[It's almost automatic, his hand is actually already at the cap of the bottle. Maybe it's because sharing a drink with someone, be it a rare friend of his or someone he just met at a bar, never to be seen again, comes second nature to him. Part of the routine. Or maybe the moment she leans in just pulls at some string hooked on his clavicles to move in closer. Maybe it's both, and the closeness he's striving to avoid is suddenly there.
For someone who claims to love and live for the edge of danger, he sure feels like he's playing it safe a bit too much. It would be easy, to pull that hand towards him again, feel the weight of her on his lap and that familiar pressure of her lips against his own. No harm, no foul.
Or so a voice at the back of his mind says. He swallows hard, and before he can do anything
the bottleneck under his hand snaps, cleanly and very, very loudly.]
no subject
For someone who claims to love and live for the edge of danger, he sure feels like he's playing it safe a bit too much. It would be easy, to pull that hand towards him again, feel the weight of her on his lap and that familiar pressure of her lips against his own. No harm, no foul.
Or so a voice at the back of his mind says. He swallows hard, and before he can do anything
the bottleneck under his hand snaps, cleanly and very, very loudly.]
Uh. [How to salvage this.] Whoops.