see the devil living in those eyes
Fancy himself clever?
Spencer was, in fact at this moment, questioning any and all wisdom that he might have held at any point in his life that had him sitting in this chair, letting Askaree lean over him. Between the two of them, they both knew who held the power in this situation and it wasn't Spencer. He might be a proud man who makes questionable decisions occasionally on impulse but he was not a fucking moron with no braincells. So, he simply buckled himself in to go along for this ride that would be her temper. This "choice" was only reinforced as her hold on his thighs only increased, the muscles in his jaw working ever so tightly despite his efforts to not let it completely show. Maybe he should just kept his mouth shut. When did he start getting comfortable enough to entertain the thought of pushing back against her? Usually it was she made all the snide remarks while he sulked or occasionally feebly protested but mainly just sulked. The sarcasm and witty comments were always her area of comfort. The begrudging silence was his. Maybe he should go back to that. It seemed safer.
The glance spared toward the receptionist desk did little to calm Spencer, though he might have had a momentary hint of amusement at their expressions. Apparently this really was the most exciting part of their day, which was... well, expected really. What else may happen? A runaway wheelchair? Instead they get two attractive individuals having an intense conversation in the waiting room. Oh god, here's a terrible thought: what if they thought them a couple? Who was he kidding, they probably did. Who the fuck else would wait for her to be done. Too bad for them, he was just an idiot.
Spencer's mouth opened as though he was going to argue against her statement but instead his teeth click as his mouth snaps shut. He huffed slightly, feeling even more uneasy with her eyes boring into him. One day he would develop a poker face around her. One day. Just apparently it couldn't be today, the day he would actually need it. However, for as feeble as his excuse was, Spencer would argue (if pressed to hell and back because he was aware this was still a thin argument) that it was in his best interest to keep track of his employees (staff, coworkers, whatever) provided that their line of work was often likely to end up dead or in deep shit if left ignored. For now, however, he would (grudgingly) acknowledge maybe he had pushed too far this time.
So he did the next best thing which was throw obvious bait in attempt to change the direction things were going. Was it a cheap out? Obviously. Was he above it? Don't be fucking daft, of course he wasn't. He grunted slightly as she released her deathhold on his thighs, briefly pondering whether she had actually managed to bruise him. Well, he would find out in the morning if he had two thumb shaped marks on his legs. Once standing, Spencer straightened his coat and pants, tugging them down slightly to release any wrinkles or bunching that had occurred. "Charmed." He drawled as he stepped around her to take the lead all the same, hands slipping into his coat pockets. Still, despite the huffing and posturing, he did stop and hold the door open for her to pass through (though the thought of simply letting it swing shut behind him did flit through his mind).
However, that did leave him to the problem that he had just roped himself into drinks with Askaree, who had made it clear she was, at minimum, irritated with him. Maybe he just shot himself in the other proverbial foot. Whatever, maybe she would mellow after her preferred poison.
single | warlock | notes: