Jean can't disagree with that. She likes nicer things, but she would give them all up for the chance to return home instead of moving into this place. "Maybe a day or two; when I remember how much time it takes to cook everything before it goes bad."
There's a quiet, barely suppressible fondness for how Logan is staking out her new place and looking for weak points. Double checking that nothing seems too suspicious already, inside it and outside of it. It's part of how he does. Too. Bone deep, and heart, too. Him making sure those he loves are safe, especially when he isn't planning to be there all the time to take care of whatever might come crashing in the glass.
"A girl can't give away all her secrets," Jean commented, taking things from her bag and putting them in a more-than-not empty dresser when it had what little she had so far. "Especially not when the dance partner in question is still holding at least, if not more, half their cards back still, too."
Of all of them who ever called Westchester home for any mount of time, she was the least likely to blame him for struggling to do the same, or his inability to settle there with anything like permanence. She wondered about it, maybe even hoped for it sometimes— he's certain of that. But unlike some, she never impressed upon him any ultimatums. No thinly veiled warnings that if he didn't stay now there'd be no invitation later.
The temptation to stay with her now is there too, but as always the wider world feels like it's holding on to some secrets he needs to know. Just in case he's connected to them in some way. Apart from that, Excelsior seems a more fitting place for someone like her than him. Too much development, cleanliness, futurism and he starts to feel like a lab rat.
"Me?" he asks like he can't imagine what she means by that. But there's that smirk on his face too. The one of a man who's very nature resists being known trapped under the gentle scrutiny of a woman who's sees everything. "I thought you might. Have you... had a look into any of'em?"
well aren't we a match pair; the real world is so mean
Jean can hear it all, like the lull of the thoughts through the walls, floor, and ceiling in every direction, out and out, in the big, broad city, and the world beyond there, too, even if she keeps it at a distance. She does not need to answer the doubt and truth in those first thoughts. The part always testing the edges, almost desperate to find the cracks.
Because problems are easier. Heartbreak, sadness, loneliness, not belonging, not being accepted, the changing of a mind when it was all too much finally. It's the other part that's uncertain. That touches something still fragile, breakable, wanting so far under everything else. Loving Logan is like loving the wind. Leaving your hands open but trusting it's going to find its way back to whispering over your skin again. It's getting to relish the small moments he realizes it, too. No more or less than he's willing to give.
"Maybe you." She hadn't meant that originally, but her mouth tugs crooked watching that smirk. It's true as much, too. "Or this place." And it having any clue about what she's capable of. But both work. Both aren't entirely known. But only one is being kept from her if she cares to press. "Yeah, I've looked. Enough to know. I don't like how much I still don't know and can't be known unless you've signed your name. I want to know more."
They both did. They just went about it in different ways.
careers? health? fiscal responsibility? who signed up for this shit?
It did cross his mind that it was the Alliance she was referring too, but he couldn’t resist getting in front of any accusation that he might be more like those he’s at odds with than he’ll admit. Isn’t that always the case with him? And she would know better than most.
Satisfied with the security of this place, as much as any, he turns his attention more thoroughly onto her.
“You met any of’em you trust?” Because despite his own skepticism he’d take her intuition without so much as a grain of salt.
That's a little more serious, isn't it, and Jean meets his gaze across the small space.
"Aside from the people from our world--" And there are some more questionable at that, but still theirs, still people she'd picked faster than those unknown. Better the devil you truly do know. "--it's still a gamble. On how much is known about the people here and about the people who've arrived here the same as us."
"I'd like to," is added a second later.
But they've got a lot of reasons blanket trust isn't given blindly.
Then, "Do you?" She expects the answer, but still it's worth asking.
"Hm," it's a thoughtful, but knowing little grunt. Between the two of them, they'll be able to suss out something soon, but in the meanwhile precious little is bound to loosen the knot of distrust that sits deep in the pit of stomach. If past experience is any indicator that could take years with him.
"No," he shakes his head. It's an unsurprising answer and he doesn't couch it in the least. Not with her. "Why keep people here? Why not try to send people home? Why put down roots just to stay and police a planet that isn't yours? Unless there's something in it for you."
"You'll tell me, yeah? The minute you think you got a read on someone. Any red flags, and you lemme know. I'll go sniffing around any place they wouldn't want you."
"Of course." A soft echo of always wrapping the thought behind it.
