apathy's like a wound in salt. [torrence]

She let out a snort of laughter. Realistically, what was he going to do about it? There wasn't anything stopping her from leaving and getting another one. She liked the repetitive needling sensation as the artist worked on her skin and it was easy to see why a lot of people thought tattoos were addictive. "You can't have all the fun," she tutted. "Maybe I'll get my nose pierced as well," she mused before she smiled.

A genius? "I know, right?" She answered, eyes wide in faux surprise before she smiled easily. "Modest, too," Perdita tacked on, acutely aware of Torrence watching her. It was only a tee shirt but it felt like it was so much more. It smelled fresh and she didn't know why she was surprised, he always smelled nice, like leather and tobacco. Aware of the silence, she cleared her throat before she left him alone in his bedroom momentarily.

They could laugh and joke and skirt around the subject all they liked but it was still there. Not that it mattered, trying to rationalise it, because neither of them were rational people. It was easier to just let it slide but as she stood in his kitchen at two in the morning, wearing his tee shirt after sharing a bath, it definitely felt more intimate. And now, she was cooking dinner.

Absently, Perdita cooked the veg, poking it around the wok with a spoon before he joined her. He spread out comfortably and at Torrence's comment, she let out a genuine laugh. "Smart," she announced, pointing the spoon at him before she wiggled the pan on the heat.

Could she cook? Yes. Was she a cook? Absolutely not. Perdy was always baffled by those people who used cooking and baking to relax. There was absolutely nothing relaxing about spending hours measuring things out, only to have the cake deflate in the middle. She wiggled her bare toes, finding solace in the cool tiles beneath her bare feet as she added a pinch of salt and pepper and the secret Bloom ingredient, chili flakes before she looked up at him sharply.

The vegetables sizzled as Perdita held the wooden spoon limply between her long fingers, momentarily stunned into silence. "I don't," the tall brunette answered, once her brain kicked back into gear. "I was just going to pick them out like I normally do," she told Torrence, adding in a sprinkling of ground ginger. For a man who didn't cook, he sure did have a lot of spices laying around.

She dropped her gaze to the wok as she stirred, wondering how and why he'd found that out. Had he seen her slyly remove the mushrooms from her risotto whenever they went out for Italian food? It might also be the reason why Perdita knew that Torrence loved shepherd's pie, not getting out of bed before 11AM and cracking his knuckles when he got bored - they were simply too familiar with each other.

Perdita moved around the kitchen with ease, standing on her tiptoes as she opened a couple of cupboards and shifted things around curiously. Not coming across rice noodles like she would normally use, she found an opened packet of spaghetti and decided that it would work just as well. In the pasta went, softening almost instantly with the heat. "There's bugger all in your fridge," Perdita informed Torrence. "So we're going vegetarian tonight," she announced as she chewed on a slice of carrot and then picked up the bottle of vodka and took a swig, stirring the food with her right hand. "Where are your plates?"

"Why don't you just get your nipple pierced while you're at it," he added in. Hell, if she was going to joke and kid, he might as well add something to the list he'd like to see. But the way she cleared her throat before disappearing into the kitchen made him aware of how off they seemed to be. Was it just because they were here in his flat or was this remnants of their earlier argument. He scrubbed a hand over his face, sucking in a breath as he inadvertently touched some of the cuts he hadn't wanted her to heal, prickles of pain radiating before he followed her out.

Smart, she had announced. It made him wonder who was the better cook. He probably had the better technique given his skill with potions ingredients, but he had very low interest in cooking and he just didn't know how much cooking she did. They had shared meals plenty of times, but making meals together, rarely. "I can be, sometimes," he admitted with a tired half-smile.

