[There's another pause before her response comes - not nearly as long, but those three dots keep showing and vanishing while she tries to word it right.]
will you?
[He just said he would, and she has to roll her eyes at herself, fumbling to add something else quickly.]
No, it's fine no big deal. Around 1? Or... earlier? Doesn't have to be lunch. We could do breakfast. Whatever you want.
[He may not know her well, and especially not now, but it doesn't take a genius to know Vanya and anxiety are practically synonyms. Waiting around half the day for something might just drive her up a wall.]
[She is synonymous with anxiety, and part of her really misses having a very effective mute button. Fewer and fewer of her coping mechanisms have been working - and it doesn't help that she's without, maybe permanently without the most effective one.
Yeah, I'll meet you at your place and we'll go from there?
[Holyshit. He can't believe she agreed. Honestly, he thought she'd shoot him down, immediately, stop talking and ignore him. But she kept talking, wanting to understand why he would even try. Even if this goes horribly wrong, she agreed, and that feels like the biggest first win in the glacier-slow rebuild of their relationship.]
[She makes herself send him the address, though her shoulders might as well be made of tension rods.] it's number seven
[And she immediately regrets this and is burying her phone under two pillows so that she can curl up at the foot of her bed and not hear it ding again.]
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will you?
[He just said he would, and she has to roll her eyes at herself, fumbling to add something else quickly.]
I mean you don't mind?
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fineno big deal.Around 1?
Or... earlier?
Doesn't have to be lunch. We could do breakfast.
Whatever you want.
[He may not know her well, and especially not now, but it doesn't take a genius to know Vanya and anxiety are practically synonyms. Waiting around half the day for something might just drive her up a wall.]
no subject
Point is, he's right.]
11? is that okay
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[Holyshit. He can't believe she agreed. Honestly, he thought she'd shoot him down, immediately, stop talking and ignore him. But she kept talking, wanting to understand why he would even try. Even if this goes horribly wrong, she agreed, and that feels like the biggest first win in the glacier-slow rebuild of their relationship.]
no subject
[She makes herself send him the address, though her shoulders might as well be made of tension rods.] it's number seven
[And she immediately regrets this and is burying her phone under two pillows so that she can curl up at the foot of her bed and not hear it ding again.]