33 Apocalypse Ave, Monday afternoon

[existencemisspent]

Right. So. Margo and Eliot clearly weren't making it back to Fillory any time soon, no matter how often they tried threatening or bribing the portal gnomes. They also weren't going to make it back to Brakebills, judging by how none of Eliot's attempts to contact Quentin again had worked. They were going to be here, in this mysterious little pocket of whimsey next to Baltimore of all places, for the foreseeable future.

They were going to need to find more appropriate lodgings before Eliot broke down and started trying to smoke any of the plants above the lotion shop.

"Well," he said, looking over the façade of one of the few pieces of real estate on the market that wouldn't come with a landlord. "It's no Physical Kids Cottage, but I suppose we can make do."

[expecting the platonic life partner, but can also be open!]

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[existencemisspent]

The Physical Kids' Cottage had plenty of stuff stuck to its ceilings from spells gone wrong, but they drew the line at things that would actually rot there.

"We should redo the walls," Eliot mused. "Maybe knock one or two down, open this floor up. . . . Shall I hunt down some spell ingredients?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“The wall between the living room and the kitchen only,” Margo decided. “We might need those spare rooms for drunks.”

She stepped away from Eliot, and eyed the walls. “But let’s draft up a plan before we get overexcited, shall we? We don’t even know what style we want yet. Maybe something. . . vintage?”

She held out her arms. She pulled them towards herself, crossing them until they formed a perfect ‘X’, and bent her hands back. She thought about the size of the space, the waning crescent, the bubbling anxiety at the root of her stomach that she’d been burying. Her arms slid out of position, pushing outward. Dark wallpaper with hints of green spread across the back wall. Whatever wood it touched turned a deeper, richer color, until the back of the living room closely resembled the communal space at the Cottage.

“Hm? Or do we want something more modern?”

[existencemisspent]

"Hmmm. I like the vintage look," Eliot said, surprising no one. (Just look at all the damask he wore on a regular basis.) "It's . . . cozy. Our throne room was glamorous, all light an airy, but sometimes a good party needs a more intimate feel."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“I don’t think we’re going to pull a throne room out of this house no matter how many spatial charms we dump on it,” Margo agreed. “Though I wouldn’t say no to at least one window with a real view.”

[existencemisspent]

"Oh definitely. Perhaps we can convert the top level into a sort of VIP exclusive loft space?"

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“And give it a little more of a, hm. . .” Margo’s fingers curled under her chin. “Well, I’d have to see the space, but right now I’m thinking. . . Roman?”

[existencemisspent]

"I was leaning more French," Eliot said. He was often leaning more French. "But I could see Roman being nice. An airy bathhouse vibe."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Honey, this place is so fucking French already I keep expecting to smell baguettes when I step outside,” Margo said drily. “Come on, picture it. Grape vines, long chairs, pretty boys in their underwear fanning us. . .”

[existencemisspent]

"Togas," Eliot said dreamily. "Very well, Bambi. I bow to your decadent decatorial instincts."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Thank you,” Margo said. She preened only for the perfunctory five seconds that statement required; after that, she swept towards the stairs. “Now let’s see what we’re working with.”

[existencemisspent]

Eliot trailed after her, digging into his pocket for a cigarette.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

The stairs opened up to a landing, and what looked like at least two more bedrooms and a bathroom. “I’m almost impressed by how much they managed to fit in here,” Margo said, and looked up. “. . . Less so by the decorating. Ew.”

Was that moldy pizza?

[existencemisspent]

“Oh. My. God.” Eliot made a horrified face, instinctively performing a spell that should yank the offending thing off the ceiling. “Who even lived here?!”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“I don’t know!”

Margo’s hand darted out in dainty horror. A snap of her fingers, and the pizza was on fire.

[existencemisspent]

Eliot pulled out his flask. “Right. Adding . . . disinfectant spells to the list.”

He took a long drink and watched the pizza burn.

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“This is gonna take a weekend,” Margo said, shaking her head. “At least.”

[existencemisspent]

Eliot offered her the flask. “At least there aren’t any poisonous plants?”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“And there’s going to be a wall between you and me when we go to sleep at night,” Margo said. “Not that I mind bunking up, but privacy is nice.”

She took the flask.

[existencemisspent]

“If I wanted to share a room with someone I’d have a boyfriend,” Eliot agreed. (As though part of him didn’t very much want a boyfriend.)

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Would Fillory even let you have one?” Margo wondered. “We’re on another world.”

Her feelings on Eliot and boyfriends remained. . . mixed, if less so than they used to be.

[existencemisspent]

“Ember’s dead,” Eliot said. “Umber, too. And Fillory doesn’t have any magic anymore. I’m pretty sure that makes me a free agent again.”

He was just going to do his best not to think about what had happened with his last boyfriend, okay?

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Maybe you should do that speed dating thing they’re running downtown,” Margo mused. “Might at least get you laid.”

[existencemisspent]

“Speed dating, hmm? How very 1997. Still, retro is in. . . .” Eliot tilted his head. “I’ll go if you will.”

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo shrugged. “Why not?” she said. “Won’t hurt to see if there’s anyone not-British that’s single and bangable.”

[existencemisspent]

“I’ve spotted a few,” Eliot said. “Here and there. And we can get a better idea of who’s worth inviting over once this place is party ready.”