spencer stewart

                  the stewart credits the discomfort to the space between them in a way that most people would think the opposite. she gets up from her chair and moves to the opposite side of the table to meet aspen’s thigh with her own and share the booth. “ASPEN,” spencer’s voice beckons in a way that sounds pleading, though she’ll never admit it. she looks up at the girl from under her lashes, but says nothing until aspen can get the courage up to meeting her gaze. spencer sucks in a breath because if aspen DOES meet her gaze, she’ll need it, but regardless she holds a smile plastered onto her lips. a small chuckle escapes her nervously as she says, “we are not going to talk about the weather. okay?”

                         the ascend starts and it’s minimal proper foot placement, maximum upper body strength and thigh strength to hold herself up and writhe her body upward. as she climbs upwards toward the points which would likely impale someone should they land poorly from a sky diving jump, but would do spencer and milena no foreseeable harm. “i will complain about this with my dying breath,” spencer calls out to her, jokingly, as if all of this effort were truly a spot for strangers to swap saliva. once at the top, spencer lifts her legs one after the other in a slow motion above her head so that she is doing a hand stand inbetween two of the impaling poles at the top. a back tuck is her chosen form of dismount before feat land with a large bend of the knee on the ground on the other side. without so much as a word, she begins walking off in the opposite direction, curious to see if milena’s reaction would be an audible one. regardless of the fun in PRETENDING to ditch, the brunette turns around and begins walking back up to the gate. she wraps her arms around two of the poles and sticks her face between them in an attempt to get closer to milena, as if to make up for her joke, but also just to see her up close. “now’s your time to walk away,” she offers before chewing down on her bottom lip in the way she has a bad habit of and leaning her head lazily against one of the metal bars on one side.

                        a hand moves to her heart like she’s just been shot with what she would explain to be a paint ball, as anything worse would cause for bigger dramatics, even though spencer knew her reaction to a literal bullet in the same position would likely be the same poised, single movement reaction. “OUCH,” spencer says. “i don’t think i can handle finding out i lost HIM too,” are the words that leave the brunette, dripping in sarcasm. she sits up, tucks hair behind her ears and welcomes this moment of solitude, this moment before nudge comes walking back in, or their gallagher schedules get in the way, to really sit with bash and have this conversation. “i kinda don’t even like the name rory anymore,” she admits with a sense of child-like gossip, like she’s EXCITED to unpack the logistics. “aurora? magnifique. but RORY? i don’t know. spencer feels more REFINED, but not too disney-princessy, more me.” she doesn’t know when she had that realization, when it stuck, when it all came together in her mind, and maybe this was the first time she’d admitted it to anyone, even herself. “i don’t think we’d have to do anything majorly different. i mean, i’d like my ass to be going on missions, that’s for sure. --- but other than that, i think i just want that sense of FREEDOM without ties to this shitty situation. the longer we’re in witness protection, the longer it feels like that day is going to loom over us, ME, and just rule the rest of my life. --- at least outside of witness protection we can TELL people we’re belikovs... if we really want to.”

                     pulling out a red lipstick from her bag, spencer decides to touch up the color she assumes is gone from licking her lips due to their being practically coated in pure sugar from their last drink. “it must be EXHAUSTING to be you,” spencer says before smacking her lips together and standing up straight as if she’s suddenly tipsy enough, or the lighting is just right, or whatever the reasoning, that she’s finally ready to take claire in for the first time. she gives the girl a slight once over, arms in a wonder woman stance on her hips. “so it’s not for ‘the hell of it,’” spencer starts, repeating the information shared with her. “okay, glad to rule that out ---” one hand extends to the bar to lean her weight on, but she doesn’t shy away from the closeness to claire. said closeness is mostly due to lack of room as well as the needed variable in this equation for hearing one another speak, though perhaps claire would prefer NOT to hear her. there was also the added bonus that their closeness might make claire feel something, and call it a need for change in her one-note-anger-disposition, but spencer welcomed the change in FEELING when it came to claire walsh. “so if it’s not for the hell of it, claire walsh,” she says, naming names to make CLEAR that trying-on-nicknames is a thing of the past (the past being two minutes ago). “then what is it?” spencer asks point blank, eyebrows raising.

