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It seemed like a stalemate for something that made no sense. The psychometrist sighed a she kept her distance, because she had tried to reach out earlier, and was promptly denied. It spoke loudly from the ink manipulator, even if she hadn't intended it to be so. She wouldn't be the first to attempt any sort of contact again. And for it, a silence fell between them. It surprised Penny not to hear something witty out of her love's mouth.
It surprised her a little bit more to see her hand outstretched. Dark eyes focused on the palm in front of her, and then to those dark eyes that could be just as expressive as any set of clever words. She lifted her own hand, meeting Lucy in the middle of the table as her fingers curling around her hand, offering a gentle squeeze before settling in her palm.
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Briefly, Lucy let the psychometrist catch her eyes. It was its own kind of silent pleading; rarely would Lucy let the word please drop from her mouth, especially twice in one night. So she didn't, but maybe her eyes said it all. It was what made holding her gaze to hard, especially when she finally offered a little squeeze.
She took a breath then, doing her best to keep it even. She half expected to be denied, because it only seemed like fair an equal punishment given her own motives. They simmer underneath the surface like they always did, but she kept her mouth shut as her eyes turned away and she drank a little more.
The tips of her fingers brushed against her palm, like leaving fire in such a small wake.
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It would have been cruel treatment to deny her love the same way she herself had been, but it also would have been entirely fair. There was only so much willpower the psychometrist held when an offer was placed in front of her by her wife. There hadn't even been a hesitation of thought from her before she had taken her hand, and acute attention was quick to pick up the wavering breath that escaped Lucy's lips. It shook her; she felt it in her own lungs as she sucked in a slow breath.
When she lost the ink manipulator's eyes, she still stared, at least for a few more moments. The small path fingertips traced against her hand burned as if fire had set a trail to them. She felt the draw of twitch as it awoke from its slumber on her finger.
Mimicking her wife's movements, Penny drew her glass up to her lips again, already feeling the heavy alcohol content swirl in her veins.
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For Lucy, one connection was enough if she had to sit across the table from her for hours on end. Alcohol helped too, but it hardly did enough.
She was dumb enough to drag her finger across the constantly calling ink etched into her finger as a clever - or stupid - reminder of the real next level connection she was making.
"Why'd you make him babysit at home?" She asked, offering a sidelong glance quickly in tandem with her question.
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Her attention was continuously drawn to the pull of ink at her finger. The sensation was always something to get used to, it made her heart race every time. The ink manipulator truly knew how to call to Penny on every level, and it worked so well.
"Hmm?" Dark eyes looked up, eyebrows twitching upwards at the question that seemed to have an obvious answer to the Brit. "Everything is there." Food. Diapers. His crib. Never had it occurred to Penny to think to ship off her son to Michael's home. "His house isn't baby proof." Penny had spent nine months prepping to insure their home would be perfect for a child.
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When Lucy posed the question, she wondered if her wife understood it completely. Michael adored their son Lincoln to the point where he would have voluntarily done all those things if only she'd asked. She really felt the draw to roll her eyes at the idea of just how long it took to babyproof their little place.
Her fingers curled around the hand at the table, offering it a fast squeeze that she held onto.
"So you're telling me I'm actually going to have dinner here." Lucy denoted, as if the two concepts met together so seamlessly.
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It had taken a moment to realize the connection between her first question and her second one. The squeeze of her hand had Penny's grip tightening on instinct, eyes growing wide as she recognized the repercussions of her decision to have Michael look after their son at home. Lips pursed into a thin, hardened line. She wasn't one to admit to a mistake, and though she didn't verbalize it, the look on her face must have given it away.
Slowly, her tongue breached the line of her lips, allowing them to part as she cleared her throat. "There's a hotel not far from here." Her eyes flicked downwards briefly, before she squeezed the ink manipulator's hand in return.
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Realisation filtered into her eyes and Lucy caught it almost instantly. Penny looked practically unhappy, and the ink manipulator couldn't help but exhale a dry laugh at the fact. But she stopped when her eyes dropped to her mouth. There, she was likely caught blatantly staring.