There isn't a moment's hesitation to it. There'd never have been even before now. All of this new equation to never take for granted. Even before that, they were a good team, when it was being buried and not well, only in not being said. "Same with you. Drop me any names you think need--" A tilt of her head, faintly narrow of her eyes, even as she smiled a little sharply. Too easily. "--a deeper look into."
Her loyalties weren't to any of them, and it made the rules ... bendable. Especially until there was a reason to consider lines not worth crossing.
"Course," he nods and crosses back to her from the window. First just to get a look in her fridge and then to dole out a couple of beers.
Maybe it didn't need said at all, but to voice that feels like having a little piece of home here. Like a promise that such familiarity can continue to grow here just like it did on Krakoa.
"There's nobody else I'd trust with the truth." He caps a bottle and offers it to her as his eyes rover across the spines of a handful of books of hers. There's so little of her apparent in this space yet it seems worth noting everything that is distinctly her own.
"I'm thinkin' I'll go back to the city." He broaches that idea like he knows it might not be the most expected place for him to land. "For now at least. There's some things there I wanna look into."
Jean gratefully takes the beer as he continues to not-quite pace, restlessness already in his waves. The books are even much like hers at home yet. But then, this isn't home. They're all histories. This world. The heroes on it. This city. Even when his words nick slightly and there's a breath in her nose. Her words try for light first: "Color me surprised."
There are several things she could say here. Too many of them press at the back of her chest. Some that are too selfish. That he'd do if she said or asked them, pushed for it, seemed to need it, she doesn't doubt that, or him, but it wouldn't be true to either of them. She'll be fine. She'll miss him, and she'll add that to missing Scott, but she'll be fine, and there are things to figure out here, and they both need to do that.
Then, because sometimes she lets herself be selfish. Just the littlest bit. Because she's allowed to want things now, she never would have asked for before it all. "Stay the night at least?"
Not that she has a clue how soon he's even talking about, tomorrow or week from now, and not that they are done with the line of questions that will come from that statement he's dropped between them, but just in case. Because some things were allowed to take some precedence.
Bottle to his lips his eyes dart quickly to hers at that remark, looking for the gentle tint of amusement that always colours the way she teases him. He can't help but smirk into his drink. How it is he feels like he's won something when she's mocking him? He'll never know.
"I was hopin' you wouldn't put me out on the stoop," he smiles back.
Sliding easily into her personal space, he pushes her hair out of her face so he can keep track of her eyes. "I ain't in a hurry. And you know all you gotta do is say the word and I'll be back here when you want me."
Jean's fingers tighten a little on the cold glass and the beaded sweat over it as his fingers brush her hair back. Leaving nothing uncovered, the way so much of this does. There's an ache tangled up in that, both too old and too new to have words to explain it. Instead, with her free hand, she catches his hand against her cheek, leaning her cheek into those rough solid ever-steady fingers, even as she didn't look away from his eyes.
{ You think far too highly of my self control where it comes to that }
As always those little touches threaten to burn him if he holds onto them too long, but he can help tempting them all the same. Even now that things aren't so closely guarded the thrill of it is still bright and hot. Partly because she does that to him and partly because even with permission he'll always feel a little like a pauper reaching for the crown.
"You've never much abused it before," smiles, his knuckles grazing her cheek. { No matter how much I'da let you. }
When he steps closer his thumb faintly follows the line of her bottom lip and along side the intensity with which he takes in her features there's something giving him pause now. Something he didn't expect to find there himself.
"This is ok?," he asks as he closes the breath of space left between them to kiss her. "Even here? Even when it's just us?"
His knuckles graze a soft line of warmth across her cheekbone, and she swears she can feel it seeping into her bones, even as he jokes, and she is not sure she is. At least not entirely. That part of her he'd always taunted her as existing, the part that wanted him, beyond the control of her carefully constructed world. The thing she couldn't have. But wanted all the more for it.
That was this, too. The want to press a button because she could. Because some part of her, long kept waiting, wanting, wanted that proof. Even when the logical part of her knew she didn't need it, and he deserved a world better than he'd ever gotten. To never have that willingness abused.
Her eyelids flickered briefly toward closed as her heart gave a sudden loud beat, stomach tightening, at the thumb that brushed her lips, and the question was almost cute. Coy and careful and questioning in a way that Logan never is before he's kissing. Before it becomes those other words, her heart missteps at its different, unexpected, confused, bittersweetness.
