[ The plan had been this: she'd go to dinner, she'd make conversation, then she'd come home and call her parents irregardless of timezones, if only to announce — definitively and with a practiced finality — that the engagement to Roger Collins was off. (Thanks but no thanks; please don't do that again.) To her credit, she manages the first two parts with a modicum of grace (though Roger might argue that the conversation had left something to be desired). When Ariadne gets home, however, she doesn't manage that phone call, just sits on the end of her bed and stares combatively at her mobile for ten minutes before getting up to wash her face and call it a night.
She takes the phone with her when she slips in under the sheets, its mute blue light illuminating her corner of the room. Thumbing through her address book she considers contacting the handful of names stored there. Miles (a disaster), Cobb (wouldn't answer), Yusuf (what time was it there, anyway?). None of them seem particularly appealing except Arthur, whom she assumes would laugh, then judge, then fail to say anything helpful (albeit in a friendly sort of way).
It's quarter to midnight when she texts Roger — not to be polite, but simply to text him. Maybe, she reasons to herself, this is just another test; but she hasn't figured out the hows or the whys. ]
SENT: 11.47PM So. Scale of 1 to 10. How bad?
[ She doesn't expect him to answer. Or if he does, be honest about it. ]
[ it's a quick response, yes, but in his mind, the night is still young. of course, roger has no idea of the nightlife in france. he hasn't been there terribly long, and his methods of communication are still limited by the translator on his phone (or even an english-french dictionary. nothing wrong with doing this old-school, after all). he's sitting at the bar of his hotel when he gets the text, and he's already answered by the time he reacts to it. a mixture of confusion (he might not be drunk quite yet, but some of the stuff's already made it up to his head), realization, and then - of course - utter and complete cockiness as he realizes that there's something compelling enough about him that she'd contact him again.
that was usually how it worked. it's good to know he's still got it.
he throws back a celebratory drink of his brandy, enough to finish it off, and then, after a beat, grabs the phone off of the counter. ]
SENT: 11:49 PM Might need a second shot to be a good judge of that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
She takes the phone with her when she slips in under the sheets, its mute blue light illuminating her corner of the room. Thumbing through her address book she considers contacting the handful of names stored there. Miles (a disaster), Cobb (wouldn't answer), Yusuf (what time was it there, anyway?). None of them seem particularly appealing except Arthur, whom she assumes would laugh, then judge, then fail to say anything helpful (albeit in a friendly sort of way).
It's quarter to midnight when she texts Roger — not to be polite, but simply to text him. Maybe, she reasons to herself, this is just another test; but she hasn't figured out the hows or the whys. ]
[ She doesn't expect him to answer. Or if he does, be honest about it. ]
no subject
Why? You worried?
[ it's a quick response, yes, but in his mind, the night is still young. of course, roger has no idea of the nightlife in france. he hasn't been there terribly long, and his methods of communication are still limited by the translator on his phone (or even an english-french dictionary. nothing wrong with doing this old-school, after all). he's sitting at the bar of his hotel when he gets the text, and he's already answered by the time he reacts to it. a mixture of confusion (he might not be drunk quite yet, but some of the stuff's already made it up to his head), realization, and then - of course - utter and complete cockiness as he realizes that there's something compelling enough about him that she'd contact him again.
that was usually how it worked. it's good to know he's still got it.
he throws back a celebratory drink of his brandy, enough to finish it off, and then, after a beat, grabs the phone off of the counter. ]
SENT: 11:49 PM
Might need a second shot to be a good judge of that.