She very nearly missed the words given to her. It took a second or so for her to drag her eyes up. "What?" She asked, and then her mind kicked into gear. The recognition of the past words she wouldn't dare ask her to repeat was quick after that.
"You're not gonna let him look after Link overnight." Lucy reasoned, believing she shut the entire point down in a single sentence.
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Without the ability to catch the Australian's gaze, it was easier to say. The moment she looked up, however, Penny felt that initial struggle to breathe again. The air halted in her lungs, burning as it remained stagnant for a few extra moments. She knew the ink manipulator caught her words, and she had no intention on repeating them. Instead, her lips pursed together into a tight, thin line.
And it was then that the proposal was dismissed. Her eyebrows shot upward, and she blinked, dark eyes growing wide as she focused back on her wife. "What better am I to our son if I'm intoxicated?" Penny asked honestly, holding the glass to her lips to take another sip of the drink.
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Things seemed to piece together slowly in Lucy's mind. Really, Penny should have known that she wasn't good at catching on quickly. She stared at her love from across the table as she wielded that martini like a weapon against her. That slightest hit of encouragement to drink more wasn't like her at all. But did it have a means to an end?
Dark eyes went a little wide, and her elbow pressed to the table as she pointed at her. "You fucking planned this, didn't you." Michael was at their house with all of Lincoln's things. Penny was on the great road to getting trolleyed, likely to ease her nerves about it.
"You already fucking booked it."
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Penny waited, because at certain times she could be surprisingly patient, especially when it came to allowing Lucy to put together certain pieces of a puzzle laid out for her. Really, she wasn't sure if the ink manipulator would pick up on it at all - and she would be happy to let events fall through as if they had never been meticulously planned in the first place.
But here it was. A curse and a statement. No, make that two curses and statements. The liquid that burned down her throat did do everything to ease any possible anxiety of leaving their son for a night. She even let out a laugh, or as close of a laugh as Penny could.
"It's within walking distance."
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It was so incredibly easy for Penny to make Lucy feel like an idiot. When the idea finally formed itself in her mind, the accusing look she was giving her wife could kill anyone else. She didn't have to look smug for the ink manipulator to know she was feeling smug.
As her jaw dropped, she wanted to ask a myriad of questions. She wanted to know why Penny didn't tell her in the first place. She wanted to know what made this ridiculous dance so important. Did she really have any doubt that the Australian would follow her plan?
"You fuck." She called her, reaching for the glass on her side to finally take a drink.
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Penny didn't do surprises well, but there was the humor that came along with throwing Lucy for a loop. She was often the expert at throwing Penny off guard. On the rare occasion that Penny could take advantage of a moment, she would absolutely take it. Because the reaction given was absolutely worth it. Humor lit her eyes up as they followed the hand that reached for the glass, watching how the Australian finally took a drink of the alcohol she swore would mess her up.
"Language." Penny finally stepped in, given that it was the ink manipulator's third strike within a series of seconds, but the alcohol in her system already made it hard to keep pursed lips. The smile crept up too easily, given those who knew Penny at all.
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It wasn't hard to see the way Penny thought this was funny. Of course she did. It was spite that made Lucy drink the spirit she didn't like to deal with. The way it burned had no warmth. No substance for her. She wasn't cringing because it hurt, she was cringing because she didn't like it. And likely because she drank it like a shot, not something to savour.
And then Penny called out her language. Up until now, she thought she was doing pretty well. Raised eyebrows dragged her attention from the now empty dumb shaped glass in front of her.
"Oh, soz, don't you wanna anymore?"
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And like that, the clear liquid was completely gone from the glass in front of her. It seemed very obvious why gin didn't suit the Australian then, because she downed it all in one go. The effects would likely wear in more quickly than not. Like a trade, Penny reached for the bottle that had been placed down for her, and she pressed it to her lips as the hoppy liquid immediately made her clench her jaw.
She thought it was obvious that she gave the ink manipulator enough curses for one night. Apparently it wasn't so with the response she was offered. The Brit let out a harsh sigh. "Do you really believe that is a valid question?" Because the answer was obvious.
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