This request for permission. This uncertainty about allowance without Scott somewhere in this same world. This need to put that into a question, to be sure this isn't wrong somehow. Jean doesn't know when she left her bottle hanging in the air, but both of her hands are in his shirt, and the only thing she has is pulling him up closer, nodding against her forehead against his. "Of course."
There have always been rules to this— whatever they are— but lately the rules have changed so quickly. So dramatically. He's not always sure what they are anymore and the biggest, and most frightening, difference about it is that now there's perhaps more to lose than ever.
He holds onto her with one hand when she crowds his instep and juggling his drink with the other. Not only does his uncharacteristic reservation dissolve on contact when she hauls him in, but some unseen shield falls with it, like shedding a layer of skin he softens inside and out.
Logan shrugs a guilty shrug. "I ain't read the inter-dimensional part of the handbook," he teases.
There's no resistance, but the flicker of guilt under that same warm teasing makes her pull back slightly. Green gaze taking in his expression, but all of her taking in so much more than that as she realizes it at the same time as she says it in a bare whisper. "You're serious."
It's a question in the form of a statement.
A statement because she knows she's right; a question because she doesn't know why.
The way his head cocks vaguely resembles a confused Labrador Retriever.
"Serious?" he reaches for clarity by retracing the steps that got them here. "About not knowin' how things need to be here? Sure. Serious enough to ask, I guess."
His blunt fingers rake softly down the back of her hand where she holds onto his shirt. "Get the feelin' this is one of those— I shouldn'ta had to ask, situations. Is that it?"
Logan fingers are soft on her hand, and in some part she appreciates that, but in another she knows that's still a handhold to a second ago. To lightness. A willingness to let it slide away with another light set of words. But her eyes don't leave his and she doesn't pull away any further.
{ No. }
If was a question worth putting out there, even in passing, it was one that bore asking at all. She hadn't thought to, in this strange and crazy month, hadn't thought that situationally it would change, but that was an assumption all its own, too. Not one she ever put into question or words either.
"We haven't actually talked about it at all, have we?"
"No. But we don't gotta. I don't mean to put that on you. Ain't expecting anybody else to have all the answers." He can live with the chaos. In a lot of ways that's more familiar than not. What keeps him a little uncharacteristically tentative though is the unshakable feeling that he'll be the first one to get it wrong.
"You know, Parker. I run into him. He's the same Pete from home too. From the same place as us, but. Just a different time. A different moment. It had me thinkin' if you and I are like that too. Because where we come from, even being a day or so off could mean... a world of difference."
The speed at which mutants have adapted has always been more intense than most people, but lately he's been feeling those leaps and bounds like never before. When the idea crossed his mind that she might be just minutes before or behind the world he knows, assuming too much started to feel unwise.
"But here we are," he smiles. His easy grin returning. "Close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades."
"Closer." Though the low note in that word is at once a little too light and a little too warm, and it's maybe a little too much more just about that fact they are this close physically, more than a commentary on those specific words. For the space of those syllables, she lets herself have it. Then.
"You're not putting anything on me. It's—" Jean's shoulders give a little raise like it might have meant to be a shrug, except they pause and lower again, as evenly. Her gaze shifted to one side and back. "— just us."
Because Scott still isn't here, and she's never quite sure if it's the thought of that by itself or what Scott might be doing because they'd both vanished entirely for a month, that might be worse. "So it is up to just us to decide what that means."
Beat.
A little more self-consciously than average: "If something needs to change."
He chuckles warmly and lets his lips just scarcely graze hers before he kisses her. It's not the first time he's done it. And every time it feels just a little like he does it just to remember all the times he'd gotten that close and no farther.
"I ain't looking to change nothin'. I just got even more than I'd bargained for," he assures. It's true too. The words are nothing if not genuine. But he knows she might suspect him of being withholding.
{ I ain't tryna claim any more than I been given, Jeannie. Not here, or home, or any place. Whatever feels right. That's what I want. }
It's easy to lose herself for a moment in the kiss, and maybe that's its own ballast. They aren't having this conversation across some space, even a few feet. She doesn't have to find a way to cross air that builds that has net itself into walls. (She doesn't have to pretend she doesn't need it just as much. The physicality of it outside her own breath, thought, words.)
