[ To his credit, he doesn't scowl at her. Doesn't frown or let his brow turn downwards in the way it usually does when he disapproves. It doesn't go the other direction either; doesn't turn into sharp angles and hard, impenetrable planes. He doesn't glower, his gaze doesn't bore. Chuck simply looks at her plainly, as if she were an object that he could take or leave. (And Mako soon discovers that it's so much worse than any sort of fit that Chuck could pull. She would rather have his disappointment than nothing at all.
A shut door An empty cup.)
Pressing her lips together, she steels her own expression but falters at the tail end of it, dissatisfaction creeping in at the edges. Mako looks down at her dress and suddenly it feels like a betrayal. (Had she come here wanting his opinion? Or was it his approval that she was hoping for?) ]
( x i : d 3 )
A shut door An empty cup.)
Pressing her lips together, she steels her own expression but falters at the tail end of it, dissatisfaction creeping in at the edges. Mako looks down at her dress and suddenly it feels like a betrayal. (Had she come here wanting his opinion? Or was it his approval that she was hoping for?) ]
Raleigh invited me to the Pavilion.