One-On-One ((closed))

Morrigan turned off her phone, leaned her head back against the cool wall. Eventually, she forced herself to her feet, setting her phone on the table and opening one of her kitchen drawers. Pulling out a knife, she sat down in a chair, braced it against her skin.

But a loud ding interrupted her. She glanced towards her phone, setting the knife down and reading the message. It was both what she'd hoped for, and what she'd feared.

No, it wasn't your fault, it was well-meant. If you'd still like to, after my mistake, then I'd be up for meeting again as well.
Sent. There was no going back now.

Sounds good. Which it didn't, but at least it was better than a formal dinner. Morrigan bit her lip, contemplating what to say next. See you tomorrow, then?

Sensing that the conversation was over, Morrigan set her phone down on the table and lay her head in her hands. She stayed there for a long time, misery etched into her features, until she finally stirred and took the knife back into her hands.

(skip or stay?)

(Sure, around late afternoon? Do you want to start or should I?)

(Yeah sure)

Morrigan pushed the door of the coffee shop open, the tinkle of the small bell drawing her sharply back to the present. Just breathe, she told herself firmly, No repeats of yesterday. Pretend you’re okay. Don’t push him away. It’s not that hard.

Morrigan's stomach twisted as she approached him carefully, stopping behind him to tap on his shoulder. "Hey, there."

She'd made sure to cover the heavy dark circles under her eyes with concealer before she left, but that was the only makeup she had on, save for a touch of lip balm. Her face was unusually exposed, the majority of her scars there for the world to see– After last night, she needed a touch of honesty in her life. "To be honest, not that great," she admitted, shame flickering in her eyes at the memory of how awful she'd acted last night. "But that's not unusual. How about you?"

Morrigan's palms had begun to sweat, but in truth, the honesty of it all was refreshing. Or at least, it would be if she wasn't currently suppressing a monstrous amount of anxiety. "I'm sorry if I was the cause of that," she said quietly, eyes flickering away.

Morrigan pushed a hand into her unruly head of hair, scratching at the nape of her neck. "And.. I know I sent a text- But I figured it would be impolite of me not to apologize to you in person for what happened last night." She was surprised at how smooth her sentence ended up, with almost no stammering or awkward pausing between words. That's a first..

I.. shit. I should probably explain that part to him too. Try as she might, Morrigan could not scrub her conscience free of yet another lie she'd told him, and in an attempt to get rid of it, she opened up the tiniest bit more. "That you for- for your understanding– but I never had meds in the first place. I sort of… panicked, didn't know what to say– and that came out. I'm sorry."

"I– I'm not proud of it." She bit her tongue, inhaling. "I just.. panicked. Anxiety meds would be nice, though."

An instinctual distrust rose to the forefront of her mind, but she was careful not to let it show as she mirrored his tiny chuckle. "It's fine. How was- How was your day?"

Morrigan was suddenly very glad she hadn’t dressed up— it was sort of nice, to just.. dress down. Relax. “It’s been uneventful until now. Pretty good.”

Morrigan pulled out her wallet, pulling out a few bills and handing them to him. “Here— I should probably pay you.”