"Ah, hedonism," she says, looking amused. "There are a lot of arguments both for and against hedonism within a feminist construct."
That isn't what Steve is looking to talk about, she's very aware of that, but she can't help but tease him a little. In fact, she's fairly certain Steve doesn't necessarily want to talk at all and while she knows he would sit here and listen to her talk about feminism if that was what she really wanted, it isn't. Not at all. Instead she keeps thinking about how he'd looked with his shirt off and the stupid, fantastic sweep of his hair, and how easy it would be to just crawl into his lap and make him forget that she's still not eighteen for another nine day.
It isn't that she wants him to cross lines he's set for himself, she recognizes how fucked up that would be, but she doesn't see the difference in nine days. Besides, it isn't as if they haven't already kissed.
Maeve shifts on the couch, kicks off one of her loosely tied boots, then uses the toes of her freed foot to kick off the other. Her knee nudges against Steve's thigh.
"Some lines have to drawn, don't they?" she asks, still grinning, still speaking as if they're really about to enter into an ethical debate on hedonism. "No one would ever get anything done otherwise."
no subject
That isn't what Steve is looking to talk about, she's very aware of that, but she can't help but tease him a little. In fact, she's fairly certain Steve doesn't necessarily want to talk at all and while she knows he would sit here and listen to her talk about feminism if that was what she really wanted, it isn't. Not at all. Instead she keeps thinking about how he'd looked with his shirt off and the stupid, fantastic sweep of his hair, and how easy it would be to just crawl into his lap and make him forget that she's still not eighteen for another nine day.
It isn't that she wants him to cross lines he's set for himself, she recognizes how fucked up that would be, but she doesn't see the difference in nine days. Besides, it isn't as if they haven't already kissed.
Maeve shifts on the couch, kicks off one of her loosely tied boots, then uses the toes of her freed foot to kick off the other. Her knee nudges against Steve's thigh.
"Some lines have to drawn, don't they?" she asks, still grinning, still speaking as if they're really about to enter into an ethical debate on hedonism. "No one would ever get anything done otherwise."