress Simon fought the urge to roll his eyes and lost. In all honesty her jejune behaviour should have been down right irritating, if not insulting, yet he found himself not only accommodating it but practically indulging it. Granted part of it was simply that the soubrettes behaviour doubled as a delaying tactic to a topic neither of them wanted to address.. whatever it was they had, but the rest...

Sad as it was to say, but this was Duskmoors equivalent of ‘behaving’ and he was loathe to discourage it. She hadn’t threatened or insulted him, thrown a tantrum or even tried to walk away. She’d listened and even though it was clear she didn’t like the girl had still sat down because some part of her agreed that they needed to talk, even if it was only so he’d stop asking about it.

That wouldn’t have happened a year ago, though come to that he wouldn’t have thought it could happen 24 hours ago yet here they were so clearly he didn’t know what was going through her head. Whatever had changed between them though, whatever had led Isabel to knock on his door last night, well, they could either dance around it for the next few days or weeks like clueless teenagers and suffer through the resulting drama, or they could handle it like adults.

Which, would be a hell of a lot easier if he could stop getting distracted as he realized he’d spent at least the last minute looking down her shirt watching her nervously fasten and unfasten the top buttons.

Letting out a short groan of irritation Simon buried his eyes in his hands and raised his face to the ceiling, staying silent just a few short moments before saying resignedly. “You don’t even know you’re doing it, do you?” It was as much a statement as a question and when Isabel didn’t immediately respond he carried on. “How can- No, never mind, could you please just sit up and stop playing with your shirt?”

After hearing the mattress shift, but unwilling to take any chances for the moment, he lowered his hands and crossed his arms while keeping his eyes on the ceiling. ” Alright, as far as what you said, in reverse order, your lies to my sister work about as well as a water cup made of sugar cubes. So good luck with that.”

“Secondly... the fact you can drink when I’m gone and not end up with someone else is- just another way of saying I’m the only one you’re willing to sleep with.” He concluded with a shrug as he finally lowered his head and met the girls gaze with his own before continuing in a soft tone.

“So what is it you want Isabel? Because it certainly doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’.”

Her shirt had so many more buttons than Isabel remembered it ever having before. Too many buttons and apparently an unmatched number of buttonholes judging by how often she kept missing one or two. Refusing to unbutton it all at once only made it more difficult to straighten out the mess as did the irritated, nervous tremor in her fingers, but it would get done if for no other reason than to keep er focus at least partially off of what else was happening.

She ignored Zephyr when he groaned, and again when he posed his likely hypothetical question, her gaze trained pointedly at her hands as she just about got her shirt in order. His following request earned him a sidelong glare while she finished fastening the button that was already between her fingers before she heaved a sigh and planted her hands on the mattress behind her and leaned back instead.

"She doesn't have to believe what I'm saying, but it's the only thing I'm gonna say either way." she replied in a matter-of-fact kind of way. Ghosty certainly wasn't dumb enough to take anything about her involvement with Zephyr at her word, especially not after what definitely did not happen back when they'd all met up that one time. But not believing a given answer wasn't enough to earn a new one. Friends or no, Isabel wasn't about to involve herself in those kinds of conversations.

The next observation wasn't so easy to dismiss, the words hitting her and sending a panicky jolt through her gut and down her spine. He met her startled gaze but she refused to hold it for more than a few seconds, her arms buckling so she could fall back against the mattress as her stomach sank instead.

"I do want nothing!" she snapped, arms lifting to press the heels of her hands against her eyes until colors started to burst behind her eyelids, trying to keep grounded under the pressure, to keep that panicky spark from igniting. This was a bad idea. She should have shut down and gotten out like she always did, rather than entertaining his want for conversation. This was only going to end badly and neither of them would be happy with the results. Trying to unpack anything about her was a bad idea. He was going to open too many different cans of worms and it would take her ages to get them all tucked away again as they should be. This was a bad idea.

She heaved a sigh and lessened some of the pressure against her skull, fingers biting into her palms instead as her gut twisted and her thoughts raced. "I don't know what I want."

In other circumstances, watching the sudden shock his words caused might have been amusing. As it was, they only served to make an awkward conversation even more so as Isabel grasped the implications of what she’d admitted, perhap-, no, most likely for the first time.
The soubrette was hardly one for self reflection after all, and the explanation he’d given for her actions had turned the girls perception of their… Hmm, ‘relationship’ really was the most suitable word wasn’t it?

Bugger.

Regardless, he’d turned whatever preconceptions Duskmoor had of the two of them on their head and from the way she refused to meet his eyes it had clearly unnerved her. His follow up question honestly hadn’t helped matters, but he knew the volatile brunette well enough by now not to take offense at her retort.

He could hardly begrudge her trying to dodge the topic when he was doing the same thing. He’d thrown the question at her without giving his own thoughts precisely because he didn’t want to think about his own feelings and keeping the conversation focused on Isabel was one way to do that that.

Knowing they needed to have this discussion was not the same as wanting it.

When Isabel remained stubbornly silent after a few moments Simon took a breath lifted his head back to the ceiling. It seemed as though he’d have to take the lead as usual-

“I don’t know what I want”

Well, this was promising, unexpected, but promising. It was an invitation to continue and he treated it with same cautious reverence one would use with an injured wild animal.

“Welcome to the club, it’s a very exclusive membership that consists of most of the planet. I’ll give you your card later.” Simon quipped in his dry brogue trying to ease the mood.

“I won’t lie to you Issie, this isn’t easy, but if thinking about us is too confusing, let’s put it aside. What do you want in life? Not your love life, just life in general.” He began counting items off on his fingers. “Food, shelter, friends, self esteem or happiness, those are the basics. Which of those do you have and which do you want to improve on? Sanctuary offers some but not all and it won’t last forever.”

“What are your goals? What do you want to change? I know you enjoy fighting, but what are you fighting for? Mutant equality? Supremacy? Or just the sheer thrill?”

Pausing a moment to take a breath he leaned back in his seat, elbow resting on the arm of the chair and cupping his chin with his hand as he regarded Isabel with a look of open curiosity even as he realized he’d elucidated a tad more than necessary.

“I suppose it’s all a long winded way of saying, if you ruled the world, what would you do?