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Georgie's always had a thing for people who feel very deeply. She's drawn to intensity — likes people whose attention carries weight, whose depth of feeling is palpable.
She knows this about herself. Could choose to change, or at least try, if she really wanted to. It's not exactly the most sensible character trait in this world of monsters and horror.
So she supposes really she only has herself to blame.
"He hates me," Melanie says, glaring at The Admiral with what Georgie has to admit is a palpable depth of feeling.
The Admiral is dozing in a sunbeam. Every so often he wakes up just enough to yawn, thoroughly indifferent to the two women watching him from the settee.
Georgie has a response all lined up — "He doesn't hate you" maybe, or "He just takes a while to get used to people" — but Melanie looks so cute, all focused and indignant, that she can't resist saying instead, "Could be."
Melanie whips her head round to turn that glare on Georgie.
It's kind of hot.
It's very hot.
It's not-in-front-of-The-Admiral hot.
"What. You. Georgie." Too outraged to be careful, Melanie tips herself forward into Georgie's space. Her eyes flick to Georgie's mouth, then away. "Why does your cat hate me?"
There's a crude joke to be made here, but Georgie is too busy enjoying the almost of the moment — Melanie almost touching her, almost kissing her, almost crossing that line.
"Cats are like that," Georgie says. She lets herself take a long, deliberate look at Melanie's mouth, to imagine breaching that almost, to imagine the warmth, the electricity. She waits long enough to be sure Melanie sees her doing it, understands her meaning, her desire.
Melanie swallows hard and moves backwards slowly, cautiously.
"Are you sure he's not possessed?" she says.
Asleep in his sunbeam, The Admiral twitches. He's sprawled out, soft fluffy belly exposed, little pink nose standing out clearly against the mottled ginger of his fur.
"By what?" Georgie asks.
"I don't know." Melanie's cute when she's petulant. Melanie's cute all the time. "Something mean and spooky."
"Yes, Melanie, I'm sure that my cat is not possessed by the ghost of something mean and spooky," Georgie says. "Not liking you is a sign of poor taste, not supernatural whatever."
Melanie looks at her sharply.
Georgie shrugs, gives Melanie a soft smile. She said what she said. It's up to Melanie to decide what to do with it.
Melanie laughs. "You're such a dick."
Georgie feels her smile growing broader. "First my cat, now me? I can't believe you're coming for us like this."
"I'm the only one who can see it!" Melanie protests. "Everyone thinks he's an adorable cat and you're a stalwart pillar of the paranormal investigator community, but I know the truth! He --" She points at The Admiral. "-- is a fiend and you --" She brings her finger up in front of Georgie's face. Georgie could lean forward and kiss it if she wanted to. She really, really wants to. "-- are a dick."
Melanie keeps her hand out longer than the joke really allows, her finger pointing accusingly at Georgie's lips. She meets Georgie's eyes, looks away, looks back.
"Um," she says. Her hand hasn't moved. Her finger is trembling slightly.
"Um," Georgie repeats. Want punches her square in the gut. She wants to kiss Melanie's finger, she wants to kiss Melanie's mouth, she wants to squabble and laugh their way into bed and touch every part of Melanie that Melanie wants her to touch. She wants this moment to last five hundred years, to stretch out the tension until they're electric with it, to push and push until Melanie snaps into action, all that intensity focused on Georgie, all that depth of feeling brought up to the surface.
She leans forward just slightly, presses a soft, dry kiss against the tip of Melanie's finger.
"Oh," Melanie says. "Oh. Wow. Right." And then she smiles a happy, wolfish smile that Georgie feels all the way to her toes. "Really?"
"Really," Georgie says. Then, because if Melanie misread her cues, maybe she's misread Melanie's too, "You?"
"Obviously," Melanie says.
And then Melanie leans forward, presses her mouth to Georgie's, and nothing else in the whole world matters but the bright spark of joy passing between them, one kiss at a time.