( they could hope for privacy — later in the evening, when everyone in the neighborhood should be asleep and they're in their bed (singular — or on the couches, plural) with the blinds drawn and lights off. but who knows. that may not be enough. there was truth to the remors that surrounded rich, close knit communities, everyone was in everyones business and gossip was a very valuable form of currency. and what was more, they were supposed to be making themselves emotionally avalible; and to nosy neighbors that might mean leaving the blinds open and lights on while they — stiltedly — interacted like a married couple at odds.
speaking of married and at odds, roxy twiddles the ring on her finger. it's expensive and gorgeous and fits her perfectly, but is really little more than a jewel encrusted metrognome as she counts the seconds and carefully calculates how long it is before she follows him. every microexpression and every little twitch is carefully choreographed — from the quiet way she shuts her car door and pulls her sweater a little closer to her body, to the delay before she smiles at eggsy and jb.
they head for the door and she joins the movers to deliver canned directions on how she wanted her furniture handled. they're all various kingsman employees, they know how this is going to go.
but standing out on the lawn for ten minutes proves quite beneficial for their mission, and by the time she joins him in the entryway it's to report — )
I've seen movement in their upstairs window. ( and to theorize openly: ) What sort of baked goods do you think they'll bring us?
( there's only two small windows by the door in the little entryway, and their front door isn't remotely oriented towards richard and petra justice's house. but there's calculation in how intimately familiar and awkardly distant she holds herself in relation to him; like she feels she should be in his personal space but doesn't want to be. )
no subject
speaking of married and at odds, roxy twiddles the ring on her finger. it's expensive and gorgeous and fits her perfectly, but is really little more than a jewel encrusted metrognome as she counts the seconds and carefully calculates how long it is before she follows him. every microexpression and every little twitch is carefully choreographed — from the quiet way she shuts her car door and pulls her sweater a little closer to her body, to the delay before she smiles at eggsy and jb.
they head for the door and she joins the movers to deliver canned directions on how she wanted her furniture handled. they're all various kingsman employees, they know how this is going to go.
but standing out on the lawn for ten minutes proves quite beneficial for their mission, and by the time she joins him in the entryway it's to report — )
I've seen movement in their upstairs window. ( and to theorize openly: ) What sort of baked goods do you think they'll bring us?
( there's only two small windows by the door in the little entryway, and their front door isn't remotely oriented towards richard and petra justice's house. but there's calculation in how intimately familiar and awkardly distant she holds herself in relation to him; like she feels she should be in his personal space but doesn't want to be. )