Before long the sizzle and steam filled the room and the smell made his stomach grumble loudly. Torr rubbed at it as he watched her poke around the stuff in the pan and add seasoning. He didn't even know he had seasoning. Torr nodded as she mentioned picking out the mushrooms. For some reason, he thought of making her a roast, sans mushrooms, but that was quickly dismissed. The idea of going to a wedding with her seemed like a lot, he was sure cooking dinner would send the wrong message too.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, his voice carrying over the slap of the cupboards she was opening and shutting, moving systematically around his kitchen. She swung around his pasta and he perked his brows before he nodded. Perdy was literally making a meal out of shit all he had in his kitchen like a fucking miracle. He was getting hungrier by the second. "I'll make sure to be well-stocked the next time you drop by to make me dinner in the middle of the night," he said deadpan before he slid off the stool, moving around her to grab some plates after she asked.

He set a couple down and found two clean forks and then just because he was feeling fucking classy, he grabbed two cloth napkins that he didn't have memory of using before now and slapped them on the counter. "Want a drink?" he asked her, coming up behind her to look down at the wok, his mouth watering. He grabbed her hand and moved it under his to make her scoop up a piece of broccoli and raised it to where he stood just behind her, blowing on it for a few seconds before he bit it off the spoon, burning his tongue in the process, but it was fine. And it was good. "I'm hungry," he told her as he nudged the plates toward her.

"I'm thinking about it!" Perdita called from the kitchen as she tucked her damp hair behind her ears, preoccupied. "I've heard good things," she went on conversationally, mainly things about heightened sensitivity and whatnot. The only thing she had pierced were her earlobes. She'd once toyed with the idea of perhaps getting her cartilage done before her mother caught wind of it and freaked out. The image of Ella's face upon finding out that her daughter might have an intimate piercing made her smirk, only to have it widen as his comment.

"Sometimes," Perdita agreed with a curt nod, flicking her eyes up to Torrence's briefly before away.  Torrence was clever. He could hold an intelligent conversation if he stopped being a big baby and taking everything she had to say as a personal attack. Oh sure, they didn't sit around discussing Plato or anything but he definitely wasn't stupid.

"Inspiration," she answered mildly and with a quick smile. Perdita was also covertly snooping around his flat. Perdy didn't really know much about the flat - did he have any knick knacks or keepsakes? Photos of a family she'd never get to meet? They always usually came to her place, never here. She didn't know Dublin too well, except for the main shopping streets and she'd once had coffee on the banks of the Liffey. Torrence hadn't once offered to show her around or let her see his favourite places. Probably because he thought she was asking too much of him, the same as his overreaction to the wedding invitation. She'd decided it was just easier not to push things anymore. "Giving up" wasn't the correct phrase to use, it was more like...accepting her fate.

Despite that, she let out a genuine snort of laughter. "There's more of a chance of you going to the ballet and liking it than there is of me doing this again for you," Perdita said smoothly as he went on the hunt for tableware. The cloth (not paper) napkins caught her eye and she blinked. "You're really spoiling me," she joked as she nodded to the napkins. "Next you'll be breaking out the good forks."

Did she want a drink? "Yes," she answered quickly, sounding relieved, before she felt Torrence behind her. Keeping still, she let him move her hand and she twisted to glance over her shoulder at him. At  least he hadn't spat the food out.

Her smile softened as she shifted her weight to her left hip. "You're impatient," she corrected him blithely as she gently tugged the spoon from his grip. There was a moment of stillness between them in the quiet of the kitchen, the city outside of the four walls seemingly miles and miles away. Perdita leaned towards him and placed a very gentle kiss on the left corner of his mouth, the only area of his face that didn't look painful, before turning back around so she could dole up the weird hybrid of stir fried vegetable pasta.

Picking up a plate, she turned around to face him once more  as she dug her fork in to try a mouthful. Skeptically, she chewed but soon decided she liked it. "Before it gets cold," she told Torrence as she held it out to him.

Torr watched her as she laughed, noticing the ways her eyes crinkled at the corners and the way the sound inspired an echoing smile from him. He simply shook his head at her idea of him at the ballet was more likely than her cooking dinner, and yet his reaction was that he naturally wanted to prove her wrong. "We'll see," he said with a one-shouldered shrug before he rolled his eyes. "Only one set of forks here, sorry," he added even though he wasn't at all. He didn't care about that kind of shit. Unless it was potions related really. He did have multiple sets of knifes for cutting up ingredients, but that was work-related and therefore, almost boring.

