But the woman had bite! The parting comments were wholly unnecessary; he had already had one hand on the doorknob before she'd thrown out the line about horseshit. He glowered but didn't respond before seeing himself out. He might have apparated out as soon as his clothes finished buttoning themselves up, if he wasn't still missing his coat. Blasted woman! Now he had to find it, which would sooner or later involve seeing people. Being kicked out a dressing room was one thing, but being made a spectacle for the rest of the ballet company to whisper about behind their hands was quite another.
(It did not help his mood that he did not remember the way to the main stage and opened at least one supply closet while trying to find it).
This was monstrously unfair. Not that Oz felt he was owed anything particular in the physical sense — he had never been one to indulge in sex unless he felt he'd earned it first, and any sign of a lack of attraction or arousal from his partner was an immediate mood-killer for him. On the other hand, he knew he had not done anything to deserve being treated so crassly at the end. So she was still in love with her dead husband. That wasn't his fault, and she'd given him no indication at any prior point that she was quite so fragile. So his cologne had reminded her of something painful. He couldn't have anticipated that, and certainly hadn't intended it.
(He nearly tripped over the corner of a sandbag and swore under his breath as he stumbled to regain his footing).
She had encouraged him too, so she had no rights to act as though he'd been predatory. If anything she had been the one stepping across the line most frequently, with her stunt in the catwalks and the way she'd kept looking at him. She had hardly seemed to be under duress when he'd been kneeling at her feet. She'd turned on him in an instant, and now she wanted to rewrite all their previous exchanges to make him out to be a villain. It wasn't fair, and what was more, he was wholly unused to dealing with situations like this. How could he even begin to defend himself against such baseless accusations? Did she really think that he'd stalked her for months with the intention of... what, exactly? Pleasuring her once and then leaving without getting anything for himself? Intruding in her life for the soul purpose of upsetting her?
"My coat," he snapped at the first person he saw when he did manage to reach the stage, who skittered away to retrieve it. Oz stood center stage with his arms crossed, waiting. The manager approached and began to ask whether he would like to reserve tickets for any of the performances, and Ozymandias shot him such a sharp look that he left off mid-sentence. Oz didn't intend to see Sophia Voss again, which would make it difficult to carry on with the pretense of being a loyal patron of the ballet. She may have enchanted him, but he was disillusioned now; she was broken, and if he tried to continue playing with her he would only be cut for his troubles.
His coat was retrieved and he left the theater, in a foul mood and doing nothing whatsoever to hide it.
(It did not help his mood that he did not remember the way to the main stage and opened at least one supply closet while trying to find it).
This was monstrously unfair. Not that Oz felt he was owed anything particular in the physical sense — he had never been one to indulge in sex unless he felt he'd earned it first, and any sign of a lack of attraction or arousal from his partner was an immediate mood-killer for him. On the other hand, he knew he had not done anything to deserve being treated so crassly at the end. So she was still in love with her dead husband. That wasn't his fault, and she'd given him no indication at any prior point that she was quite so fragile. So his cologne had reminded her of something painful. He couldn't have anticipated that, and certainly hadn't intended it.
(He nearly tripped over the corner of a sandbag and swore under his breath as he stumbled to regain his footing).
She had encouraged him too, so she had no rights to act as though he'd been predatory. If anything she had been the one stepping across the line most frequently, with her stunt in the catwalks and the way she'd kept looking at him. She had hardly seemed to be under duress when he'd been kneeling at her feet. She'd turned on him in an instant, and now she wanted to rewrite all their previous exchanges to make him out to be a villain. It wasn't fair, and what was more, he was wholly unused to dealing with situations like this. How could he even begin to defend himself against such baseless accusations? Did she really think that he'd stalked her for months with the intention of... what, exactly? Pleasuring her once and then leaving without getting anything for himself? Intruding in her life for the soul purpose of upsetting her?
"My coat," he snapped at the first person he saw when he did manage to reach the stage, who skittered away to retrieve it. Oz stood center stage with his arms crossed, waiting. The manager approached and began to ask whether he would like to reserve tickets for any of the performances, and Ozymandias shot him such a sharp look that he left off mid-sentence. Oz didn't intend to see Sophia Voss again, which would make it difficult to carry on with the pretense of being a loyal patron of the ballet. She may have enchanted him, but he was disillusioned now; she was broken, and if he tried to continue playing with her he would only be cut for his troubles.
His coat was retrieved and he left the theater, in a foul mood and doing nothing whatsoever to hide it.
MJ is the light of my life <3