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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 16, 2009 19:59:20 GMT -5
"It will keep," ::Pietro repeated, an assurance despite the lack of tonal change.::
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 16, 2009 20:06:51 GMT -5
She sighed and settled back in her seat. The more she pressed, the more he'd stall. It was one of the things one dealt with when talking to him.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 16, 2009 20:12:39 GMT -5
::Pietro's attention returned to the road. Not for the first time in his life, he wished for greater physical strength. He could not lift a car, let alone carry it; if he could...they would have been back in Westchester long ago.
In an attempt to distract her, and to break what silent would fall upon them, he turned on the radio. The Barenaked Ladies filled the air, singing about what they would do if they were millionaires.::
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 16, 2009 20:25:18 GMT -5
The music (such as it was) couldn't drown out her own thoughts, and she kept going back to that moment onstage. "I don't think they'll ask me to play that part again."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 16, 2009 20:26:29 GMT -5
::Pietro knew she was likely correct about that, and he was not one to offer false platitudes. But one company did not speak for them all. If he could find work....:: "There are other theatres."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 16, 2009 20:33:35 GMT -5
"I know," she said quietly. "But not other first performances." It had been her first time in a legitimate, paying production, her first time on a stage not as a student but as a true actress.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 16, 2009 20:38:12 GMT -5
::That Pietro understood well. In fact, it related to their relationship, although this was the worst time to bring it up, and thus he would not.:: "No, no other firsts."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 16, 2009 20:41:39 GMT -5
There were times when she wished Pietro would lighten the truth, just a little, even if she knew what he said was exaggerated and probably false. This was one of those times. The more frustrated she grew, the harder it became to hold form. What she wanted was to curl up with him and say nothing, but that wasn't possible, either. Her body flickered between forms, the coat doing its best to dampen her powers.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 16, 2009 20:53:05 GMT -5
::Pietro did not know what to say to assure her. As traffic opened, he stepped on the gas pedal, increasing their speed.:: "I will get you home."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 16, 2009 20:56:25 GMT -5
"I know." She wanted to sleep, but didn't know if it was safe to lose consciousness. Maybe the coat would hold her, maybe not. To keep awake, or at least try to, she began to sing along with the radio, to a song by Evanescence.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 16, 2009 21:07:15 GMT -5
::It took longer than Pietro would have preferred, but they returned home in one piece. He pulled the Acura up to the front of the mansion, not willing to delay a moment longer by bringing her to the garage.::
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 16, 2009 21:10:07 GMT -5
She opened the door to get out almost as soon as he stopped, needing to be up and walking. Her hand went halfway through the door once, but she managed to get it open.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 16, 2009 21:32:25 GMT -5
"Go inside," ::Pietro encouraged her. He would put the Acura away. Uncle was likely waiting.:: "If you're busy when I come in, I'll find you later."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 16, 2009 21:37:40 GMT -5
"All right." She was so buried into her coat that her voice was almost muffled. Afraid that saying more would cost her time she didn't have, she turned and went inside, knowing they'd talk later.
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