the moment the claim escaped agnes's mouth, it turned sour, no ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎- ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎metallic. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the narrowing of her eyes, and that small motion alone, shifts the tides of her features:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ from superiority to anger‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (if you look closely, there in her unbelievable crimson gaze was a shadow of abandonment). ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" well it's ugly as shit, ain't it?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ i gotta have some reason to keep it. "

in one smooth motion the necklace is quickly unclasped and shoved into her purse. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's something of a snarl as she does. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎who left who last?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ agnes or her maker, she can't remember, maybe she doesn't want to.

Effy exhales, lifting herself from the chair with a stumble. An eery leer peels through her face, heavy lids fluttering open then closed. There's a long-lost tune echoing in her dampened mind, one that drowns out whatever garbage is currently playing, urging a sway from her hips. She allows herself a moment to feel it, ignoring Agnes. Ignoring the pallid ghosts that float about the party, all filled with ugly want and desperation.

" Isn't that part of the job description, Tony? Figuring it out? " It's not spat , but it's not delivered nicely either. She folds her arms close to her chest, staring at him as if she means to slice him open, unearth the Tony that used to be. " This isn't some fucking family reunion. " Effy's teeth gnash against her lip, biting until she can taste the tang of iron. " I need to win. " Seeing him like this - it's almost embarassing. A kindness that should be kept in the walls of their childhood home; of course I left the door open for you Eff, of course I'll hold your hair back whilst you vomit. Effy has no use for that here.