Her head shakes slowly, barely. { More isn't what I worry about. }
Isn't that the irony? There were years and years that his bravado had demanded more, but across that line, 'more' was hardly the issue or his far deeper expectation of being over it. Maybe it's what pushes it to stay in words, quiet but certain, and spoken. Careful in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with being one of the few people who knew how fragile certain things could be, no matter how the appearance might be the opposite in his actions, his words, his rusty, gruff, disregard.
"You don't get less because we're stuck here." She rested her forehead down against his lightly, hands flattening against his shirt, the drum of his heartbeat not far from one of her palms. "Not because Scott isn't, and Krakoa isn't, or even because you might not stay right here any more than you did at home."
Hearing as much feels like a needless reassurance once the words are past her lips. He should have known and any doubt was just insecurity in them. Or this new place. Or both. When dwelling on it any longer only threatens to damage his well guarded pride he nods gently under the touch of her head against his own.
"Just like home then," he chuckles quietly. So far it doesn't exactly feel like home, but having her here does help. In fact, it puts him a little in mind of lifetimes he's lived in the blink of an eye elsewhere. A world he shared with Ororo once. The centuries he and Parker saw pass them by. The hope that he and Jean would get theirs some day is a frail thing, but no matter many times its branches get clipped the roots of that idea hold fast in his mind.
"Even if I'm not here here. Call for me. Anytime. You know I'm never outta your reach, darlin'," he promises.
Jean wrinkles her nose at his words, which are in their way the opposite of hers while being the same as them, too. Nothing is like home at all. But he's the closest to it — even when there are several others from home with them here — and she can find some relief, and even appreciation, of that idea mirrored in his thoughts.
There's a vibrant solemness that never leaves her eyes, but she knows that she can't impress her point with words as much as the slow roll of days does. Will. The proof always more viscerally necessary than the promise. Here and there. Even if she wanted to press it, she knows that it wouldn't do what will. Eventually.
The words are a touchstone to carry, but not a hammer that demands acknowledgment. For later, when she isn't there, when she can't say them.
So her tone shifted, if not quite her expression entirely, "You say that but all I'm picturing is how annoyed you'll be when I page you halfway around the world at 2 am with a need to know where the best Japanese food you've found is, and whether you can bring it to me, so I don't have to get out of bed even."
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metaheroes | LOGS
~ ignore my fifty billion month teacher-death >_> ~
There's a quiet, barely suppressible fondness for how Logan is staking out her new place and looking for weak points. Double checking that nothing seems too suspicious already, inside it and outside of it. It's part of how he does. Too. Bone deep, and heart, too. Him making sure those he loves are safe, especially when he isn't planning to be there all the time to take care of whatever might come crashing in the glass.
"A girl can't give away all her secrets," Jean commented, taking things from her bag and putting them in a more-than-not empty dresser when it had what little she had so far. "Especially not when the dance partner in question is still holding at least, if not more, half their cards back still, too."
A beat. "But I am thinking about joining up."
<3 no worries. i've had a baaaaad month too. :x
The temptation to stay with her now is there too, but as always the wider world feels like it's holding on to some secrets he needs to know. Just in case he's connected to them in some way. Apart from that, Excelsior seems a more fitting place for someone like her than him. Too much development, cleanliness, futurism and he starts to feel like a lab rat.
"Me?" he asks like he can't imagine what she means by that. But there's that smirk on his face too. The one of a man who's very nature resists being known trapped under the gentle scrutiny of a woman who's sees everything. "I thought you might. Have you... had a look into any of'em?"
well aren't we a match pair; the real world is so mean
Because problems are easier. Heartbreak, sadness, loneliness, not belonging, not being accepted, the changing of a mind when it was all too much finally. It's the other part that's uncertain. That touches something still fragile, breakable, wanting so far under everything else. Loving Logan is like loving the wind. Leaving your hands open but trusting it's going to find its way back to whispering over your skin again. It's getting to relish the small moments he realizes it, too. No more or less than he's willing to give.
"Maybe you." She hadn't meant that originally, but her mouth tugs crooked watching that smirk. It's true as much, too. "Or this place." And it having any clue about what she's capable of. But both work. Both aren't entirely known. But only one is being kept from her if she cares to press. "Yeah, I've looked. Enough to know. I don't like how much I still don't know and can't be known unless you've signed your name. I want to know more."
