This timing is...odd.
On the other side of Jessie's embrace, in a kitchen with too many "shabby chic" pieces and god damned owls, Michonne locks eyes with Rick.
This is a wordless heavy look they've shared on so many occasions, Michonne was actively working up the courage to address it.
Now, she'd just settle for no eye contact at all. Hell, she'd settle for no eyeballs so she couldn't see Rick's large tan hand cup Jessie's lower back. Part of her wonders if she'll ever recover from the shock of seeing Rick tangled up with the very married head of the PTA while her husband is in the next room.
She blinks upwards to four times as she waits for her body to catch up with her brain. Rick's eyes, however, remain unblinking, charged and on her.
Michonne's locs shift from left to right as she shakes her head to break the trance and when she turns to make her exit, her empty wine glass slips from her fingers and meets the tile.
Her wince is perfectly timed with Jessie turning around.
"Fuck."
All three of their apologies, albeit motivated by entirely different things, collide instantly.
Michonne begins to kneel to collect the large pieces of glass only to be stopped by Rick's hand on her bare arm, "Be careful, you'll cut your hand. I'll get a broom."
His hand is still warm from it's spot on Jessie's waist; Michonne takes a step to her right to avoid it and those blue eyes.
"There's one in the closet," Jessie's voice is more high pitched and breathy than normal.
"I'll grab it," Michonne and Rick say at the same time.
Michonne doesn't look at either of them as she walks over to the large closet, "I got it."
"Are you-" the beginning of Rick's inquiry is immediately cut off.
"I said I got it. You two get back out there," Michonne insist firmly without looking up from her work.
Rick stills for a moment, eyes fixed on Michonne's profile. Jessie peers at Rick, then at Michonne before smoothing her dress down and cheerfully points out the location of more glasses.
She makes her leave. After one un-reciprocated look, Rick does the same.
Michonne waits until she hears their footsteps disappear to cease sweeping. Her fingers reach for her temples.
"Fuck."
"Fuck."
Rick tightly mutters into a very tall very neat glass of bourbon.
At this point, Abe was having a conversation with himself, because Rick was not listening. He felt like an idiot. No, he felt like a coward. Maybe he should just turn around and head back to the kitchen and explain.
But, explain what exactly?
His brow scrunched as he conjured up what felt like the start to a bullshit excuse.
That same fragment of an excuse died as she sauntered back in the room in that hip hugging dark jumpsuit that all the women in attendance commented on when she arrived.
She walked over to Maggie and sat on a ottomon; crossing her legs gracefully. She didn't spare a glance his way. Which is more than he could say for Jessie, who was looking back and forth at him like she had to cross a busy street.
Michonne brought her wine glass to her berry covered lips and leaned in to hear Maggie over the less than docile string quartet. Her forearm pressed on her cleavage, making them look rounder than ever be-
"If you look at her any harder she might damn well burst into flames," Abe says from Rick's left.
Rick averts his eyes quickly, but he's already caught red handed. He takes another swig of bourbon, "I'm not staring at her."
A clink of a champagne flute is his proverbial saving bell.
Jessie and Pete Anderson looked like one of those couples you'd see in a elite Country Club advertisement if such a thing existed. Perfectly, perched on the steps of their immaculate foyer, a hundred some odd guests are reminded of that fact.
Jessie smiles brightly as Pete gives a speech that is clearly rehearsed and undoubtedly self-aggrandizing. But when you break ground on a new Culture and Science Building attached to your kids' school, I suppose you're owed a back patting speech.
No one seems to mind. After all, the Anderson's paid for a top shelf open bar in addition to providing party goers with child care for the evening so they could enjoy said top shelf bar.
Michonne is concentrating so hard on not rolling her eyes she's afraid she'll get a migraine. She regrets getting all dressed up for this event. She regrets telling Rick to do the same.
She tunes Pete out to contemplate her exit. She can't use the "Pile of work" excuse again. She used it last time, only to be met with faux-pity from Jessie and the other stay at home moms. Being a working-single mother with this group of women goes over as well as a bull in a glass factory. Rick and his unintentionally hilarious observations would typically help her through events like this. She is cruelly reminded of how close Rick's face was to Jessie's neck and takes what her mama would've called an unladylike-like gulp of wine.
An Irish goodbye is the best she can come up with. And at the rate everyone is drinking she has no doubt that no one will even remember her attendance.
"-And thank you to my beautiful wife Jessie. The constant culture to my science," Pete said starting the round of applause.
Michonne put her glass down to clap before taking long strides towards the door. She quickly opens the door and shuts it behind her quietly.
She takes a deep breath and fumbles around in her gold clutch for her keys when a familiar warm hand wraps around her bicep.
It occurred to Rick that he thought of absolutely fuck all to say to Michonne.
"Are you...headed out?" he cringed at the basic question and it's weak delivery.
Michonne's left eyebrow (her "Oh really now?" brow they jokingly called it) slowly rose. He was close enough to smell her hair - it smelt like it always did, perfect.
"Yes Rick, I'm headed out," Michonne said in a way that implied air quotes.
"Oh," he replied lamely. Michonne looked pointedly at his hand, which was still wrapped around her bicep. He dropped his arm to his side and brushed his curls back like her arm just happened to be a pit stop on his current plans to mess around with his hair. Muted music from the other side of the door was the soundtrack to what would typically be an awkward silence.
"Chonne, I-" and for the second time that evening Michoone cut him off.
"We're all grown Rick. You don't owe me an explanation," Michonne hoped she didn't sound as mad (disappointed? Bitter?) as she felt.
Rick took a determined step closer and tried again, "But I do. I do owe you an explanation".
With heels on, Michonne gained a little ground on Rick's tall frame. However any ground she obtained was lost when she got a whiff of his cologne. Her eyelids fluttered as she took an unconscious step forward.
Still void of a prepared speech, Rick decided now was the time to speak from the heart. He took a deep breath and attempted to take Michonne's hand in his only to be interrupted by the front door swinging open. They both turned to a backlit Jessie.
"Oh Michonne, are you headed out?" Jessie asked almost cheerfully.
Michonne took a giant step back from Rick, "Yes, I have a pile of work to get through."
"That is what I absolutely love about you Michonne," Jessie beamed linking her arm with Rick's, "You're such a strong independent woman."
Both of Michonne's eyebrows shot up at the clear implication of the word independent, "Well Jessie, I guess some women can't have it all."
Jessie's hundred watt smile dimmed at the implication of all. Michonne spared one more look at Jessie's arm linked around Rick and Rick standing there with the same charged expression she caught him with not so long ago and took her leave.
"Thanks for an unforgettable party. You two have a great night."
I had every intention of making this a one shot but *shrug emoji* still some things I have to introduce and wrap up.