At first, Zadie doesn't know what Presley's doing when he approaches and leans over her, holding out the star. Smiling hesitantly and closing her eyes is more of a reflex than a decision until she feels the faint warmth on the tip of her nose. She hadn't expected that. She catches the star carefully in her hand before sitting up and turning to look at him. Does he not want it? After the effort he made to catch it? She doesn't get the chance to ask before he's presented her with a question, though.
"...Maybe a little?" she admits, thoughtlessly beginning to turn the little star over in her fingers, "These always get chaotic. Do you want to hide with me? Or are you having fun?" She hopes he is. He seems like he might be and that's fairly rare.
"Fun would be a definite overstatement," Presley declares, with expansive hand gestures to match. "But... I'm not not having fun, I suppose. How do we define fun, anyway? If in about thirty minutes, I determine that I've had my fill of this whole fluffy cloud dream experience, would that mean that I was not having fun?"
It's hard to tell if Presley honestly expects an answer. When he's in a mood like this, his thoughts feel like free-flowing liquid, and his mouth rambles without a quality filter. Which, dangerous. Those drinks were strong.
Maybe some rest would do him good. Presley accepts the implied invitation, and sits down next to Zadie.
This rambling response makes Zadie smile a little and she continues to turn the star over in her hands even as he sits down next to her. It's very pretty. "I'm not sure," she admits, looking his way a bit shyly just because the situation feels somehow foreign, "Lionel is the philosophical one and there's no objective metric for fun."
"It's never that easy, is it?" Presley rubs his forehead, wondering if he really has an oncoming headache or if he just wishes he did. Wouldn't this all be easier if he was having a bad time?
Presley sighs and leans forward to stretch his arm muscles. (Dancer habit.) "Why do you even bother to go to parties?" His tone is more curious than accusatory. "Think of how much more productive you'd be, if you just never felt the urge to socialize."
This seems to give Zadie pause. Not because she doesn't have an answer but because she's surprised that her answer isn't a given. "...For moments like this, I guess," she says and smiles at him with undisguised fondness, "To be with my friends. I think...even people like you and me burn out if all we are is productive. Probably."
That probably does trouble her at times. But not all that often anymore.
Nodding to indicate that this is her full answer on the matter, she looks at Presley and asks, "Why do you?"
THE STARRY NIGHT: Zadie & Presley
"...Maybe a little?" she admits, thoughtlessly beginning to turn the little star over in her fingers, "These always get chaotic. Do you want to hide with me? Or are you having fun?" She hopes he is. He seems like he might be and that's fairly rare.
THE STARRY NIGHT: Zadie & Presley
It's hard to tell if Presley honestly expects an answer. When he's in a mood like this, his thoughts feel like free-flowing liquid, and his mouth rambles without a quality filter. Which, dangerous. Those drinks were strong.
Maybe some rest would do him good. Presley accepts the implied invitation, and sits down next to Zadie.
THE STARRY NIGHT: Zadie & Presley
THE STARRY NIGHT: Zadie & Presley
Presley sighs and leans forward to stretch his arm muscles. (Dancer habit.) "Why do you even bother to go to parties?" His tone is more curious than accusatory. "Think of how much more productive you'd be, if you just never felt the urge to socialize."
THE STARRY NIGHT: Zadie & Presley
That probably does trouble her at times. But not all that often anymore.
Nodding to indicate that this is her full answer on the matter, she looks at Presley and asks, "Why do you?"