"Sadly, I don't have champagne," he said, mentioning her drink of choice, but not sad about it at all. It's not like he had expected her to drop by and probably wouldn't have gotten any even if he had expected her. Or perhaps he would just to see that surprised look on her face. "Vodka... or whiskey?" he asked surveying what he had. Again, something else that needed a restocking, but bliss was his usual go to at this time of night.

Torr made a sound of agreement at her correction. Hungry, impatient, same thing, he thought as he finished chewing. When she came closer and placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth, but it was done with such tenderness that Torr stilled. She was moving away a second later, but it was like he was still frozen, his heart clanging in his chest like someone rattling a locked cage.

He was still trying to sort out the why of that feeling when she distracted him with a plate. Flipping the fork between his fingers, he started to dig in. It was too hot and it burned his tongue and she was right in saying he was impatient because he didn't wait for it to cool, but it was delicious. "You're hired," he said around a mouthful of food, leaning against the counter as he ate standing there beside her, not even bothering to sit down.

Earlier, if someone told him she would be here cooking him dinner in the middle of the night after a big fight earlier, he would have laughed.

Then he came closer to her and started stealing bits off her plate too.

"Oooh," Perdita cooed, eyes sparkling. She didn't know what she liked more; a threat or a promise, especially when it came to Torrence. "You flirt," she teased with an easy smile. She wasn't sure if Torr knew how deeply her love of the arts ran. Whether it was ballet or theatre, opera or galleries, she had a soft spot. Catching his eye, she offered him a quick smile before looking down at the pasta, just as her head jerked upwards quickly.

"I beg your pardon?" She announced, blinking three times in rapid succession. Her eyebrows came down to furrow as her full lips turned down to form a frown.  "You don't own salad or fish forks?" She asked him, trying her hardest to mask her horror. That meant he didn't have dessert forks, either. "Oof," she commented with wide eyes, a hand on her heart as though she'd suffered something traumatic. "I won't be able to sleep tonight," she teased lightly.

But he didn't have champagne and she smiled. "I'm not coming back here again, then," she remarked, stretching her toes out against her cool tiled floor. Perdita wasn't really in the mood for champagne but she would like something else. "Vodka, please," she decided. Something smooth that she didn't have to think about. She would actually have loved a cup of tea instead but she daren't ask.

She was tired or being mad, she just wanted to be close to him, at least for a little while until she inevitably outstayed her welcome but she did look smug as Torrence burned himself on the food. "Told you so," she chided him with a smile before using her fork to expertly swirl the pasta around the utensil and eat one-handed.

"What's the rate of pay like?" Perdy asked sweetly, obviously kidding as she glanced at him briefly. The silence that fell between them was comfortable. They didn't always need to fill it. The pasta was good. If Perdita was being critical, it could have used some parmesan cheese and a bit more black pepper but she wasn't going to tell him that.

She was happy to eat, just thankful that their earlier fight seemed to have been forgotten but she let out a noise of irritation. "Oi," the tall brunette exclaimed as she twisted, trying to maneuver her plate of food out of his reach with a laugh. "Do that again and I'll punch you in your good eye," she threatened as she rudely bumped her hip against his before she relented and held out the plate.

Things were so easy at that moment. Relaxed, companionable, comfortable. In some dim recess of her mind, alarm bells were ringing. From her making him dinner, to showing up at his home, then taking a bath and the chaste kiss some moments ago, she liked it but she didn't think she deserved it. Any of this, any sort of happiness. Perdita wasn't a great person. She was spoiled and flaky. She lied, she cheated, she was disrespectful. There was always something holding her back. There was just enough trepidation to keep her in line.

He grinned at her melodrama over the missing forks. "I don't even think I have a full matching set of plates," he drawled, wondering if that would be considered a crime to her too. "And yes, you will," he added easily at her comment of not coming back. It was weird, that feeling. He normally didn't like any woman staying in his space for too long and he was starting to worry about why he didn't feel that familiar need yet. It was unsettling.

