He turns a little, leaning one side against the bar, elbow cocked lazily on it, gesturing with his beer in the other hand, weight shifted over one hip and planted against the glossy wood. Lets the sounds of the bar wash over him, nightlife pushing into full swing somewhere outside, under stars and brilliant specks of white Christmas lights, strung along palm trees like a trail of fireflies. He can hear music, and laughter, and the muted sounds of conversation, and it's all good, but not as good as glancing at Steve's shoulders and back and seeing them a little less tense than they have been, lately.
His smiles come a little later, and they tend towards the slight, these days, rather than the sudden full-body flash of warmth that lights everyone in a ten-block radius, but what can he expect? The world just shoved Steve's whole life into the "DID NOT NEED" box, and set it on fire.
He's really not sure if he'll ever be able to forgive Doris McGarrett for what she did, but it is so far from being his call, and that is not the point of tonight.
"You know, I expect the occasional threat to my person, working with you, chasing down hardened criminals, but I have to say, I really did not see a relaxing day going fishing turning out like it did. I think we're jinxed."
It hadn't started out bad. It had even been pretty good, for a while, despite the lack of shade on the boat, the water everywhere, and his own misgivings about heading far out enough that they could no longer see land.
Not terrible. Sure. But it really went spectacularly downhill from there.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-22 12:49 am (UTC)He turns a little, leaning one side against the bar, elbow cocked lazily on it, gesturing with his beer in the other hand, weight shifted over one hip and planted against the glossy wood. Lets the sounds of the bar wash over him, nightlife pushing into full swing somewhere outside, under stars and brilliant specks of white Christmas lights, strung along palm trees like a trail of fireflies. He can hear music, and laughter, and the muted sounds of conversation, and it's all good, but not as good as glancing at Steve's shoulders and back and seeing them a little less tense than they have been, lately.
His smiles come a little later, and they tend towards the slight, these days, rather than the sudden full-body flash of warmth that lights everyone in a ten-block radius, but what can he expect? The world just shoved Steve's whole life into the "DID NOT NEED" box, and set it on fire.
He's really not sure if he'll ever be able to forgive Doris McGarrett for what she did, but it is so far from being his call, and that is not the point of tonight.
"You know, I expect the occasional threat to my person, working with you, chasing down hardened criminals, but I have to say, I really did not see a relaxing day going fishing turning out like it did. I think we're jinxed."
It hadn't started out bad. It had even been pretty good, for a while, despite the lack of shade on the boat, the water everywhere, and his own misgivings about heading far out enough that they could no longer see land.
Not terrible. Sure. But it really went spectacularly downhill from there.