It says something that he doesn't reach up and catch her arm by the wrist before the first pad of a small finger is pressing against his skin. Tracing the bottom line of his tattoo with the edge of a nail, before pushing at the cloth at the bottom of his sleeve. When it is small, and he has to remember how very breakable the human wrist is. Especially the smaller bones in a women's wrist. Especially one who really can't seem to take the hint he handed out nicely first.
When he's reminding himself at least she's so far in the category of politely pushy and not jettisoned over the line.
Enough that, just maybe, the slamming sound behind him, whatever it was. Wood and glass and sloshing beer. Snaps some of the tension from the muscles between his shoulder blades, when they nearly quiver with the strength of holding still instead of reaching out. When he's surveying her pushing her luck, thinking about commenting with either the which term of service he got it in, which won't help, or, perhaps, the number of sessions and hours it took to complete.
Because he's down to a slightly narrow eyed, staring pause, but he's not going to rudely about face away from a bar fly.
But that's a decision that is very suddenly, very verbosely, taken right out of his hands and his mouth.
When Danny rounds from behind him. Close, but not touching. Close enough this a triangle, where Danny is foisting himself half between them, her stool and the little space he was already standing between his and hers to catch her originally. Shooting off words, sharp and fast and not nearly tinted enough they aren't almsot outrightly insulting first and then bare in the way of disturbingly obvious invitation for her to get up and vanish instantly. As instantly as possibly.
Leaving Steve giving a sharp, bewildered look at Danny, Danny who looked tense and annoyed straight through that smile suddenly, more than at the girl who was touching him. When the search for earlier words, is utterly replaced without a need, by the necessity of handling whatever the hell that was. Is. Something.
When it's for her benefit, but he might as well be saying those words to Danny, when he's looking at Danny more than her while speaking. "You're going to have to excuse my friend here. He's had a long day."
The last words are almost seriously solid. Like a question about what the hell Danny was suddenly doing there, snapping at her like the woman had insulted his daughter or the air he was breathing. Sure, she had bad planning in wardrobe or awareness and she was being invasive, and it's not even that Steve wants her to stay. But he wouldn't have chunked her out the window like a soulless, renegade pin-pulled grenade.
no subject
When he's reminding himself at least she's so far in the category of politely pushy and not jettisoned over the line.
Enough that, just maybe, the slamming sound behind him, whatever it was. Wood and glass and sloshing beer. Snaps some of the tension from the muscles between his shoulder blades, when they nearly quiver with the strength of holding still instead of reaching out. When he's surveying her pushing her luck, thinking about commenting with either the which term of service he got it in, which won't help, or, perhaps, the number of sessions and hours it took to complete.
Because he's down to a slightly narrow eyed, staring pause, but he's not going to rudely about face away from a bar fly.
But that's a decision that is very suddenly, very verbosely, taken right out of his hands and his mouth.
When Danny rounds from behind him. Close, but not touching. Close enough this a triangle, where Danny is foisting himself half between them, her stool and the little space he was already standing between his and hers to catch her originally. Shooting off words, sharp and fast and not nearly tinted enough they aren't almsot outrightly insulting first and then bare in the way of disturbingly obvious invitation for her to get up and vanish instantly. As instantly as possibly.
Leaving Steve giving a sharp, bewildered look at Danny, Danny who looked tense and annoyed straight through that smile suddenly, more than at the girl who was touching him. When the search for earlier words, is utterly replaced without a need, by the necessity of handling whatever the hell that was. Is. Something.
When it's for her benefit, but he might as well be saying those words to Danny, when he's looking at Danny more than her while speaking. "You're going to have to excuse my friend here. He's had a long day."
The last words are almost seriously solid. Like a question about what the hell Danny was suddenly doing there, snapping at her like the woman had insulted his daughter or the air he was breathing. Sure, she had bad planning in wardrobe or awareness and she was being invasive, and it's not even that Steve wants her to stay. But he wouldn't have chunked her out the window like a soulless, renegade pin-pulled grenade.