#amara:thread

“you need to sleep-- it’s been thirty four hours--” amara holds the wrench above his head. “come on-- nap time immediately.” she steals his tablet too and takes several steps away from her clearly exhausted father. “ i’m sharing this lab with you--i  don’t want to die because you’re sleep deprived and sloppy. and yes you’re sloppy-- some of your calculations are off by at least 2 decimal points-- you’re going to blow us all up--and i’m too cute to die. way too cute. see this face?” she points her finger at her dimple. “adorable.” she points at him. “see your face? in need of a shower--and a shave.”

amara hates needing a rescue but tonight had been a disaster. an unmitigated, horrific disaster. she looks good, a tiny black dress-- her hair in wild curls. she'd been fully prepared to flirt a little, to play at dating but the sheer bigotry from her date had her half screaming at him over the rim of her negroni."this is why i don't date finance bros. they get real competitive-- and then they get pouty when they lose. i'm never letting anyone set me up again." she pouts against her phone. "he's currently growling at his scotch and we haven't even gotten past the second drink. pick me up before i commit a murder. pretty please?"

cc: @reiignonme

“if you’re here to lecture me you can fuck off.” Amara’s hair is matted with blood, her arm is in a cast-- but she’s mostly fine. “Tony already lectured. But quite frankly-- what’s a broken arm when what i’ve discovered will change everything--” in some moments she is so clearly her father’s daughter, her eyes alight with potential and madness. sparks of something akin to genius. the sparks turn into something else when she meets they’re eyes and sees the concern there. and she’s blown away-- mostly because they’re arrangement didn’t include concern. It included a wedding no one wanted, for the greater good-- included arguments so loud the tower shook from the strength of them. but not the naked concern swimming there. “I...am fine. Honest. It won’t scar-- or anything. Should be fine really.” she replies softly.

it’s a reflex swipe. that’s what amara tells herself as her finger slides the (entirely too attractive) face of her best friend’s sibling right. she pretends like she hadn’t read their profile-- like she doesn’t think it’s funnier than a tinder profile has any right to be. and most of all she pretends there’s more than one paper thin wall between them. it doesn’t matter which way she swipes-- anyway. they’ll never know. but then her phone is lighting up in the dark-- you have a new match. and suddenly there’s no pretending. just panic and curiosity and the knowledge of how many steps it takes to get from the bed to their door. bugger. bugger. bugger. she makes a split second decision and slips out from underneath the covers-- and creeps over to their room. her bare legs erupt in goose pimples as she steps into the cool hallway. and she tugs the hem of the borrowed shirt down. it isn’t until they open the door that she realises three things. 1. she’s still a little tipsy from the party her best friend had dragged her to. 2. this is actually their shirt-- and it could look a little creepy in the right light. and 3. she had no plan. “uh-- i-- your sister gave me your shirt i didn’t steal it or anything i’m not obsessed with you and oh--” she blushes deeply--it’s the truth and yet somehow it sounds even more insane than letting them thing she was obsessed with them. “....bugger. i should go back to her roomm. i’m going back there. nice to know you. unmatch me and you never have to look me in the eye again--”