He moved around to pour her a glass, sliding it against the countertop a few minutes later as he sipped at his own. "Lousy, but it comes with good perks," he said against the rim of the glass as he gazed at her over it. He could never be sure of exactly what it was, but there was this pull towards Perdy, automatic, ever-present. And no matter how tired he was, he felt it and as usual, he wanted more even if he knew it was dangerous.

It didn't stop him from moving closer, complaining with a "Perdy" as she twisted away from him and then grinning as she gave in and he snuck another bite off her plate. And then another, realizing he was hungrier than he thought. He finished what was on her plate and then snagged a banana that was almost past its prime and peeled it quickly. The carbs would do him good.

"Tired?" he asked after a beat as he bit into the banana and glanced over at her.

In a show of despair, Perdita covered her eyes with a groan. No matching sets of anything. Dropping her hand, she placed it instead on her heart, as though Torrence's revelation had mortally wounded her. "What do you do when you have people over?" She asked, eyes wide. He had plenty of glassware. Maybe his friends only came over for drinks. Or they didn't come over at all.

Catching his eye, she gave him a quick smile and a shrug. He knew it and she knew it. They were always destined to be in each other's orbit, no matter how they fought against it. "We'll see," Perdita answered primly, knowing full well she would be back. She liked Torrence's flat, funnily enough. Was it her style? Not exactly but it suited him perfectly.

She drank the vodka as he slung it her way and she tried her best to fight the urge to swallow it like a shot but she laughed. Torr had a point. There had been holidays and gifts and great sex but a frustrating lack of actual intimacy. She tilted her head and frowned, as though weighing up her options. "Deal," she replied. "Do I need to sign a contract?" Perdita asked sweetly before rolling her eyes in jest. She'd decided to just stop pushing for anything more. Tonight's events had been evident of what happened when she did.

With her eyebrows arched, she shook her head, a soft smile curving her lips as she let Torrence finish off the food. Whatever hunger Perdy had been suffering from had melted away, replaced quickly by tiredness so deep, it was in her bones. She eyed the banana, then flicked her eyes up to his face, inches away from making a rude joke but deciding against it as she nodded.

"Exhausted," she replied as she brushed past him with the dishes before politely placing them into the sink, deciding to wash them before she left because Perdy was nothing if not a great house guest. She rubbed the heel of her left hand against her eye, her body begging for sleep and her shoulders slumped. She offered Torrence a quick smile as she padded towards his bedroom, her borrowed tee shirt swishing in her wake.

She didn't turn any lights on but she didn't think she needed to. Perdy knew where everything was, from the huge bed to the rug and the chairs. She flopped backwards onto the mattress, letting out a gentle sigh of pleasure as she sank into it, not bothering to burrow herself under the covers as she usually did. Her eyes closed despite her brain still whirring and without meaning to, her hand slid across the bed until it found his.

What do you do when you have people over? Torr smiled slowly, his cobalt blue eyes meeting hers with lazy intention. He could think of a few things he did when 'people' came over. And nothing had to do with the fucking plates. "I have other ways of entertaining, Red." But there was no spice to his comment, it lacked his usual gleam of mischief. He felt bone-tired so even their usual level of banter made him close to the edge.

Even her prim 'we'll see' grated at his nerves and he fought against his impatience because a part of him didn't want to push her away again. It had been unexpected to have her show up, but it was almost better than being blissed out of his mind. Shit. What the fuck was he thinking. He knew better and yet he couldn't make himself stop or make her leave or stop.. whatever this was between them. "Great, I'll draw up the paperwork and get a fucking notary," he told her, a ghost of a smile on his face. He couldn't help but wonder why she had even bothered to come back.

But then she was brushing past him, his fingers reaching out to the feel the fabric of his shirt she was wearing, tracking her as she moved towards his bedroom. His feet followed on their own accord.

