Under normal circumstances, Elfangor would have be paying more attention to surveying the food. And probably would have brought some "special" brownies to sneak in amongst the treats laid out, like he had the last time there had been a party. (The last time Jessica had disappeared.)
But this time felt different. It was just a feeling, really; he had no evidence to base this feeling off of. But his gut still insistently told him that this time it's different, what if she doesn't come back, how will Matt--?
But he forced himself not to think about that. He knew Matt was already thinking about that, and he couldn't stand to add to those oppressive thoughts. No, he needed to be distracted. They both did. That was primarily why he was wearing those pants, and a glance darted to Matt's still-tousled hair (he's certain his must be in a similar state) reaffirmed that he had been successful in that much, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He leans closer to murmur in Matt's ear, "If I manage to get you onto the dance floor, will you promise not to lock yourself away as you previously threatened to do?"
Matt, for his part, was trying not to think about J being gone at all, clinging to the hope that, like last time, she'd be back. Knew he was clinging to it, which only made him hang on more tightly.
Having Elfangor close helped, and didn't. Matt didn't want to be needy, but fuck, what if the so-called gods decided to take him away, too?
"I'm really, really crap at dancing."
But he sort of wanted to. Wanted to feel un-self-conscious enough to do it in the first place, which wouldn't be easy.
"I might need another drink or three." He attempts a grin. "But I can try."
But this time felt different. It was just a feeling, really; he had no evidence to base this feeling off of. But his gut still insistently told him that this time it's different, what if she doesn't come back, how will Matt--?
But he forced himself not to think about that. He knew Matt was already thinking about that, and he couldn't stand to add to those oppressive thoughts. No, he needed to be distracted. They both did. That was primarily why he was wearing those pants, and a glance darted to Matt's still-tousled hair (he's certain his must be in a similar state) reaffirmed that he had been successful in that much, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He leans closer to murmur in Matt's ear, "If I manage to get you onto the dance floor, will you promise not to lock yourself away as you previously threatened to do?"
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Having Elfangor close helped, and didn't. Matt didn't want to be needy, but fuck, what if the so-called gods decided to take him away, too?
"I'm really, really crap at dancing."
But he sort of wanted to. Wanted to feel un-self-conscious enough to do it in the first place, which wouldn't be easy.
"I might need another drink or three." He attempts a grin. "But I can try."
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