[ That was so.. Cringe!! Argh!! Lottie makes the worst kind of face at that β half embarrassed and half just, she doesn't know, appalled he even said that to her (sure, she did call him dad just like how she calls Esther mom when she harps at her, but still, at least she didn't continue the joke.. And it's different!!). She follows after him, sighing deeply β ]
Stop! Just stop.
[ I'm an adult, she wants to scream, the only bedtime stories she reads are her favorite comments people put on her blog. Andβ she just needs to cut that train of thought off right now, clearly. She glares up at him, ]
( as they step outside, the night air feeling cool and pleasant and welcome after the oppressive stuffiness of the mission (it wasn't, it only seemed that way due to emotions, none of which marc particularly acknowledges), he holds a hand up and pointedly doesn't look at her. there's a car — a honda civic, white — parked a couple of street lamps away. marc can't read the number plate, lottie didn't tell it to him anyway, but he assumes that's her car. )
You called me dad, ( he levels at her, finally looking back over his shoulder to her. the glare, the distinct aura of 'thoroughly unimpressed'. what was he supposed to do, just let the jab go? no. where frenchie had always made fun of marc's americanness, marc had always responded in kind about jean-paul's frenchness, the two of them throwing half-hearted stereotypes at each other. (marc's knowledge of france had always been less than jean-paul's knowledge of america, had relied a lot on cheese and wine.) ) And—
( there's half a second where he thinks of adding something else, and it's visible in his expression for exactly as long as it takes to change his mind. he drops his hand, gestures across the road. )
[ The incredibly petty part of Lottie wants to say, 'You were acting like one about me saying you don't have to put your shoes on?! What do you expect me to say?' but the fight dies down when he cuts himself off. As curious as she is to know what he was going to say, she won't press him on it now (because boy, that expression, it's refreshing to see Marc visibly think in the same way she does). No, she'll do it when she gets home from the safety of her bed.
Her eyes, eventually make their way to her car β a white honda civic, pointedly parked away from where she put her pickup spot, her lips curl down vaguely pissed β right as his hand eases down. Her gaze sidles over to him, her own face giving away that she's thinkingβ
(Oh, man, she has the opportunity to do the funniest thing and say bye dad but she won't. He'd be so pissy at her and it'd be kinda worth it but she won't!! But she could? But she won't!!)
βbut then it settles, as she shuffles her weight between her feet and inhales. ]
..That is my car. [ A beat, before she scratches at her neck, ] Thanks, again, for paying. I'll text you when I get home?
Don't worry about it. (it's fine, he means, and it takes him only a second to realise it's not clear if he means 'don't worry about him paying' or ;don't worry about texting', and hurriedly— )
You came out here, ( he adds, attention returning to the car parked across the road, the one that lottie was so thoroughly displeased by. he can only guess why, but he imagines it's because the car is not parked outside the mission; and he imagines it's not parked outside the mission because it's the mission. it's not a comforting building in and of itself, made less so by the fact that it quote-unquote was rebuilt over night.
(and by the fact that whilst marc has decided this area of new york is HIS, and whilst there are a large number of his neighbours that do seem to appreciate the work he does — even if it comes with a side of 'crescent moons spray painted on the side of buildings' — there are others that are less than impressed with the attention marc draws.) )
[ It is definitely because she put the direct pick up spot in front of the Mission, and one can only guess the reason why she'd be there (definitely not to salvage a friendship on the rocks, that's for sureβ which can be her own fun little secret, now that she thinks about it?). She doesn't disagree with him, though, she was the one who came out here, so it's nice that he's returning the favor, in a way. Expressing his gratitude, in his own way.
And clarifying what he means, for her sake, because she, too, got a little confused on what she wasn't supposed to worry about. She smiles the tiniest bit, gives a light nod of her head while her hands.. Well, they're going to stay in her pockets, because she's not sure if they should hug or handshake or.. Do something atypical for them? Just because it's been an emotional night?? ]
Okay, cool. Seeya?
[ And because she isn't sure, she just playfully bumps her shoulder into his as she passes, looks both ways before crossing the street andβ gets into that uber. Not before waving to him, though, as the car takes off back to her place.
( he's still awake when she gets home because in spite of his internal musings on 'feeling awful' and 'god, SO TIRED', marc is still marc and refuses to do anything that might be good for him as a person.
he doesn't quite leave her on read (is tempted), and instead sends her a solitary— )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Stop! Just stop.
[ I'm an adult, she wants to scream, the only bedtime stories she reads are her favorite comments people put on her blog. Andβ she just needs to cut that train of thought off right now, clearly. She glares up at him, ]
I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that.
no subject
You called me dad, ( he levels at her, finally looking back over his shoulder to her. the glare, the distinct aura of 'thoroughly unimpressed'. what was he supposed to do, just let the jab go? no. where frenchie had always made fun of marc's americanness, marc had always responded in kind about jean-paul's frenchness, the two of them throwing half-hearted stereotypes at each other. (marc's knowledge of france had always been less than jean-paul's knowledge of america, had relied a lot on cheese and wine.) ) And—
( there's half a second where he thinks of adding something else, and it's visible in his expression for exactly as long as it takes to change his mind. he drops his hand, gestures across the road. )
—That's your car.
no subject
Her eyes, eventually make their way to her car β a white honda civic, pointedly parked away from where she put her pickup spot, her lips curl down vaguely pissed β right as his hand eases down. Her gaze sidles over to him, her own face giving away that she's thinkingβ
(Oh, man, she has the opportunity to do the funniest thing and say bye dad but she won't. He'd be so pissy at her and it'd be kinda worth it but she won't!! But she could? But she won't!!)
βbut then it settles, as she shuffles her weight between her feet and inhales. ]
..That is my car. [ A beat, before she scratches at her neck, ] Thanks, again, for paying. I'll text you when I get home?
no subject
You came out here, ( he adds, attention returning to the car parked across the road, the one that lottie was so thoroughly displeased by. he can only guess why, but he imagines it's because the car is not parked outside the mission; and he imagines it's not parked outside the mission because it's the mission. it's not a comforting building in and of itself, made less so by the fact that it quote-unquote was rebuilt over night.
(and by the fact that whilst marc has decided this area of new york is HIS, and whilst there are a large number of his neighbours that do seem to appreciate the work he does — even if it comes with a side of 'crescent moons spray painted on the side of buildings' — there are others that are less than impressed with the attention marc draws.) )
Please do.
no subject
And clarifying what he means, for her sake, because she, too, got a little confused on what she wasn't supposed to worry about. She smiles the tiniest bit, gives a light nod of her head while her hands.. Well, they're going to stay in her pockets, because she's not sure if they should hug or handshake or.. Do something atypical for them? Just because it's been an emotional night?? ]
Okay, cool. Seeya?
[ And because she isn't sure, she just playfully bumps her shoulder into his as she passes, looks both ways before crossing the street andβ gets into that uber. Not before waving to him, though, as the car takes off back to her place.
Approximately thirty minutes later, he'll get: ]
homee
no subject
he doesn't quite leave her on read (is tempted), and instead sends her a solitary— )
π
( reconsidered a fraction later— )
Good night.
( "go to bed." )
no subject
u first
[ Followed by: ]
gn!!!