[ Something nags at the back of her mind, a panic instinct that makes her cling onto hope that she won't find herself regretting this (all of it—from lying to Skye, to being with Loki in the first place). She pushes it down. ]
[ with a hint of self-depreciating mirth that she definitely can't see. ]
Well, I'm not lying.
We'll concern ourselves with it when the time comes. There are things that I trust about Skye that'll make this ok. We'll throw a party so big that she won't be able to stay mad. Balloons, unicorns, petting zoo, I'll even make mash for it.
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But it might save her, too.
All we can do is brace for impact.
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Comforting.
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Well, I'm not lying.
We'll concern ourselves with it when the time comes. There are things that I trust about Skye that'll make this ok. We'll throw a party so big that she won't be able to stay mad. Balloons, unicorns, petting zoo, I'll even make mash for it.
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We'll skip the petting zoo.
But I do have a recipe for mash I need to try out. You, me, mash & wine.
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You know, I have peppermint vanilla bubble bath.
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Why don't we all celebrate together?
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Everyone will be so busy reenacting Queen on stage that all we'll have to concern ourselves with is the pictorial evidence of our scandalous exploits.
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