Eliot Waugh

Eliot had . . . self-medicated the evening away after Jon had left. Wondering if Margo was trapped in the nightmare house that the police guy and his weird boyfriends had picked as their fourth or whatever, or if she’d seen a chance to go home and taken it without him or — some other option that his self-pity wouldn’t let him see right now. Because if she was in the nightmare house, he was too chicken shit to go look for her. And if she ditched him . . . well, he deserved that, right? For being the sort of asshole who ended up in the nightmare house in the first place.

So, you know. Woe was him. Weeping and gnashing of teeth and all that.

This morning found him passed out on the couch, the detritus of his evening scattered around him. Not even an inappropriate sexual partner around to boost his morale upon waking.

Woe was him indeed.

[expecting one and will be slooooooooooow]

Eliot was very glad to still be his normal adult self this weekend, considering that his child self had not yet been properly Eliot.

Margo, on the other hand, had clearly been Margo through and through since birth.

"You're not doing it right," she said imperiously. "You have to hold your pinkie out like this!" She demonstrated with the little tea set that Eliot had turned their normal sized tea set into for the weekend.

"Ah, you're right, darling," Eliot said with supreme dignity. "My apologies." He held his pinkie out, receiving an approving nod. "And would your majesty like another tea cake?"

Tiny Margo was adorable, and had Eliot wrapped tightly around her little finger. And neither of them would let the other forget it when she was back to her full-sized self again.

[Margo modded with permission! Mostly for Her Majesty, but can be open as well. Standard slow play disclaimers apply.]