It was dark in his room. He could see just the dark outline of her as she moved in his space, the silhouette of her on his bed as he hung near the door frame, battling with himself. As usual, he had no self-discipline so he was stretching out on his back beside her a second later. It felt so fucking good to be horizontal, the coolness of the sheets against his skin. He inhaled deeply, feeling like breath had never been so deep. He didn't know how he could feel both like sleep was so far away and also like he could be out in the next second. Normally he would be all over her by now except..

He felt her hand brushing against his fingers and he stilled, his mind whirring. Then he clutched her hand in his as he stared unseeing up at the ceiling, a million words on his tongue but he was reluctant to give voice to any of them.

Perdita laughed, properly this time. Loud and with a snort, the sound filling up the otherwise silent room as she clapped a hand over her mouth. Of course he'd say that. She should have known. With a good natured roll of her eyes, she offered Torrence a smirk and a shake of her head. It made sense. She didn't think any of the other people he was "entertaining" stayed for breakfast. Maybe it was the vodka or perhaps her tiredness but she felt nice. Unguarded. And probably delusional.

Perdy was still laughing as she passed Torrence. "You can borrow one of mine," she stated, the smile clear in her voice, clearly kidding but pleased that he was, too. The initial awkwardness had dimmed into something more comfortable.

She didn't open her eyes as he slid into bed next to her, enjoying the feeling of clean sheets and a comfortable mattress. Perdita was drained. None of this was healthy but she couldn't stop. Torrence was the one who took bliss but she was the one who was unable to kick this unhealthy habit.

But her eyes did open when she felt Torr's fingers close around hers. She turned her head slightly to look at him and chewed on her lower lip. He wasn't looking at her but he didn't need to; she knew every plane and curve of his face by now. Instead, she squeezed his hand gently out of compulsion before she turned on to her side, face against the pillow and their fingers still entwined. The silence that fell on them was comfortable. She didn't want to ruin it but she had to say it.

"Why did you say no?" Perdy asked softly, shifting on the mattress to get more comfortable. She'd asked the question but she already knew the answer. It was intense, going anywhere with someone publicly. There would be introductions and questions and eyes would be on them all night. Now that she'd processed the initial anger, she could see Torr's hesitation and she completely understood. In fact, she wasn't sure she wanted to attend any more.

"I'm not mad," Perdy began softly and that was true as her eyes searched the side of his face, her thumb making a gentle pass over the back of his knuckles . "I just wanted to understand what was going on."

He could feel rather than see her turn her head to look at him and he was grateful the darkness was between them. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was in her gaze. Torr knew that he shouldn't have asked her to stay, but at the time, even now, he didn't want her to go. It was a weakness after a long day that he couldn't say no to.

As she shifted, he could feel the bed dipping as she neared and it was both too close and too faraway. Wearing too many clothes and not enough. Fuck, this was a bad idea. But he was also exhausted. He felt like he could slip into sleep at any moment and yet he found his mind whirring at the same time. His brain and his body were warring, damn it all to hell.

He was debating if he really should go get some bliss to help knock him out and was halfway considering it when he heard her question. He exhaled heavily, his breath a short huff as he pulled his hand away from hers to scrub both hands over his face. "Red," he said, almost a curse, half a warning. "I don't want to fucking talk about it." He rubbed at his eyes, the heels of his palms pressing against his sockets so hard he saw shapes beneath his lids as the familiar anger and irritation swam up to meet up, dragging with it more of that exhaustion. He didn't have the bite or fight he did earlier though.

That tone in her voice, the softness, the understanding lilt, made him want to run. He pressed his heels harder against his eyes, pain starting to trickle in before he slowly let out another breath. He could deal with her anger and her insults much better than .. whatever the hell this was. His skills were squarely in the anger and annoyance department so what the fuck did she expect him to say to that? The truth?

"You know how it is with my family, our families, if we go together," he found himself saying anyway, still wanting to punch himself in the throat for even attempting to explain himself. Yet the words kept coming. "They'll have the marriage invites designed next week and no offense, love, but I'm not marrying anyone and I don't want to deal with all that fucking bullshit again. I don't even know your cousin." Merlin, where was the bliss. He was going to take enough so that another embarrassing word never came out of his mouth again.

