Making Polonius Proud

Chuckling nervously Tomlin stood between the two women, one vulgar in her familiarity, the other giving voice to a wicked ear. Augustine glared with frozen menace at the mystery woman in crimson. Her sudden burst of colluding wit only deepened his spellbound state.
“Funny, I didn’t think you the begging type Tomlin,” Augustine said in what seemed like an accusatory tone.
“Well,” Tomlin said thoughtfully rocking back on his heels, “I suppose it depends on how much I want something.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he realized he shouldn’t have said them. That did happen far too often, and at least twice already this very night.
Undeterred, Augustine tilted her head towards a dark corner of the garden, “May I borrow you for a moment?” And she flashed a false smile at Georgina.
“I don’t think she’ll lend me,” Tomlin said hopefully.
“Then I suppose it comes down to what you want,” she countered.
Tomlin couldn’t help but think it would be nice if he knew but only said, “Just to be true.”

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