Ford's brows lowered slightly. What did Macnair think he was doing right now, if this didn't qualify as messing with Ford? Cornering him in a ballroom and forcing him into a conversation he'd made it clear he had no desire to have, taunting him by saying he hadn't even started yet, looking at him like that. And before, at the club, coming over and starting up a conversation even though he knew Ford was irritated, and poking and prodding until Ford said that — and before that, at the Fae Ball, coming over and insisting on helping with his ankle and caressing his leg. He was constantly finding ways to insert himself in Ford's life and wave what Ford was missing out on around in front of his face, which was cruel when Ford already knew he couldn't have it.
Only he couldn't really blame Macnair for all of those other times before tonight, Ford realized. He'd thought that it had been obvious when he broke things off, but the surprise on his face on Saturday night made it clear that Macnair hadn't put everything together until then. So he hadn't realized how high the stakes were for Ford when they'd interacted at the Fae Ball or even at the start of their conversation at the club. He was doing what he could, consciously or not, to get Ford to come back. It only hurt so much because Ford was determined not to let it work. Macnair didn't know all of that, how things looked from his end.
But he'd know now. If he didn't know, he'd at least have some vague indication after what Ford had said on Saturday.
"I didn't mean to say it," Ford said quietly, cheeks flushed. His meaning was clear: I wasn't trying to mess with you. He could see, now that he'd taken a step back from it, why Macnair might feel that way — it was a hell of a thing to say to someone less than two weeks before their wedding, even if it wasn't a real wedding — but it hadn't been his attempt to reopen this conversation. He hadn't had any intent at all.
Only he couldn't really blame Macnair for all of those other times before tonight, Ford realized. He'd thought that it had been obvious when he broke things off, but the surprise on his face on Saturday night made it clear that Macnair hadn't put everything together until then. So he hadn't realized how high the stakes were for Ford when they'd interacted at the Fae Ball or even at the start of their conversation at the club. He was doing what he could, consciously or not, to get Ford to come back. It only hurt so much because Ford was determined not to let it work. Macnair didn't know all of that, how things looked from his end.
But he'd know now. If he didn't know, he'd at least have some vague indication after what Ford had said on Saturday.
"I didn't mean to say it," Ford said quietly, cheeks flushed. His meaning was clear: I wasn't trying to mess with you. He could see, now that he'd taken a step back from it, why Macnair might feel that way — it was a hell of a thing to say to someone less than two weeks before their wedding, even if it wasn't a real wedding — but it hadn't been his attempt to reopen this conversation. He hadn't had any intent at all.
Set by Lady!