With Torrence's hand removed from hers, a chill settled over her and she frowned at him in the dark. She knew that look. It was the one he used when she got too close or pushed too far. This always happened. They could never have a conversation without one (or both) of them getting upset. "Okay," Perdita replied simply as she moved to sit flat on her back, giving him space, her eyes staring at the ceiling with her hands folded politely on her stomach. Like fuck would she try again.

She daren't look at him and so, she tilted her chin up as she watched the shapes on the ceiling, from the street lamps outside. It was dark and quiet, a hush, and Perdita took that as her cue to leave. Torrence had asked her to stay but she'd always known that as soon as he was asleep, she'd be sneaking out of the front door; it was just easier. For them both.

Exhaling slowly, Perdy closed her eyes and was still for a moment, one eye opening as he began to speak. Her full lips turned to form a frown. "You haven't met my family," she reminded him gently, momentarily nettled by his sweeping statement. She opened her mouth to argue before she fell silent. Everything made sense now. Perhaps his mother had been firing fiancees and girlfriends at him for years, making matches, gently coercing him into settling down. That was why he made bad choices and made the choice to leave before he got left.

Was that why Torr was so cagey? He thought them being together would be beneficial to everyone but them. He couldn't see her face but Perdita nodded in acknowledgement. They'd be the gossip of the summer. Two influential families, forever joined. Perdita wrinkled her nose at the idea. Still, they could have gone as friends.

"Of course not," she added softly, the corner of her mouth lifting to smirk in the darkness before she allowed herself to roll her eyes. "None taken. The idea of being a wife makes me feel physically sick," Perdita explained cheerfully before she turned her head to look at him sharply. "Again?" She echoed, her eyebrows furrowed at Torrence's statement. The phrase once bitten, twice shy came to mind.

"Isabella," Perdy said as he complained about not knowing her cousin. The tall brunette shrugged. "You wouldn't have gone, even if you did know her." Her tone was light and even, not accusatory. It just made her sad. "I asked you because if I hadn't and you found out that I'd attended with someone else, you'd do that thing you do," she continued vaguely as she wiggled her fingers before letting them drop back to her torso gently.

"The one where you get all jealous and your chest puffs up? Your eyes get darker, too," she mused as she rolled over so her back was to him, her hair spreading out on the pillow between them like a halo.

Okay, she had said and he didn't even have to look at her to know he hated that one tiny, inoffensive word. She wasn't even fighting him about it now like she had earlier and somehow that was worse... ? What the fuck was going on with him. He pressed his fingertips now instead of his palms against his eyes. Maybe if he pushed his eyeballs to the back of his skull, he wouldn't have to think about this anymore.

"You don't think I know what your family is like?" he found himself throwing out instead, raging against the gentleness he heard in her tone even though he didn't have the energy left to fight. Apparently, even his mind was rebelling against itself: too tired to fight and yet still fighting. Fuck it was a wonder why Red had come back at all.

At least they agreed on one thing: never marrying. He wasn't sure if she was being patronizing, but he wasn't kidding. And it wasn't one of those things that would change either when he met 'the one'. He didn't believe in it and he especially didn't imagine he'd be any better off in one. To hell with that.

He shrugged at her on the mark statement. No, he wouldn't have. He couldn't even remember her cousin's name. Why would he care about her wedding? But he did see her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers in the dark at him, his gaze narrowing. "What thing?" he asked, shortly followed by, "I don't have a thing." Then she accurately described the thing he did every time he got jealous and he hated himself for being that easy to read.

And he especially hated how she turned away from him. He turned his head on his pillow, saying nothing, barely able to see the difference between her dark hair and the dark pillowcase she laid on. He couldn't work out why his chest felt so tight and for the life of him, couldn't understand why she was here at all. And yet, she stayed. She was giving him her back, but she was here.

