Draws! [ is Kate's immediate-- and again, laughing-- protest. Like any other possibility never occurred to her until just now. ] I said when he draws you. Not-- I would bet you so much money that he will just actually draw you and not have sex with you.
[ Wait for it. ]
But what if it was my kind of thing? I mean I don't think it is, but is it your kind of thing?
[ Kate hangs up. Not that it's necessarily easy to tell. She just doesn't respond, and then after a little while there's a knock on Johanna's door. She doesn't bother with preambles. ]
Look, I don't know how to talk about this kind of thing except in context, okay?
[ Kate is rolling her eyes and reaching out to set her hand on the front of Johanna's shoulder. She doesn't push hard, enough to make it clear she'd like to come in but not enough to really challenge her if Johanna doesn't feel like being steered. ]
I mean I don't know how to talk about it unless we're in bed. That kind of context. Yes, I'm weird, I know, you don't have to say it.
[Because, come on. Weird is not the word that Johanna thinks of. It's charitable toward her that Kate thinks weird is what she would choose--or perhaps it's more charitable toward Kate herself, a mild word in place of anything potentially stronger.
Johanna doesn't reach out and push back at Kate's shoulder, even though she wants to. She doesn't step back just yet, either, stubborn as ever, but levels her gaze on Kate, her eyes narrowed.]
So how do you know anything you like? You're just making mental notes the whole time? Come on, there has to be a point where you figure out how stupid that is. You just talk about it. In a conversation. Hi, I'm Johanna, and I love hair-pulling. Your turn.
[ Kate is not dumb enough or unfamiliar enough with Johanna to assume she meant she was going to say something nicer. Her eyes narrow right back and she removes her hand to throw it up into the air. ]
Oh my god. We can have a conversation, I'm not saying no to a conversation! I just want to have it inside your room and possibly without pants. Why are you making this harder?
Edited (No that was too easy sorry ) 2014-12-16 07:38 (UTC)
[She laughs in Kate's face, and it isn't nice--but it is amused.]
So I should get the answers out of you?
[Not that she's opposed to that suggestion. Nor does she sound opposed. And, rather than wait, she shoves off of the door and grabs for the beltloops of Kate's jeans, one-handed, tugging her hips forward.]
You're impossible. [ Kate complains, the roll of her eyes exasperated at that laugh. She steps forward when tugged and keeps going, into Johanna and trying to walk her backwards to the bed. This is what she was trying to do before!! God. ]
Context. [--She repeats, mimicking Kate slightly.] You can't always get what you want.
[Which is a universal truth and not a Stones reference, because the only stones in Panem are the actual rocky variety.
But still: Johanna lets herself be walked backwards. Her fingers stay hooked in her beltloop, but her other hand goes to the front of Kate's jeans, fingers working nimbly to tug open the button, pull down the zipper.]
I thought you didn't know what I wanted. [ Kate is quick with the retort, which comes with a smirk but at least no follow-up lyrics. She toes off her shoes as Johanna's calves hit the bed and slides hands down her thighs like she might pick her up and toss her back onto it. ] You can start.
Start what? Getting answers out of you? Or telling you mine?
[Fastenings undone, she hooks her other thumb into the beltloops too, tugging down with that brisk side-to-side motion that comes with shimmying the pants off of someone--but not enough to interrupt the light pressure of Kate's hands, the warmth of skin against fabric.]
Are you trying to make me feel stupid? Is that the goal here?
[ Because that is definitely not on her list, judging by the edge of irritation crept back into Kate's tone. She hooks a grip just above Johanna's knees and lifts, shoving her back and following to pull her pants undone with more force than is strictly necessary. ]
Do whichever you want, you're going to anyway.
[ But then she stops abruptly and sits back on her heels, hands lifted to dig into her hair at the back of her head, kneading once as she takes a deep breath, and then dropping to press the air, palms down in a sort of quelling gesture. ]
I'm the one making this hard, now. I've been in a shitty mood all day and I'm taking it out on you, and I'm sorry. [ She pushes back off the bed, not to leave but to kick off jeans and socks and give herself a shake before returning to kneel on the mattress. ]
[Johanna is, obviously, no stranger to mood swings. Laughing one minute and pissed off the next, she can definitely sympathize with Kate right now.
Or, well. If she was someone prone to actual sympathy, maybe she could sympathize. Her version of sympathy is a little different: it means she's laying mostly on the bed with her pants pulled half-off, staring at Kate with an air of amusement and wariness, like she's concerned that she might explode, but it would be kind of funny if she did.]
Wow. [That's mild enough, even if her gaze is a bit more cutting.] Hi. Shitty is right.
[Primly, she scoots herself up so she's actually sitting on the bed, and lifts her hips to work her pants the rest of the way off, too. Down to her underwear and wool socks and t-shirt, she raises her eyebrows at Kate.]
Maybe you should tell me who pissed in your pancakes first, because that was seriously over-dramatic. Then I'll tell you one. It can be like a game. You love games. [She quirks the corner of her mouth upwards, sort of teasing.] Hey, is that one from your list? Games?
[ Kate takes this tease with much better grace, mouth tugged into half of a smile. ] I don't know if I would've said it was a list thing level of liking. [ But now she's clearly reconsidering, thoughtful for a second before she shrugs. ] Sure, maybe. Games are fun.
