Idiots According To Tig

Two

That feeling where you're buried in white sheets and fluffy red blankets and trying to make it to the end of an episode of whatever on Netflix without falling asleep is enough to seduce the best of us into bed - Tig is no exception. Even though she can smell the chicken and pesto pizza, her favourite, there is no way in hell she was going to move from the perfect little dip she'd found in her mattress. So really, the knock at the door is a blessing. Maybe not from God, like Martha would assume, but Monty is hot enough to be a God. Although, obviously Tig is too stubborn to actually acknowledge that.

"Hey, I bought you some pizza?" He squeezes in between the wardrobe and the end of her bed, shuffling through the tiny gap between the white wall and the squishy mattress that honestly he would like to curl up in right alongside her. He puts the plate down on her small cherry-wood bedside table.

"Did Martha tell you I would be nicer if you fed me?" her voice is slightly muffled, and her eyes don't leave her iPad's screen. Nervously, Montgomery chuckles.

"Kinda. But this is your favourite, isn't it?"

Hair in a ratty mess, she sits up and inhales the smell of greasy pizza. It would have been a lot nicer if she hadn't stormed off half an hour ago and had to have it reheated. "Yeah. Thanks. You want some? There is no way I can eat all this." It might only be half of a pizza, but it is half of a really big pizza.

Montgomery smiles gratefully, and perches on the edge as she clumsily moves to the other side.

"So tell me about yourself, Monty."

"There's really not anything to tell."

"Everyone says that, I'm fairly sure it's a lie. So what is it?" She grins in the way that only she can, and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

"W-what's what?"

"That's what I'm asking you, sweetie," she giggled. She seems to only have two moods: flirty and bitch. Not that Monty would ever call a lady a bitch. "No wait - let me guess. Ok, so... your Dad was always really hard on you growing up, so now you have, like, an inadequacy disorder or whatever."

"Er, no?"

"So was it the best friend? They were an overachiever and rubbed it in your face, now you're an insecure perfectionist?"

"What, I'm not insecure?"

"Huh. I just assumed, 'cos you know... those jumpers, the stuttering... Well off the top of my head, the only cliché I have left is that a pretty girl broke your heart. Or died."

"Wait, what do you mean about my jumpers?!" He looked down worriedly at his outfit, which in actuality was not that bad. His navy blue shawl-neck jumper has two stripes, one red, one grey, across the middle and is rolled up to his elbows along with the pale blue shirt sleeves that seem a little to dressy for pizza at a friend's. Although, his dark wash slim-fit jeans are totally hot, so whatever.

"Nothing, they're cute. Honest." She smirked like she knows something he doesn't. And she does - she knows he won't believe her because of who he is, and she finds that funny because of who she is.

"Hm." Of course she is right. "So if it's not my jumper, what is it that makes you think I'm insecure?"

She pauses before answering, wondering if she should lie. But she has no reason to. "You always stutter, and everything you say is a question. It just makes you seem unsure of yourself."

He nods, like that's an acceptable answer. There aren't many people who tell you the truth straight up - no bullshit. But the fact that she's one of them is pretty cool. They sit (Monty sits, Tig sort of lies awkwardly with her head propped up) in silence for a few moments. It's weird.

"So what about you? What's your cliché?" He looks down at her fondly. It would make her heart melt if it wasn't made of stone.

"I don't know. My mum and Dad got divorce when I was twelve, if that counts."

"That's not a cliché that's a tragedy. People shouldn't get divorce." Tiger sits up at this. She loves it when people have strong opinions because she loves arguing her own.

"What if they're not happy?"

"What if they have kids? It's their job to stay together to look after and provide for them."

"Well if their being unhappy made their children unhappy they wouldn't be doing their job at all."

"Divorce is a sin."

"Does it say that in your bible?"

"Yeah, it does actually."

"Did it occur to you to make your own opinions instead of going along with some book full of stories about a dictator and his many miracles?" She mocks.

"That's blasphemous. And untrue, I trust the Lord."

"It can't be blasphemous, I don't even believe in God."

"Why not?"

"There is seriously some absence of evidence that he exists."

"But there's no evidence of absence either."

"But I don't believe in God because I'm not as gullible as you apparently are. Do you believe in flying pigs and unicorns as well?"

"Having faith doesn't make you stupid."

"Yeah. It really does."

There is a long look between them. It's like Montgomery is trying to figure out why she refuses to believe in anything, and Tiger is trying to figure out why he does. Neither of them get it.

"You know, I really have to get going." Tiger nods, and without making eye contact gets her iPad off the bedside table. Monty leaves.

A few minutes pass before Martha comes in, a scowl evident on her face. "What did you say to him? Why did you make him leave?"

"He was saying some bullshit about religion. He defended his beliefs, I defended mine."

"You don't have any beliefs."

Tig frowned. Being atheist doesn't mean she doesn't believe in anything - neither does not having faith. Of course she believes in things, just not the same things as Martha. Ugh. They're both so frustrating.