Torr was moving a moment later, sliding across the sheets to wrap himself around her, his chin resting on her shoulder, his face turned into her neck to breath her in. He was tired and he was tired of fighting and he was tired of seeing that look of disappointment on her face even though he should have been used to it by now. It just felt worse when it came from her. It was a good thing, he knew that, because it meant she didn't expect too much from him and that in turn meant she wouldn't be upset when he didn't live up to whatever she had dreamed up. But what the fuck was with him hating that look on her face now? Shit, his feeling weren't making sense and yet being closer did make it a little better.

His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper when he spoke after a while. "I hate that shit, Perdy, and I don't want to deal with it. What if we go away to Greece instead? Or I'll take you back to Singapore?" Either would be better than the wedding and there were some surfaces in his Singapore apartment they had yet to take advantage of...

Perdita sighed shortly, the exhale ruffling the hair that fell across her left eye. She shrugged. "Dunno," she answered vaguely, the tiredness she felt seeping in around the edges and forcing her to use a contraction. The horror. "It's different for you," Perdy went on. "Easier," she frowned. "You have siblings and umpteen cousins who have children. Your family name is going to live on forever," she paused and blinked. "It's just me and my dickhead brother, neither of us is in any position to birth an heir to the Bloom fortune. The pressure's off you." Or so she thought.

Her mother wasn't pushing too hard, at least, not yet but Perdita wasn't stupid. Would it really be such a travesty to be unwed at the age of thirty? She had time before she hit that milestone but she'd seen the glances. And her freedom was running out.

She scratched her nose. "You do," Perdita corrected him gently. "And you get all frowny between your eyebrows. Then you act like you don't care and then you throw a wobbler," she told Torrence mildly, amused. Making him jealous was always a thrill but she'd noticed lately that he seemed to be getting increasingly angrier when she told the truth, so she'd started doing that instead.

Turning her back was rude but it gave her a moment to think. Her eyes were open as she curled up, making herself comfortable in the bed but Torrence's arms around her was a shock. Perdita let out a soft noise of agreement as he crowded her space, her eyes closing but she was slow to respond. She shifted, half tempted to shrug him away from her but her body went soft and pliant against his.  She crossed an arm over her chest so her fingers touched Torrence's elbow and she let her fingertips trace slowly up and down his forearm before she smiled.

"You're going to have to one day," Perdy warned him softly, wriggling in the sheets as she tilted her head to allow him better access to her skin. "Hate to break it to you," she mumbled. Torrence was going to have to compromise some day. He did have a heart and he was an oddly gentle soul...somewhere deep inside. The problem was that Perdita wasn't the person who was able to get through.

He was jealous and possessive and rude and arrogant and snippy and aggressive but he was also generous and protective and caring and funny. Suddenly, she snorted with laughter. Singapore was a sacred place. It had been quite possibly the best birthday she'd ever had. She'd loved every minute and Torr had been so good to her but that was in the past. She didn't want to visit the city again. Her memory of it was perfect and she didn't want to ruin anything. It was unfair of him to dangle it in front of her like that.

"I can't," she began before she sighed, wanting nothing more than to rescind her acceptance of Isabella's invitation. "I'd like that," she assured him, "I love Greece," she explained simply. She liked having Torrence there, too. Filling their days with lounging by the pool, sleeping in the sun, enjoying each other for hours on end in their own little world, miles away from everyone. "Another time maybe," she offered. "I can't get out of the wedding. I'm a bridesmaid."

He heard the tiredness in her voice, the exhaustion that was perhaps more than just surface level from the daily grind, and he didn't like the idea that he felt worried by it. Worried that she might wise up and stop wasting her time on him. He held her a little tighter as those thoughts chased around inside his mind as she talked about her family.

Torr knew that she was trying to explain her family and the why of it, why he was luckier than her, but the conversation made his skin feel like it was tight to his bones. Perdy with kids? Fuck, he couldn't imagine it because the idea of her having a family with someone else made him want to rage all over again because he sure as hell wasn't having kids or getting married or any of that shit. Her words had the opposite effect on him than she might think. Or maybe she was trying to break it off once and for all and as much as he wanted that for her on one hand because she deserved better, he also hated the idea down to the core.

