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a charmed experiment; scene two
I should have left when Bella walked away. The rest of the press was gone by then, and I'd just about wrapped up. But Robbie's an interesting kid, and we were still discussing the finer points of unity among men when I heard raised voices from the kitchen.
It was the direction Bella had gone. Somehow, I guessed it had something to do with her, and maybe it wasn't my responsibility at the moment, but I guess I've gotten used to keeping a short leash on her, because now I'm standing outside the kitchen, listening to a world-class meltdown. It's uncomfortable at best, and I can tell from Bella's body language that she doesn't feel any less awkward about it than I do, but to her credit, she sticks around.
She even offers some sound, if simplistic advice. It doesn't take, but it's not the wrong move, necessarily. Mickey disappears not because Bella pushed too hard, but because there wasn't anything she could've said to fix this. It's a wound that's just been ripped back open, and it'll need some time.
But she looks defeated, her shoulders dropping a few inches, and reaches up to squeeze the back of her neck. Even if she did ask for it, it's not easy taking the heavy blows of someone else's life like that.
"Why is it people want to pour their hearts out to you?" I ask, stepping closer. She twists to look at me, expression wry.
"Why is it you like to eavesdrop on my conversations?"
"My reporter's intuition led me here." I deadpan it.
She doesn't even crack a smile. "You heard Dolly yelling."
I shrug. "Something like that." Feeling sympathetic, I catch her hand gently and take hold of the back of her neck, working the tight muscles there. "Got some tension, Counselor Bella?"
For a few moments, she doesn't answer. I'm left with silence and the feel of her unwinding under my fingers. This was a bad idea, in retrospect. Her skin is warm and she smells like something from Bath and Body Works, and my eyes are glued to her. I realize I'm looking for a reaction, a sigh, another half-lidded look, and that's — bad.
Dropping my eyes, I let her go and assemble my expression into something less engaged before I embarrass myself.
"Are you ready to meet Reggie Lee?" It's a safer subject, even if it does involve getting her in my car again. She's still quiet, though, with an indecipherable look on her face. "Bella — did you hear me?"
"Huh?" She snaps back, looking up at me. "Oh, yeah. Let me grab my purse." She disappears up the stairs, and I sigh. With a self-conscious glance around, I duck away from the kitchen and make my way outside.
It was the direction Bella had gone. Somehow, I guessed it had something to do with her, and maybe it wasn't my responsibility at the moment, but I guess I've gotten used to keeping a short leash on her, because now I'm standing outside the kitchen, listening to a world-class meltdown. It's uncomfortable at best, and I can tell from Bella's body language that she doesn't feel any less awkward about it than I do, but to her credit, she sticks around.
She even offers some sound, if simplistic advice. It doesn't take, but it's not the wrong move, necessarily. Mickey disappears not because Bella pushed too hard, but because there wasn't anything she could've said to fix this. It's a wound that's just been ripped back open, and it'll need some time.
But she looks defeated, her shoulders dropping a few inches, and reaches up to squeeze the back of her neck. Even if she did ask for it, it's not easy taking the heavy blows of someone else's life like that.
"Why is it people want to pour their hearts out to you?" I ask, stepping closer. She twists to look at me, expression wry.
"Why is it you like to eavesdrop on my conversations?"
"My reporter's intuition led me here." I deadpan it.
She doesn't even crack a smile. "You heard Dolly yelling."
I shrug. "Something like that." Feeling sympathetic, I catch her hand gently and take hold of the back of her neck, working the tight muscles there. "Got some tension, Counselor Bella?"
For a few moments, she doesn't answer. I'm left with silence and the feel of her unwinding under my fingers. This was a bad idea, in retrospect. Her skin is warm and she smells like something from Bath and Body Works, and my eyes are glued to her. I realize I'm looking for a reaction, a sigh, another half-lidded look, and that's — bad.
Dropping my eyes, I let her go and assemble my expression into something less engaged before I embarrass myself.
"Are you ready to meet Reggie Lee?" It's a safer subject, even if it does involve getting her in my car again. She's still quiet, though, with an indecipherable look on her face. "Bella — did you hear me?"
"Huh?" She snaps back, looking up at me. "Oh, yeah. Let me grab my purse." She disappears up the stairs, and I sigh. With a self-conscious glance around, I duck away from the kitchen and make my way outside.