Winter our discontent (RP)

"It has been fun today" she did notice the uncharacteristic hesitation in his face. She didn't know what it was about, only that she didn't like it. "I'll see you on the weekend" she gathered her bags, and reached for the doorhandle, smiling at him over her shoulder after she stepped out, umbrella first to protect her from the rain "Bye!"

Emma gave Sarah terse ‘hello’ when she walked into the apartment. She decided against asking if she found a job yet, or if she made any plans to move out. It’s only been a day since they’ve talked about, plus, she was in such a good mood after her shopping spree that she didn’t want to sour her evening. But if Sarah didn’t make plans to move out by the time she came back from the weekend retreat, she was going to get a lot pushier about it. Up to and including literally pushing her out the front door.

She carried her bags to the bedroom, and began hanging her new dressers in the closet. Her eyes stopped on that little red dress she got for Arundel, and her lips curled into a grin.

I did promise David, didn’t I?

Without hesitation, she peeled off her clothes and slipped the tight dress over her body. It didn’t take more then a few minutes to complete the look; bold red lipstick, untying her ponytail to allow her hair to fall loose over her shoulders, and lastly – the matching red high heels.
Like always, she admired her appearance in the mirror, spending more time than it took her to actually put the dress on, before walking back into the kitchen and picking up the knife, chopping vegetables for the salad like it was the most natural thing in the world. She kept one ear on the hallway the entire time though, waiting for the sound of the key in the lock...

That evening, Persephone tried to find information on the whispered one, "Barb", that phone number, demon contracts, and more, but it is all a waste of time. Obviously. She knew it would be, but doing it kept her busy, rather than thinking endlessly about what she should do. Should I call the number? What do I say if I do? How do I get 'Barb' to give me the contract? Is she just another flunkie? Is this like an endless chain of middle managers that can keep passing me to their supervisor, but you never get to someone who can do anything about anything? My god these people are good at what they do. I hate it. And so on, and on, and on.

It takes two Xanax and a few glasses of wine before she is able to sleep.

The next morning, Persephone awakens with a headache. Today is the day she promised to take Circe shopping. And it is the day she must orchestrate a first encounter with Viviana Norwood. She reviews what she has learned thus far: she is an Italian-British woman, about 30, who works in banking tech at HSBC, specializing in stock market tech. She is a closeted queer, single, and lives in the City.

She looks at Barb's number once more before sighing and finally venturing out of her room to get coffee, knowing that she is likely to encounter an excited Circe ready to shop till she drops.

Emma would be lying if she claimed making Sarah uncomfortable wasn't part of her plan. Another subtle (or not so subtle) reminder that she overstayed her welcome, and that her presence was disruptive to Emma's and David's routine. Not that David would ever take her right there on the kitchen's counter (he wasn't bold enough for that), but the idea that the possibility was somehow 'off the table' because of Sarah sleeping in their living room somehow irked her.

Still, she would have said something, if Sarah didn't end up having a full blown panic attack every time she tried. She couldn't get over how bashful and meek she was. This was supposed to be a stripper? She imagined it would take someone more flirtatious, chatty, confident with her body. Emma honestly couldn't picture her dancing on a stage, let alone seducing anyone into spending money. She only came alive around David. Emma had no idea how her husband managed to draw her out, and at this point, she didn’t care. She wasn’t looking to form a bond with her.

She allowed the silence to stretch a bit longer, letting Sarah marinate in her discomfort, before signing inwardly to herself "Can you grab me the feta, and half a red onion from the fridge?" she said without looking up from the cutting board. Maybe giving her something to do would help with her social anxiety. And if not, it would at least make her useful...