It wasn't anybody, though. It was just. [ She shrugs and shakes her head, and turns to pull Johanna's socks off her feet for her (for her!). ] The ship. Realizing in a couple weeks I'll have been here for an entire year and I still haven't figured out a single fucking thing. [ Socks go on the floor and Kate's hand goes into her hair and she shakes her head again. ]
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[ Kate remains skeptical. Amused, definitely, but skeptical. She's still looking at that drawing, though. ]
It really is good. He really got you. Is he actually going to do more?
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[Said in a tone like she totally did him a favor which, come on: she did.]
And thanks. He's going to do a whole gallery. It's his new hobby.
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Do you want one?
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Yes.
Can I watch next time he draws you?
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[She is, actually, surprised. It doesn't show in her voice, and she'd never admit it, but. Whatever.]
I didn't know watching was your kind of thing.
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[ Wait for it. ]
But what if it was my kind of thing? I mean I don't think it is, but is it your kind of thing?
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[At the follow-up question, Johanna laughs.]
It can be mine. If it's your kind of thing, I'd like to know about it.
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I don't know, I've never seriously considered it before just now. Why?
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Because I'm writing an exclusive about you and I want to know. Why do you think?
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I don't want to have this conversation on the network. Forget I said anything.
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Look, I don't know how to talk about this kind of thing except in context, okay?
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[With her arms folded over her chest, Johanna leans against the doorframe, her eyes hooded and unimpressed.]
What do you mean, in context. We were having a conversation in context. I asked you if you liked to watch. Did you want a form to sign first or what.
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[ Kate is rolling her eyes and reaching out to set her hand on the front of Johanna's shoulder. She doesn't push hard, enough to make it clear she'd like to come in but not enough to really challenge her if Johanna doesn't feel like being steered. ]
I mean I don't know how to talk about it unless we're in bed. That kind of context. Yes, I'm weird, I know, you don't have to say it.
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[Because, come on. Weird is not the word that Johanna thinks of. It's charitable toward her that Kate thinks weird is what she would choose--or perhaps it's more charitable toward Kate herself, a mild word in place of anything potentially stronger.
Johanna doesn't reach out and push back at Kate's shoulder, even though she wants to. She doesn't step back just yet, either, stubborn as ever, but levels her gaze on Kate, her eyes narrowed.]
So how do you know anything you like? You're just making mental notes the whole time? Come on, there has to be a point where you figure out how stupid that is. You just talk about it. In a conversation. Hi, I'm Johanna, and I love hair-pulling. Your turn.
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Oh my god. We can have a conversation, I'm not saying no to a conversation! I just want to have it inside your room and possibly without pants. Why are you making this harder?
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So I should get the answers out of you?
[Not that she's opposed to that suggestion. Nor does she sound opposed. And, rather than wait, she shoves off of the door and grabs for the beltloops of Kate's jeans, one-handed, tugging her hips forward.]
Don't just stand there.
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That's all I've been saying. Context.
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[Which is a universal truth and not a Stones reference, because the only stones in Panem are the actual rocky variety.
But still: Johanna lets herself be walked backwards. Her fingers stay hooked in her beltloop, but her other hand goes to the front of Kate's jeans, fingers working nimbly to tug open the button, pull down the zipper.]
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[Fastenings undone, she hooks her other thumb into the beltloops too, tugging down with that brisk side-to-side motion that comes with shimmying the pants off of someone--but not enough to interrupt the light pressure of Kate's hands, the warmth of skin against fabric.]
I don't need coaxing. I'll just make you a list.
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[ Because that is definitely not on her list, judging by the edge of irritation crept back into Kate's tone. She hooks a grip just above Johanna's knees and lifts, shoving her back and following to pull her pants undone with more force than is strictly necessary. ]
Do whichever you want, you're going to anyway.
[ But then she stops abruptly and sits back on her heels, hands lifted to dig into her hair at the back of her head, kneading once as she takes a deep breath, and then dropping to press the air, palms down in a sort of quelling gesture. ]
I'm the one making this hard, now. I've been in a shitty mood all day and I'm taking it out on you, and I'm sorry. [ She pushes back off the bed, not to leave but to kick off jeans and socks and give herself a shake before returning to kneel on the mattress. ]
Okay. Hi. Tell me your list?
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Or, well. If she was someone prone to actual sympathy, maybe she could sympathize. Her version of sympathy is a little different: it means she's laying mostly on the bed with her pants pulled half-off, staring at Kate with an air of amusement and wariness, like she's concerned that she might explode, but it would be kind of funny if she did.]
Wow. [That's mild enough, even if her gaze is a bit more cutting.] Hi. Shitty is right.
[Primly, she scoots herself up so she's actually sitting on the bed, and lifts her hips to work her pants the rest of the way off, too. Down to her underwear and wool socks and t-shirt, she raises her eyebrows at Kate.]
Maybe you should tell me who pissed in your pancakes first, because that was seriously over-dramatic. Then I'll tell you one. It can be like a game. You love games. [She quirks the corner of her mouth upwards, sort of teasing.] Hey, is that one from your list? Games?
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It wasn't anybody, though. It was just. [ She shrugs and shakes her head, and turns to pull Johanna's socks off her feet for her (for her!). ] The ship. Realizing in a couple weeks I'll have been here for an entire year and I still haven't figured out a single fucking thing. [ Socks go on the floor and Kate's hand goes into her hair and she shakes her head again. ]
Anyway. Your turn.
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