Yeah, (she's sitting up saying it, gesturing at him,) That's exactly what he said. (That he 'shipped it', and she fobbed him off immediately — but she's not going to tell Finch that after he went a little gooey talking about how nice Iggy is.)
[He squints a bit, like he's - wincing a bit at it.]
You know how we were all kind of plucked here? That's not my first time being yanked around like that, I landed somewhere else for a year between home and here. I met him there, initially. But when I came here he didn't remember me? But we still ended up kind of hooked up and... so it's been a while and then... not.
Peony's told me something similar. (And as casually as Finch did, like dimension-hopping is normal and the thought of it doesn't give her the fucking skitters like it does to Ptolemais.)
... Yeah. I thought for a while I should avoid him, too? 'Cause I didn't want to ever feel like I was forcing him into a role that happened naturally once, but y'know... might not be meant to happen twice. I even got advised to stay away. But uh, yeah. Didn't happen.
(To everything. It would have been difficult to try and initiate that again. It would have been difficult, for somebody like Finch, to pretend it never happened. Hmm.
She looks at him again over the lip of her can, and isn't exactly smiling when she says it.)
No. So you're experiencing my natural charm for the first time, lucky you.
[He knows better than to even think it'd be useful to have that roadmap if it were the case - there's too much baggage to knowing and not knowing people to want to wish that into existence. He's quiet for a beat, then:]
... An' I like getting to know you for the first time.
(She watches him for a moment longer before relaxing slowly back into the arm of the couch, satisfied with the answer. Yeah she doesn't understand any of the dimension hopping but she does know he wouldn't lie to her about something this serious.) Lucky me.
(And so she'll drink to that.
... And extend a leg outward, nudging her sock foot into his shoulder.) Any reason you're sitting on the ground like a loner and not joining me up here?
[Said with a verbal roll of his eyes and a smirk, and after he's been nudged he moves - like he remembers his limbs, remembers the space he occupies. He looks at her and then decides to take her up on this unspoken offer, hauling himself next to her. It's close but not too close, and his eyes skirt over her face - lingering.]
(But she pulls back and edits her spot, moving to make room for him to sit close if he wants — which he does, to an extent. There's that raspy, warm tobacco smell, old iron hiding underneath; smoke and blood, the scent that clings to him. Ptolemais relaxes. Slowly, testing waters, she extends her leg back out across his lap.)
You don't celebrate Thanksgiving? (He crashed the party for the pie and left.)
[He seems to relax a little bit more when she shows comfort around him, leg across him - his hand resting against her shin. He snorts a bit, then shakes his head.]
Not really - we, my family, we had our own weird holidays so I get the gist of it. But I didn't grow up with it and I didn't know half the people there so... I got the good stuff an' ran. Best way to deal with holidays in my opinion, eh?
(She likes that, the weight of his arm on her shin. It's grounding.)
I mean — I dunno. I haven't been home for the holidays in a couple years. And it doesn't even feel like the holidays anyway... the seasons are backwards. It should be getting hot.
You and I have that in common then - the not being home for a while. I like that people come together for stuff like this but I still feel like more of an outsider than not. It's just kind of who I am.
This world is upside down. (She jiggles his hand with her shin.)
My family likes to come together. It's not like I'm not invited or anything, I... (she sighs gustily and closes her eyes for a moment, frowning.) Can't make myself go. Dunno why.
[Finch would meet with his siblings if he could, he thinks. But he can't, or couldn't either - for reasons he wants to say are out of his control. But also might be a consequence of his own actions.]
We ever get out of this place, I'll invite you to my motel room for the holidays. Or we can celebrate in the back of my car. Or, well, your place.
Nah, not mine. I live with four other people. (And bringing Finch back to that feels... awkward, somehow.) But celebrating in the back of your car sounds good. What kind of celebrations?
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How long have you guys been together?
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[He squints a bit, like he's - wincing a bit at it.]
You know how we were all kind of plucked here? That's not my first time being yanked around like that, I landed somewhere else for a year between home and here. I met him there, initially. But when I came here he didn't remember me? But we still ended up kind of hooked up and... so it's been a while and then... not.
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So — you had to 50 First Dates him?
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[And better for it, honestly.]
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(To everything. It would have been difficult to try and initiate that again. It would have been difficult, for somebody like Finch, to pretend it never happened. Hmm.
She looks at him again over the lip of her can, and isn't exactly smiling when she says it.)
You didn't know me before I got here, right?
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No. So you're experiencing my natural charm for the first time, lucky you.
[He knows better than to even think it'd be useful to have that roadmap if it were the case - there's too much baggage to knowing and not knowing people to want to wish that into existence. He's quiet for a beat, then:]
... An' I like getting to know you for the first time.
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(And so she'll drink to that.
... And extend a leg outward, nudging her sock foot into his shoulder.) Any reason you're sitting on the ground like a loner and not joining me up here?
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[Said with a verbal roll of his eyes and a smirk, and after he's been nudged he moves - like he remembers his limbs, remembers the space he occupies. He looks at her and then decides to take her up on this unspoken offer, hauling himself next to her. It's close but not too close, and his eyes skirt over her face - lingering.]
But since you offered.
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(But she pulls back and edits her spot, moving to make room for him to sit close if he wants — which he does, to an extent. There's that raspy, warm tobacco smell, old iron hiding underneath; smoke and blood, the scent that clings to him. Ptolemais relaxes. Slowly, testing waters, she extends her leg back out across his lap.)
You don't celebrate Thanksgiving? (He crashed the party for the pie and left.)
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Not really - we, my family, we had our own weird holidays so I get the gist of it. But I didn't grow up with it and I didn't know half the people there so... I got the good stuff an' ran. Best way to deal with holidays in my opinion, eh?
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(She likes that, the weight of his arm on her shin. It's grounding.)
I mean — I dunno. I haven't been home for the holidays in a couple years. And it doesn't even feel like the holidays anyway... the seasons are backwards. It should be getting hot.
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[Playfully said. His hand stays where it is.]
You and I have that in common then - the not being home for a while. I like that people come together for stuff like this but I still feel like more of an outsider than not. It's just kind of who I am.
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My family likes to come together. It's not like I'm not invited or anything, I... (she sighs gustily and closes her eyes for a moment, frowning.) Can't make myself go. Dunno why.
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We ever get out of this place, I'll invite you to my motel room for the holidays. Or we can celebrate in the back of my car. Or, well, your place.
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Nah, not mine. I live with four other people. (And bringing Finch back to that feels... awkward, somehow.) But celebrating in the back of your car sounds good. What kind of celebrations?
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[He smiles, raising his brows.]
And dogs. You like dogs? Better say yeah, just sayin'.
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Wish I could get a dog. It's not really possible until I have my own house, you know?
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[Smiling, very team 'don't wait'.]