They both did. They just went about it in different ways.
careers? health? fiscal responsibility? who signed up for this shit?
Satisfied with the security of this place, as much as any, he turns his attention more thoroughly onto her.
“You met any of’em you trust?” Because despite his own skepticism he’d take her intuition without so much as a grain of salt.
take it back i want to be young and naive again
and Jean meets his gaze across the small space.
"Aside from the people from our world--" And there are some more questionable at that, but still theirs, still people she'd picked faster than those unknown. Better the devil you truly do know. "--it's still a gamble. On how much is known about the people here and about the people who've arrived here the same as us."
"I'd like to," is added a second later.
But they've got a lot of reasons blanket trust isn't given blindly.
Then, "Do you?" She expects the answer, but still it's worth asking.
sammme </3
"No," he shakes his head. It's an unsurprising answer and he doesn't couch it in the least. Not with her. "Why keep people here? Why not try to send people home? Why put down roots just to stay and police a planet that isn't yours? Unless there's something in it for you."
"You'll tell me, yeah? The minute you think you got a read on someone. Any red flags, and you lemme know. I'll go sniffing around any place they wouldn't want you."
no subject
There isn't a moment's hesitation to it. There'd never have been even before now. All of this new equation to never take for granted. Even before that, they were a good team, when it was being buried and not well, only in not being said. "Same with you. Drop me any names you think need--" A tilt of her head, faintly narrow of her eyes, even as she smiled a little sharply. Too easily. "--a deeper look into."
Her loyalties weren't to any of them, and it made the rules ... bendable.
Especially until there was a reason to consider lines not worth crossing.
no subject
Maybe it didn't need said at all, but to voice that feels like having a little piece of home here. Like a promise that such familiarity can continue to grow here just like it did on Krakoa.
"There's nobody else I'd trust with the truth." He caps a bottle and offers it to her as his eyes rover across the spines of a handful of books of hers. There's so little of her apparent in this space yet it seems worth noting everything that is distinctly her own.
"I'm thinkin' I'll go back to the city." He broaches that idea like he knows it might not be the most expected place for him to land. "For now at least. There's some things there I wanna look into."
no subject
There are several things she could say here. Too many of them press at the back of her chest. Some that are too selfish. That he'd do if she said or asked them, pushed for it, seemed to need it, she doesn't doubt that, or him, but it wouldn't be true to either of them. She'll be fine. She'll miss him, and she'll add that to missing Scott, but she'll be fine, and there are things to figure out here, and they both need to do that.
Then, because sometimes she lets herself be selfish. Just the littlest bit. Because she's allowed to want things now, she never would have asked for before it all. "Stay the night at least?"
Not that she has a clue how soon he's even talking about, tomorrow or week from now, and not that they are done with the line of questions that will come from that statement he's dropped between them, but just in case. Because some things were allowed to take some precedence.
no subject
"I was hopin' you wouldn't put me out on the stoop," he smiles back.
Sliding easily into her personal space, he pushes her hair out of her face so he can keep track of her eyes. "I ain't in a hurry. And you know all you gotta do is say the word and I'll be back here when you want me."
no subject
{ You think far too highly of my self control where it comes to that }
no subject
"You've never much abused it before," smiles, his knuckles grazing her cheek. { No matter how much I'da let you. }
When he steps closer his thumb faintly follows the line of her bottom lip and along side the intensity with which he takes in her features there's something giving him pause now. Something he didn't expect to find there himself.
"This is ok?," he asks as he closes the breath of space left between them to kiss her. "Even here? Even when it's just us?"
no subject
That was this, too. The want to press a button because she could. Because some part of her, long kept waiting, wanting, wanted that proof. Even when the logical part of her knew she didn't need it, and he deserved a world better than he'd ever gotten. To never have that willingness abused.
Her eyelids flickered briefly toward closed as her heart gave a sudden loud beat, stomach tightening, at the thumb that brushed her lips, and the question was almost cute. Coy and careful and questioning in a way that Logan never is before he's kissing. Before it becomes those other words, her heart missteps at its different, unexpected, confused, bittersweetness.
