[How could she possibly be bored? She could very happily listen to Vision talk for hours - the cadence of his voice is just so soothing, even if she gets lost on the finer details of trade. He's certainly just as easy on the eyes as ever in that outfit, and while it's not quite the soft sweaters that give her even more incentive to curl up against his chest, it suits him.
It's hard to keep a formal distance between them - she can take his arm as they wander between shops, and he can touch her shoulders or back if he wishes without raising any eyebrows. But what Wanda really wants is to rest her head on Vision's shoulder and stop trying to pretend there's a distance between them that she doesn't feel. It's slight - as a member of the Queen's Triangle, Vision is expected to have a certain closeness to her - but the line still chafes.
So maybe it's not surprising that despite all of her best efforts to be good, people notice the closeness between them. She pretends to ignore it...until the woman running the coach station makes it impossible. Wanda's face is beet red as she hurries into the carriage and she busies herself fiddling with the ends of her scarf. Anything, anything, to avoid having to meet his gaze.
Is it better or worse that he doesn't get it? She can't tell.]
It...it doesn't matter. It matters who you travel with. [help, her cheeks are absolutely burning right now] She was just making a bad joke.
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It's hard to keep a formal distance between them - she can take his arm as they wander between shops, and he can touch her shoulders or back if he wishes without raising any eyebrows. But what Wanda really wants is to rest her head on Vision's shoulder and stop trying to pretend there's a distance between them that she doesn't feel. It's slight - as a member of the Queen's Triangle, Vision is expected to have a certain closeness to her - but the line still chafes.
So maybe it's not surprising that despite all of her best efforts to be good, people notice the closeness between them. She pretends to ignore it...until the woman running the coach station makes it impossible. Wanda's face is beet red as she hurries into the carriage and she busies herself fiddling with the ends of her scarf. Anything, anything, to avoid having to meet his gaze.
Is it better or worse that he doesn't get it? She can't tell.]
It...it doesn't matter. It matters who you travel with. [help, her cheeks are absolutely burning right now] She was just making a bad joke.