There's the itch to push - just a little more. If he's just a little more aggravating, she'll crack and want nothing more to do with him. It'd be easy to do. Be just a touch more petulant; he's pretty sure that'd do the trick. But instead he keeps his mouth shut, the pills in his hand, and frowns after her back as she makes her way down the center aisle in the direction of the dining car.
He doesn't think to look at his watch until well after she's been gone. By the time he does he has no idea how to gauge how long she's been gone, just that it seems longer than it should be. Determined not to feel guilty, he shifts down in his seat and does his best not to jostle his leg. The scenery slips past the window. It's muggy and grey and not at all the sort of weather one hopes for when traveling. By the time Chloe returns the pills have gone tacky from the heat of his fist.
"Thank you," he says, and is momentarily angry at himself for how sorry he does sound. He takes the glass of water, downs the pills and follows it with the tiniest sip he can manage. You know, to be properly vindictive about it.
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He doesn't think to look at his watch until well after she's been gone. By the time he does he has no idea how to gauge how long she's been gone, just that it seems longer than it should be. Determined not to feel guilty, he shifts down in his seat and does his best not to jostle his leg. The scenery slips past the window. It's muggy and grey and not at all the sort of weather one hopes for when traveling. By the time Chloe returns the pills have gone tacky from the heat of his fist.
"Thank you," he says, and is momentarily angry at himself for how sorry he does sound. He takes the glass of water, downs the pills and follows it with the tiniest sip he can manage. You know, to be properly vindictive about it.