"Tell your dickhead brother to get it together then," he said instead, acknowledging he was (half) listening, but also deflecting. If she tried to steer this into asking about his plans for a family or marriage, he would take enough bliss that he wouldn't even be able to say his own name.

You're going to have to one day. Torr stubbornly said, "No, I won't," into her hair, his lips against her skin in his favorite spot as her scent wrapped around him and he felt something in his chest loosen. He felt the vibration of her snort and laughter before he heard the sound and he squeezed his arms infinitesimally. "What's funny?" he asked warily.

His offer of escape was quickly turned down and he hated the disappointment he felt. But maybe.. "Greece," he repeated again, leaving a soft kiss on her neck. "We'll go to Greece, they won't miss you at the wedding. Another one of your cousins can fill in. Come to Greece with me, Red," his tone was low, but there a thread of seriousness to it. He would take her right now even though he was exhausted if it meant they could drop the whole wedding thing. His eyes drooped with tiredness at the corners, but he had an idea that he thought might work on her.

He leaned in and bite her neck in the spot she liked so much, lightly, teasing, before he kissed the spot. "You know you want to say yes, Perdy."

Her eyes were open as Torrence's arms tightened around her, watching the window and finding the sound of distant Muggle traffic trundling by soothing. "Not happening," she told him with a roll of her eyes that he wouldn't be able to see. "He's not ready," she frowned. "He'll never be ready. He thinks he's a playboy, splashing his cash on girls and blackjack but he doesn't have a fucking clue how to run a company." But I do, she thought darkly. It was Sebastian's job to produce the perfect child. Not hers.

Annoyed and irritated, Torr's arms made her eyes close as she felt instant relief. She hadn't made a point to speak about her family or her personal life with him and she didn't want to start now. He already knew too much about her. Like how she took her coffee or when her birthday was or that she was afraid of thunderstorms. They were silly, insignificant details that didn't matter but she thought they did.

"Mhmm," came the sleepy but sarcastic remark as she turned her head to press her face into the plush pillow before she laughed again. "Nothing," she told Torrence gently. "I was just thinking about how messy everything is." It didn't used to be this way. When they first started, it was purely physical. They saw each other once a week and that was it. But then things had changed. They saw each other more often, they went out together, they fell into an easy rhythm. Perdita hadn't seen it coming. Her feelings had morphed into something more intense while his stayed the same. And that was why they were at this stalemate.

Her neck was kissed and she relaxed. Perdita wriggled to get even closer to Torrence, huddling down beneath the duvet cover and she stilled. She didn't say anything as he spoke. He was telling her everything she wanted to hear and she swallowed anxiously.

"It's not that easy," she told him in a whisper, not sounding convinced, even to her own ears. Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to ditch the wedding. She didn't even fucking want to go. It would be boring if he wasn't there, too. Perdita was struggling. Her head and heart were at war. She wanted nothing more than to just leave everything and go to Greece with him. Or Portofino, Rome, Paris, anywhere but she was hesitant.

She let out a noise of frustration that soon turned into a soft sigh of pleasure at his touch. She wanted to, so badly, but it wasn't that simple. She couldn't keep doing this. She couldn't keep dropping everything to go running to him, especially not when he wouldn't do the same for her. Her pretty face twisted in concern as she tried to sort out her thoughts. That all stopped, whenever, when he called her by her name.

"Torr," she breathed out as she bit her lip. Perdita nodded. Of course she wanted to say yes but she needed to make it clear that they couldn't keep doing this. "I can't," she told him again, distress clear on her face and in her tone. "Can you meet me afterwards?" She asked Torrence, her voice soft and unsure as she began to fidget, anxious and upset at herself. "We can still go," she offered. It wouldn't be the same but she couldn't drop out. Her fingers stroked along his arm, pausing for her index finger to make slow, concentric circles on his skin. She hoped this wasn't a now-or-never deal.