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No. 60425
There's something disquieting in Wallace's gaze, Ramona thinks. Can't help but think, because Stacey's voice echoes inside her head whenever she catches Wallace looking in Scott's direction. Colorful drink in hand, languid posture and indulgent smile, eyes following every move and gesture and Ramona feels a little cold inside everytime she sees this.
Now that the heat of triumphant love is gone-- no, not gone, but tampered, diminished -- she can't help but notice.
Notice Scott's change in demeanor around her, her puppy-ish kind of loving, adorable and kind of hopelessly devoted. She can't help noticing the way he is around everyone else, and she doesn't understand why it bothers her that he treats her differently. It's *supposed* to be that way, she thinks, she's his *girlfriend* and he's supposed to be different around her. She doesn't want to think why she wants him to treat her like he does Wallace, to act around her like she does around him.
Maybe it's the way Wallace smiles at her, knowingly and smug like a cat who didn't have to chase the canary, because the canary was the one to look him up. She doesn't like it when he looks at Scott, but she likes it even less when he looks at her like he's laughing at her, condescendingly, making her feel like a *child*.
"Stop it!" she hisses at him, when she's fed up wth it, while Scott is out of earshot. "Stacey warned me about you and I'm not gonna let you do to me what you've countlessly done to her, I *won't*!"
Wallace's smile is slow and sharp and utterly unpreoccupied, his eyes glint like the edge of a sword, with the cutting edge of amusement at her expense.
"Don't worry," he says to her, words sweet and corrossive like acid, "I'm not going take him away from you."
She feels out of her depth for a moment, uncertain relief trying to make itself felt, except Wallace is still looking at her with that razorblade smile.
He leans close, and she can smell peaches and tequila in his breath. "I won't take him away from you," he repeats, "Because he's not yours." She feels the bottom of her stomach drop, and a sudden cold washes all over her.
"Just wait," he continues, a wicked purr so close to her ear she can feel his breathing, "Just wait and see; he always comes back to me, eventually. He always comes back. He's my bitch forever, and he knows it," he steps back and looks at her in the eye, smile still in place, "And you know it too."
(I, um, apologize for any ooc-ness in here, but dammit, I've wanted to write this since I began reading vol. 1, ooc-ness be damned!)
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