                    the brief pause in words between them feels like air standing still and spencer allows that moment of holding her breath to notice calypso noticing her, or at least how close she’d sat. should she ask spencer to move, she’d respectfully do so, but if she wasn’t going to ask, spencer wasn’t going to offer seeing as she was concerned about no one’s boundaries but her own. she welcomes to the turn of events as they come, observing calypso in a less self-serving way once the conversation continues. she takes in calypso stepping out of her comfort zone, she takes in the fact that she’s vegetarian, she takes in the glimmer that reflects in calypso’s eyes right before she looks away. all of this leads to a half smile, one that spencer is chewing down on her bottom lip to hold back. “i’m NOT suggesting that you need any help in this department --- ” spencer starts, fingertips reaching up toward calypo’s chin and barely grazing the skin, lifts her chin upwards. --- “but you should really look a girl in the eye when you ask her out...” the smile is unleashed from its hold beneath spencer’s teeth once she’s begun talking. there’s a brief pause between words as she adds two that perhaps make things feel less intense, even though there’s no explanation as to how it might change the context: “to dinner.”

                          a laugh comes at the agreement on going out, like what they share in common is so absolutely pathetic it’s comical. while spencer knows it might come across that way to another’s eye, she doesn’t personally find it to be pathetic at all, if anything, she finds it interesting. after all, here were two girls adverse to going out when low and behold, it is going out that was the event bringing them together in the first place. spencer watches the smile that meets ella’s expression for a little while longer as if waiting to see what it tells her. “cute,” she offers without explaining because it is and she has a tendency of calling things as she sees them. “STEWART,” spencer answers, shrugging back like it’s some sort of language of ella’s that she’s capable of speaking --- “but on a good day you can call me whatever you like.”

                           call it the alcohol or the rush of confrontation, but spener’s brash honesty comes rolling in full force like a bowling ball ready to take down whatever necessary for a strike. “well that’s a BORING ANSWER,” spencer coos, eyeing willow from her head to her toes in an obvious fashion. “at the very least,” she smiles sheepishly, “i’ll say that aspen certainly has TASTE.” when a smirk grows to her expression, showing the emotions that toy with her, flirting in the face of conflict, spencer bites down to keep it at bay. she chews on her lip a moment longer, watching willow carefully, as if curious to see if her body language will share with spencer something her words won’t.

                     being the youngest child in her family, spencer is no stranger to knowing what she wants and pouting when she doesn’t get it. perhaps that desire to not take no for an answer is something she and ria have in common, something that can link two opposite souls with one simple barrier. a small smirk is tempted to tug at the corners of spencer’s lips, but she keeps it at bay, knowing full well that if there’s something ria wants that spencer has, MAYBE she could be a gracious host and offer it. so in the name of pure fun, spencer takes a step closer to the blonde, eyes never leaving her this time, to be sure that the attention-holding ria is attempting is successful. she holds the gaze between them as if to test ria, see if she will let it drop. when it doesn’t yet, spencer offers a low voice saying, “it’s admittedly... too inappropriate to share.” a hand moves forward and tucks a strand of blonde behind ria’s ear before meeting her other arm in a fold across her chest, like a move on a chess board awaiting the next player. 

                  “i am decaffeinated and grateful,” spencer says matter-of-factly, nodding her head like elen had said the magic words even though they weren’t much different than her initial offer. spencer licks her lips once and sucks in a breath in the kind of way where socializing takes an extra bit of OOMF from you. “so what’s your go to drink, then?” she asks, knowing she could likely get her drink right on the first guess with some simple analyzation, but allowing elen to introduce herself seemed like the more appropriate way of getting to know someone if that’s what they were going to do.

                       the idea of the promise of food pulls spencer in closer to calypso, sitting there on the edge of the bed as if she hadn’t arrived to discuss LEAVING the hotel premises. “i’m always hungry,” she says plopping down to make herself at home. “what are you offering?”

