The Baker's Wife (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
andhiswife) wrote2018-11-17 05:20 pm
andhiswife) wrote2018-11-17 05:20 pm
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Greta hesitates outside her own front door, apprehension stilling her hand. It's stupid, really. She didn't do poorly, or embarrass herself, or any of the other things she feared might happen. She'd actually done well. They all had; the judges and the hosts had gone on about what a difficult decision it was.
Part of her is relieved, even. She'd been wanting to get her life back, and now she has it -- minus next weekend, of course, when they'll all be gathering to watch the grand finale. Things can finally start getting back to normal. She can think about Christmas, and their upcoming anniversary, and other things that are more about them and not just her.
But it was the hosts who delivered the bad news back in the tent, and now she has to be the one to share it. However she feels about being out of the running, it seems vaguely unfair that it's suddenly her job to tell people. There's no cheerful way to spin I lost.
There's a quiet snuffling on the other side of the door, followed by an impatient, canine groan. Well, there's no use hiding out here; the dogs know she's home, which means Thomas does, too. She shakes her head, then lets herself inside.
Sadie and Cú mob her immediately, and she seizes the excuse to focus on them, letting them sniff her hands and then ruffling their ears. "Yes, yes," she murmurs. "I'm home."
Part of her is relieved, even. She'd been wanting to get her life back, and now she has it -- minus next weekend, of course, when they'll all be gathering to watch the grand finale. Things can finally start getting back to normal. She can think about Christmas, and their upcoming anniversary, and other things that are more about them and not just her.
But it was the hosts who delivered the bad news back in the tent, and now she has to be the one to share it. However she feels about being out of the running, it seems vaguely unfair that it's suddenly her job to tell people. There's no cheerful way to spin I lost.
There's a quiet snuffling on the other side of the door, followed by an impatient, canine groan. Well, there's no use hiding out here; the dogs know she's home, which means Thomas does, too. She shakes her head, then lets herself inside.
Sadie and Cú mob her immediately, and she seizes the excuse to focus on them, letting them sniff her hands and then ruffling their ears. "Yes, yes," she murmurs. "I'm home."
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"We certainly can," she agrees, curling her arm around Saoirse and pulling her close, just long enough to press a kiss to her hair. She could take or leave PUMA Squad, but there are worse things for Saoirse to watch, or for her to knit to. It's the thought of downtime that appeals more than anything else. "Maybe we can pick out a book after dinner, and all of us can have a good snuggle. Provided you're all done with your homework, of course. Otherwise, it'll just have to be me and Thomas," she says. She punctuates it with a heavy sigh of regret, as if that would be a terrible shame, but then winks at him in turn.