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[goodweather]

TEXT ‎‏‏‎ ☀ ‎‏‏‎ DELIVERY ‎‏‏‎ ❄ ‎‏‏‎ ACTION

cabin: 137

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[goodweather]

Good! [ Phil beams at her as he tucks his tie back into his waistcoat. ] That's just one way of tying, too. It's called a four in hand knot. You probably don't need more than just that one yet, though.

[ ("Yet," he says, not stopping once to think about it.) He reaches forwards to tug and straighten the knot, folding the collar back over. ]

There. Don't you look handsome.

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Handsome.

If Darcy were physically able to spontaneously combust she probably would right at that second. It's a one-two-three punch of approval, affirmation of a gender she didn't even know she had, and fixing how her clothes were sitting in an affectionate way. Is this how she dies? Probably, right? She can't go on living after having experienced that. Darcy has no way to process this. Girl help.

She's just sort of deer in headlights-ing for the moment. ]

[goodweather]

[ ... Now that is an interesting look she's wearing. It's not a negative one as far as he can tell, but something about what he said there struck deep, and now Darcy's caught in some kind of processing loop. Something about the word "handsome" at least.

He tilts his head, this sort of weird mix of amusement, curiosity, and Knowing on his face. ] You good there, kiddo?

[saltwaterlungs]

[ NOT AGAIN.

Darcy's eyes widen in the split-second before she straight up shimmers out of sight. ]

Thanks for the- yeah-

[ And she's invisibly making her way to the door. ]

[goodweather]

[ Oh, that's so funny. Phil doesn't look up or around, just puts up his hands in an "I concede" gesture. ]

See you at the wedding!

[ Kids. ]

[saltwaterlungs]

See you-

[ Half strangled, and she only reappears outside his door, bee-lining as far away from his room as she can possibly get. Fucking Christ, what is wrong with her. ]