                         looking up at the height of the thing, it’s vast-feeling of multitude in comparison to her small body. part of her wonders if it’s a good idea. “i’ve only been here one,” she admits, more to herself than to milena. “i hope it’s still the same,” she says under her breath. hands move to the bars, and then she turns back, head looking over her shoulder toward milena. “if we DON’T make it to the other side, we die without so much as a kiss. sounds kind like a kind of tragic way to go.”

                       the lemonade girl looks distracted, spencer thinks to herself with a small smirk tugging at her lips. she watches aspen from the door before deciding whether or not to pull the door handle of the shop open. part of her thinks there’s still time to turn around, save both herself and aspen the pain, but eyes narrow in response to the challenge as if anyone but herself is judging the internal dialogue. the distracted state works to spencer’s advantage, offering her the element of surprise. “coffee orders change, y’know,” she says, eyebrows raising. she pulls her legs up and tucks them underneath her, reaching for the coffee aspen took the liberty of ordering, “lucky for you, i’m a creature of habit.”

                              ah, of course. would someone be more surprised to find a pleasant claire or an unpleasant claire? spencer wonders to herself quietly, rhetorically, and all the while letting out an audible sigh. hands go up like a white flag ready to wave down its offenses and meet their demise in defeat. “no joking, then --- what was i THINKING?” she asks taking the bartender’s second drink of a whiskey neat, a drink that’s spencer approved, but claire walsh ordered, like they think that the two are at the bar together. “come ON, claire. can’t we leave the gallagher behind for one night in honor of one of us outdrinking the other at a gay bar in berlin?”

                            fingers play with the fabric of the comforter and she shrugs her shoulders in response to bash. “it could be going better...” she says, not referring to her brother’s relationship this time, but talking about their own situation. “i kinda thought we’d be out of witness protection by now,” she admits for the first time. “didn’t you?”

                      surprise tickles spencer’s expression because evangeline’s words sound like exactly what she wants to hear except she knows for a fact that she’s given evangeline absolutely zero way of KNOWING what it is she wants to hear, which must make what she says genuine, authentic even. perhaps she’s been a little too judgmental quick to label all of her peers as dim-witted ego maniacs with no focus. her body language relaxes in response, head veering off into a tilt to one side as she jokes, “god, where HAVE you been all my life?”

                                     licking her lips to answer a question that doesn’t feel completely directed toward her, spencer hesitates a moment before saying, “PITIFUL isn’t reserved for my group mates alone, unfortunately.” eyebrows furrow as she contemplates their two sentences, having experienced the opposite of evangeline, people refusing to take things seriously because ‘berlin is supposed to be like super FUN!’ a sentiment that spencer would disagree with based on tone alone. “why?”

                         perhaps too on edge for her own good, spencer eased up at the sound of an invitation. maybe it was one too many nights alone, maybe it was her body going into fight or flight mode because it remembers only being in berlin when on missions with her family. regardless of any rhyme or reason that might exist, spencer decides there’s nothing wrong with saying yes to free coffee. “yeah,” she says with an impish grin towards the kindness of her roommate, feeling a bit foolish for not having accepted it sooner. on their way out of the hotel, spencer admits, “i’ve actually not been here before. i, just... i’ve been going out of my way to stay out of the gallagher zone, i guess.” when she hears herself say it out loud it’s not to her brother or to kass, but to elena and a part of her feels concerned that her roommate will find her snobby or some other unflattering characteristic that doesn’t match spencer’s intentions. eyebrows furrow, a smile brightens her features, and she looks over at the girl earnestly asking, “is the coffee good?”