"Perfect," she smiles, sitting up a little straighter, shaking her hair back, and Danny notes with a strange disassociation, like the world slowing down around a crashing car, like the strange silence in his head sometimes in the middle of a firefight, that she's twisting on the stool so her knees brush against Steve's hip.
It could be accidental. She's talking to him, after all, and he's standing close enough that she would, inevitably, bump into him with that particular motion. So it could be.
Just like the sudden pounding of blood in Danny's ears could be totally unrelated.
"Good thing for me you're such a gentleman," she's saying now, eyes on Steve's face like he's the only goddam person in this bar, faint pink high on her cheeks.
"Yeah, well, those bar stools," he hears himself saying, hand tight around his beer bottle, "they can be tricky to navigate. You never know when one is gonna try to toss you off. Fortunately for you, no necks broken, day is salvaged, well done, Good Samaritan."
And that's it. Right?
Wasn't she going somewhere? She's looking a whole lot more comfortable now, glancing at Danny with some bemusement before turning her full attention back on Steve, smile breaking back into flirtatious apology.
"I'm happy to get you another drink, if that one was a casualty," she offers, which. Come on. Did she not get the message? Danny's hand is sore against the bottle, muscles aching, but it's that, or toss the thing between them, just to see if shattering glass will get her attention away from Steve.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2012-11-25 12:08 am (UTC)It could be accidental. She's talking to him, after all, and he's standing close enough that she would, inevitably, bump into him with that particular motion. So it could be.
Just like the sudden pounding of blood in Danny's ears could be totally unrelated.
"Good thing for me you're such a gentleman," she's saying now, eyes on Steve's face like he's the only goddam person in this bar, faint pink high on her cheeks.
"Yeah, well, those bar stools," he hears himself saying, hand tight around his beer bottle, "they can be tricky to navigate. You never know when one is gonna try to toss you off. Fortunately for you, no necks broken, day is salvaged, well done, Good Samaritan."
And that's it. Right?
Wasn't she going somewhere? She's looking a whole lot more comfortable now, glancing at Danny with some bemusement before turning her full attention back on Steve, smile breaking back into flirtatious apology.
"I'm happy to get you another drink, if that one was a casualty," she offers, which. Come on. Did she not get the message? Danny's hand is sore against the bottle, muscles aching, but it's that, or toss the thing between them, just to see if shattering glass will get her attention away from Steve.
It doesn't look likely.