There are a lot of responses he could make. Hand out. Ranging from the mildly dismissive to the outright rude, verging on an avalanche of words, all of which he could toss like darts at her head. Or, more likely, Steve's. Who accepts her challenge like he accepts every challenge ever laid across his path -- without question or much in the way of hesitation and, fine. They're at a bar, it's not unheard of, might even be the most normal way for this night to go, right?
What's one game of pool?
One game of pool that could easily turn into two, and drinks, and talking, and -- he is thinking way too hard about this, should just have cut her off like he did before, except that really? is sticking in his gullet like the scraping edge of a popcorn shell, and, fine, he might have been out of line before. It doesn't stop him wanting to shove his way back out there, again, when Lani is smiling at Steve's agreement and her eyes travel lazily over the flat line of his back as he leans to take his shot, and, really, couldn't she have some priors, a DUI, shoplifting, something little that he can call Chin and have him check?
"Your funeral," he tells her, the closest to conversational that he can drag, reluctant, cat claws catching the words along his ribs, and it comes out both flat and sharp, which he can't even feel guilty about, though he probably should. Manners, Daniel, says that voice in his head that still sounds like Rachel after all these years, which only makes him want to be even worse, because of all people to scold him, she has got the least possible amount of leg to stand on, and, Christ, he needs to get some air, or something, because this is all starting to spiral into something he really can't deal with, once Rachel comes into the mix.
"Knock yourself out," he adds, to the table at large, and sets his own cue against the rack, shaking his empty bottle. "I'm getting a refill."
He knows what he's doing. Knows the polite thing would be to point to Lani and ask what she's drinking, grab one for her, too, but he bypasses it, because she's already here, hell if he's giving her a reason to stick around further than the ones Steve is offering, which. It's not like he's exactly inviting, per se. He's not picking up what she's laying down, but he's definitely not pushing it off, either, and it's true. Maybe Danny should be paying more attention. Right? In the spirit of friendly competition, if nothing else, vying for the attention of a pretty girl, which he, seriously, could not care less about. He was never good at this part, anyway: too tongue-tied by the women who whacked him over the head at first glance, too impatient with the game to play it with anyone who didn't.
It would be natural. Acceptable. If he were to bring something back for her and throw himself into the mix. She's probably expecting it, even, it being the normal way of things. Obviously she's got her sights set on Steve, but it's part of the play, isn't it?
When he does. Want to shove his way in, stake a claim, plant his feet stubbornly and refuse to move -- but from the other side. Making it hard enough to peel away and head to the bar, fingers drumming on the slick surface as he waits for the 'tender to come by (without Steve around, she seems to be taking her sweet time), and then again for two more beers. Glancing around to see if Steve's cleared the table yet, before heading back that way, ending up somewhere between Steve and Lani, though she's around the corner from him. Putting Steve's fresh pint -- what? He can drink it or not, whatever, it's not like Danny wasn't going to be paying for his next drink anyway, regardless of what other offers might come in -- down within easy reach, and regarding the table and the two of them with a feeling of heading, once more, into the breach.
Fine. He can deal with this, dammit, but he's not going to make it easy. "So are you going to be a gentleman and let her break, or what? And, for the love of God," he puts his hands together, bottle in the way, but whatever, shakes them, almost close enough to let his fingertips brush Steve's arm.
"Do not make this unfortunate girl cough up seventy-five cents. I know you have at least that in you, right, Steven?"
Hypocritical, after he didn't get her a drink, or offer, or really do anything but reference her, but it's not like he's going to just be a non-entity in all this.
no subject
What's one game of pool?
One game of pool that could easily turn into two, and drinks, and talking, and -- he is thinking way too hard about this, should just have cut her off like he did before, except that really? is sticking in his gullet like the scraping edge of a popcorn shell, and, fine, he might have been out of line before. It doesn't stop him wanting to shove his way back out there, again, when Lani is smiling at Steve's agreement and her eyes travel lazily over the flat line of his back as he leans to take his shot, and, really, couldn't she have some priors, a DUI, shoplifting, something little that he can call Chin and have him check?
"Your funeral," he tells her, the closest to conversational that he can drag, reluctant, cat claws catching the words along his ribs, and it comes out both flat and sharp, which he can't even feel guilty about, though he probably should. Manners, Daniel, says that voice in his head that still sounds like Rachel after all these years, which only makes him want to be even worse, because of all people to scold him, she has got the least possible amount of leg to stand on, and, Christ, he needs to get some air, or something, because this is all starting to spiral into something he really can't deal with, once Rachel comes into the mix.
"Knock yourself out," he adds, to the table at large, and sets his own cue against the rack, shaking his empty bottle. "I'm getting a refill."
He knows what he's doing. Knows the polite thing would be to point to Lani and ask what she's drinking, grab one for her, too, but he bypasses it, because she's already here, hell if he's giving her a reason to stick around further than the ones Steve is offering, which. It's not like he's exactly inviting, per se. He's not picking up what she's laying down, but he's definitely not pushing it off, either, and it's true. Maybe Danny should be paying more attention. Right? In the spirit of friendly competition, if nothing else, vying for the attention of a pretty girl, which he, seriously, could not care less about. He was never good at this part, anyway: too tongue-tied by the women who whacked him over the head at first glance, too impatient with the game to play it with anyone who didn't.
It would be natural. Acceptable. If he were to bring something back for her and throw himself into the mix. She's probably expecting it, even, it being the normal way of things. Obviously she's got her sights set on Steve, but it's part of the play, isn't it?
When he does. Want to shove his way in, stake a claim, plant his feet stubbornly and refuse to move -- but from the other side. Making it hard enough to peel away and head to the bar, fingers drumming on the slick surface as he waits for the 'tender to come by (without Steve around, she seems to be taking her sweet time), and then again for two more beers. Glancing around to see if Steve's cleared the table yet, before heading back that way, ending up somewhere between Steve and Lani, though she's around the corner from him. Putting Steve's fresh pint -- what? He can drink it or not, whatever, it's not like Danny wasn't going to be paying for his next drink anyway, regardless of what other offers might come in -- down within easy reach, and regarding the table and the two of them with a feeling of heading, once more, into the breach.
Fine. He can deal with this, dammit, but he's not going to make it easy. "So are you going to be a gentleman and let her break, or what? And, for the love of God," he puts his hands together, bottle in the way, but whatever, shakes them, almost close enough to let his fingertips brush Steve's arm.
"Do not make this unfortunate girl cough up seventy-five cents. I know you have at least that in you, right, Steven?"
Hypocritical, after he didn't get her a drink, or offer, or really do anything but reference her, but it's not like he's going to just be a non-entity in all this.