Marcy watched his smile widen slightly, watched the familiar look on his face that always came when he was remembering something. She couldn't count on a thousand hands how many times she'd seen this expression, or seen those slivers of dimples carved into his cheeks. She remembered how her fingertips felt when the traced over them, every morning, laying in the mess they'd made the night before. Without knowing it, her fingers had begun fiddling with the loose string hiding in the crook of her left arm, trying to distract herself from getting pulled into memory-land herself; otherwise she knew she'd be standing there with the same strange, reminiscent smile on her face.

But that wasn't why they were here. No, she was here to get even. Or, at the very least, get some place to stay.

Nathaniel had taken a few steps closer to her, and Marcy for some reason straightened up a little bit, her chin gravitating upwards slightly in an attempt seem taller than she was. He probably would recognize the stance, the habit that she couldn't shake, always employed when she felt she needed to try and regain control or power over the situation. The room wasn't very big - at least, it didn't [i]seem[/i] very big at the moment. Maybe she was imagining it, but it seemed to be shrinking around the two. Forcing them to get closer. His proximity was already freaking her out, making her toes buzz with electricity and the area between her legs come alive like they hadn't in so long. 

[i]No, stop it. That's not why you made him come get you.[/i]

Wasn't it?

She could smell him, too. She'd smelled him as soon as he'd walked through the door. It was hard to miss: A strong cologne, a sophisticated scent. Leagues away from the musk he naturally wore on his skin, the aroma that had enveloped her for so many years. The difference snapped Marcy out of her reverie, and she reached up with a slender hand to flick the back of her pointer finger against the tip of her nose. A change in subject.

"Ah, well, I've been just... Fantastic." The undertone of sarcasm in her jazzy-alto voice came trickling back out. "You know, after the withdrawal, they were pretty nice to me here. Free meals, passable bed. Therapist only tried to get in my pants a handful of times. Not so bad..."

"What about you? TV tells me you're doing pretty well."

Understatement of the decade. Marcy's head had fallen to the side, observing his highness, trying to see if she could still get a rise out of him. After all this time, she could still nail the role of his best friend's impish little sister.

"Although, I would have guessed that the President would have nicer threads than those?" She gestured her chin towards his attire, grinning at the idea that she might be the only person to have seen him out and about in sweats.