This request for permission. This uncertainty about allowance without Scott somewhere in this same world. This need to put that into a question, to be sure this isn't wrong somehow. Jean doesn't know when she left her bottle hanging in the air, but both of her hands are in his shirt, and the only thing she has is pulling him up closer, nodding against her forehead against his. "Of course."
no subject
He holds onto her with one hand when she crowds his instep and juggling his drink with the other. Not only does his uncharacteristic reservation dissolve on contact when she hauls him in, but some unseen shield falls with it, like shedding a layer of skin he softens inside and out.
Logan shrugs a guilty shrug. "I ain't read the inter-dimensional part of the handbook," he teases.
no subject
It's a question in the form of a statement.
A statement because she knows she's right;
a question because she doesn't know why.
no subject
"Serious?" he reaches for clarity by retracing the steps that got them here. "About not knowin' how things need to be here? Sure. Serious enough to ask, I guess."
His blunt fingers rake softly down the back of her hand where she holds onto his shirt. "Get the feelin' this is one of those— I shouldn'ta had to ask, situations. Is that it?"
no subject
{ No. }
If was a question worth putting out there, even in passing, it was one that bore asking at all. She hadn't thought to, in this strange and crazy month, hadn't thought that situationally it would change, but that was an assumption all its own, too. Not one she ever put into question or words either.
"We haven't actually talked about it at all, have we?"
no subject
"You know, Parker. I run into him. He's the same Pete from home too. From the same place as us, but. Just a different time. A different moment. It had me thinkin' if you and I are like that too. Because where we come from, even being a day or so off could mean... a world of difference."
The speed at which mutants have adapted has always been more intense than most people, but lately he's been feeling those leaps and bounds like never before. When the idea crossed his mind that she might be just minutes before or behind the world he knows, assuming too much started to feel unwise.
"But here we are," he smiles. His easy grin returning. "Close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades."
no subject
"You're not putting anything on me. It's—" Jean's shoulders give a little raise like it might have meant to be a shrug, except they pause and lower again, as evenly. Her gaze shifted to one side and back. "— just us."
Because Scott still isn't here, and she's never quite sure if it's the thought of that by itself or what Scott might be doing because they'd both vanished entirely for a month, that might be worse. "So it is up to just us to decide what that means."
Beat.
A little more self-consciously than average:
"If something needs to change."
no subject
"I ain't looking to change nothin'. I just got even more than I'd bargained for," he assures. It's true too. The words are nothing if not genuine. But he knows she might suspect him of being withholding.
{ I ain't tryna claim any more than I been given, Jeannie. Not here, or home, or any place. Whatever feels right. That's what I want. }
no subject
Her head shakes slowly, barely. { More isn't what I worry about. }
Isn't that the irony? There were years and years that his bravado had demanded more, but across that line, 'more' was hardly the issue or his far deeper expectation of being over it. Maybe it's what pushes it to stay in words, quiet but certain, and spoken. Careful in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with being one of the few people who knew how fragile certain things could be, no matter how the appearance might be the opposite in his actions, his words, his rusty, gruff, disregard.
"You don't get less because we're stuck here." She rested her forehead down against his lightly, hands flattening against his shirt, the drum of his heartbeat not far from one of her palms. "Not because Scott isn't, and Krakoa isn't, or even because you might not stay right here any more than you did at home."
no subject
"Just like home then," he chuckles quietly. So far it doesn't exactly feel like home, but having her here does help. In fact, it puts him a little in mind of lifetimes he's lived in the blink of an eye elsewhere. A world he shared with Ororo once. The centuries he and Parker saw pass them by. The hope that he and Jean would get theirs some day is a frail thing, but no matter many times its branches get clipped the roots of that idea hold fast in his mind.
"Even if I'm not here here. Call for me. Anytime. You know I'm never outta your reach, darlin'," he promises.
no subject
There's a vibrant solemness that never leaves her eyes, but she knows that she can't impress her point with words as much as the slow roll of days does. Will. The proof always more viscerally necessary than the promise. Here and there. Even if she wanted to press it, she knows that it wouldn't do what will. Eventually.
The words are a touchstone to carry,
but not a hammer that demands acknowledgment.
For later, when she isn't there, when she can't say them.
So her tone shifted, if not quite her expression entirely, "You say that but all I'm picturing is how annoyed you'll be when I page you halfway around the world at 2 am with a need to know where the best Japanese food you've found is, and whether you can bring it to me, so I don't have to get out of bed even."