EVIE
I want your midnights
Evie can smell acquiescence from a mile away with Sam. He so often bows to her strong will and her bitter outbursts that she has developed a hawklike focus for when he evades such confrontations. Instead of calling him out this time, she lets it slip by. Oh, she knows exactly how Sam's anxiety-ridden mind operates. Of course he would think the Gods would have nothing better to do than keep a sharp, judging eye upon him. Evie? Evie has no such delusions. Even just by sitting next to him, she has surely shrouded him in the vicinity of her void. The Gods don't care, at least not about her.
Sam's teasing is a shock, and Evie can't quite conceal it as she turns her astounded smile his way. It's a little sharp at the edges, still clinging to age-old mockery, but even the sly narrowing of her eyes can't conceal her amusement. He's finally growing a bit of a backbone. Maybe distance didn't make the heart grow fonder, maybe it just made it stronger.
"Hold your tongue, Samuel Wordsworth," she declares a tad too loudly for the Temple, one hand thrown dramatically at her heart. "I know you're the real lady of the two of us, but don't think I'll let such insults go unpunished," she jests, shoving her shoulder over at Sam's. It's not nearly as rude as she is used to being with him, but her heart is tired and the rift between them seems...smaller, here. Perhaps if she lets her shoulder linger against his for a moment, well...hopefully he won't notice.
His more serious words drop the small smile lingering at her lips. It had always been a tightrope walk between hating and loving Sam. Hating him for his naivety, his blindness, his self-centered woe-is-me ways. Loving him for his soft soul, his forgiveness, the fact that he would offer her this despite their history.
A small hiccup is the forewarning to the tears that prickle at her eyes, and she fiercely looks up at the ceiling to keep them contained. "You idiot, as if you could understand my problems," she mumbles, scarcely even bothering to dictate the words with how empty they feel. Once she has taken a few deep breaths and contained her sudden tears, she turns and brushes her hair behind her ear to better gaze upon him with her red-rimmed eyes. "Thank you," she says softly instead as if the volume would somehow erase the gravity of the words. "I...I'm not ready to talk about it. I don't think I ever can. But y'know...right back at you and all that," Evie mutters, losing her confidence halfway through and falling victim to her own awkward feelings. But the offer is there - whatever is on his mind, she would listen as well.
Even if just being at his side is enough for now.
