33 Apocalypse Ave, Friday afternoon

[existencemisspent]

So. Eliot had managed to give Jon's weird metabolism something to feed on for a hot minute despite it very much still being played out, and as far as he could tell, he hadn't managed to pick up a psychic hitchhiker while he was at it.

He had, however, managed to drain Jon's entire apartment of any ambient magic and completely exhaust himself.

He swanned wobbily into the house, feeling much like he might after a very successful party back at Brakebills, and let himself collapse full length across the couch in the living room.

"We need a fainting couch," he announced into the cushion. "This would be much better with a fainting couch. And grapes. And brie!"

If anything would let Margo know that it had all gone okay and Eliot was not going to slowly dissolve into his own trauma, it was overly dramatic demands for fanciness.

[expecting the housemate, but can also be open!]

Comments

[existencemisspent]

Eliot lazily flicked her off.

"At least now he won't end up starving enough to traumatize and eat a kid or something."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Great. Coulda accomplished the same thing by tying an anvil around his ankle and shoving him into the sea,” Margo retorted. “Look, I could do this all day, but I don’t wanna. Yay, you’re not dead. Congrats.”

She gave a casual flick of her wrist.

“I’m still not gonna crawl in the dirt and worship at the altar of wowee-what-a-great-thing-you-did no matter how many rounds we go, so if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go upstairs and pour myself a few drinks until I forget about all this.”

[existencemisspent]

Eliot heaved a sigh and waved her along. "As though I could stop you if I did, Bambi."

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

“Great. Would’ve loved if you’d had this epiphany five minutes ago,” Margo said.

She was already moving for the stairs before half that sentence left her mouth, brushing her hair back so it’d fall back just right.