[ say something else, as if he'd even know what it is he wants to hear, whether it's just about letting her have the chance to be free with what's on her mind or if he's seeking something from her lips, like an excuse to reason everything he's doing here, a feeling he might simply be craving in light of everything he's undergone these past few months.
that's what he decides this is all about, even if it isn't just any set of fingers touching his own around the bottle, isn't just any pair of lips rising so close to his skin to share a whisper at his ear, like he's well aware it's her with every second that passes much slower than it should. the removal of his earpiece earns a brief curious glance but his eyes close when she speaks, words without a translation, unable to pick it apart, especially as he finds himself distracted by the sound itself.
he doesn't know what she says, but the softness of it, the secretive nature in how she prevents it from being heard by the earpiece, it draws his gaze in following her when she pulls back, breath held as he searches her eyes for the intent of what she's just said. he's locked in even as the bottle meets her lips again, coaxed to lick his own like it's searching for more than the lingering taste of whiskey.
the whiskey, the music, the language — all influences that have brought him here, tucked close in her space with an untranslated message. ]
Marta. [ he whispers her name, with a quiet breath that he's never carried in the sound before, peering at her eyes like he's looking for a sign from her to tell him this is all steering the wrong way. even if he wonders about drawing away, he does anything but, fingers light against her arm with a grazing touch as he leans in closer —
"Hey, y'all! Gonna need a refill on that bottle?" says the saloon girl sliding up beside them, voice perky with a wide smile and a complete unawareness of what she's stepped in on. ]
no subject
that's what he decides this is all about, even if it isn't just any set of fingers touching his own around the bottle, isn't just any pair of lips rising so close to his skin to share a whisper at his ear, like he's well aware it's her with every second that passes much slower than it should. the removal of his earpiece earns a brief curious glance but his eyes close when she speaks, words without a translation, unable to pick it apart, especially as he finds himself distracted by the sound itself.
he doesn't know what she says, but the softness of it, the secretive nature in how she prevents it from being heard by the earpiece, it draws his gaze in following her when she pulls back, breath held as he searches her eyes for the intent of what she's just said. he's locked in even as the bottle meets her lips again, coaxed to lick his own like it's searching for more than the lingering taste of whiskey.
the whiskey, the music, the language — all influences that have brought him here, tucked close in her space with an untranslated message. ]
Marta. [ he whispers her name, with a quiet breath that he's never carried in the sound before, peering at her eyes like he's looking for a sign from her to tell him this is all steering the wrong way. even if he wonders about drawing away, he does anything but, fingers light against her arm with a grazing touch as he leans in closer —
"Hey, y'all! Gonna need a refill on that bottle?" says the saloon girl sliding up beside them, voice perky with a wide smile and a complete unawareness of what she's stepped in on. ]