gunnerpaxton:
“Wine,” he repeated, watching with curious eyes as she seemed to move with ease to open the beer bottle. It felt like everything about Annabel came easy to her, and the impressive part was that it was obvious there were some things that just didn’t, and yet she still gave off a confident demeanour that Gunner all but worshipped, “Red or white? I haven’t tried wine since I was 10. My mom said it was an acquired taste, probably liked it when I’m older, but. Can’t imagine that being true,” Gunner couldn’t help but flush somewhat when Anna called him out for being so noticeably tense. It was usually something he couldn’t help anyway, but generally, he was better than this, “Sorry,” he said quickly, an automatic knee-jerk reaction, “it’s been… a week,” Once she ushered him inside the same way she’d just maneuvered someone out, Gunner sat slowly in one of the many cushioned chairs surrounding them, an amused grin appearing despite his current attitude, “They really went… the whole nine yards, huh? Bit gimmicky, honestly.”
It had taken years of adjustment for Anna to move with the ease she did now - even with half of her life dedicated to ballet, it was trial and error, trial and error. Figuring what worked and what didn’t - and how to modify things until they did work - it took up the rest of her teenage years. “I’m not picky. Depends on the occasion - I guess I prefer red overall, though. You’d probably like sangria - red wine but not as intense and fruit. Like funky punch. Don’t apologize - work on it,” Anna nudged him with her cane - lightly, maybe to lighten her words or to enforce them - maybe to help him shuffle along, “Has it been? What about - relationships? Family? Bad seafood?” she glided to the other side of the table smack dab in the middle of the tent - taking her seat across from Gunner, “Oh - yeah - not my stylistic choice whatsoever. Feel it’s got an ounce of offense to it - going to have to fight whoever’d decided to decorate the tent. You know - I mostly do readings in the comfort of my own apartment - looks nothing like this. Feels like I’m a side character in a crime show where the detectives find a clue that lead them to me and my outdated shop of mystical whatever-shit.”













