[ kovacs is already familiar with beats like these, with men that seek trouble in all kinds of ways just for the chance to prove themselves, to show they're man enough without someone undermining their pride. as soon as the man's snapping words are out, he knows there's the promise of an incoming fight on the horizon.
but what does surprise him is the way that marta suddenly rises up, sliding herself off from the table to take the initiative, watching her hand off the body in compromise. when she turns to him, posing that question, he almost loses himself in staring at her again, alcohol buzzing in his head once more. ]
Yeah. Let's go.
[ he's already moving to swap their positions, fingers sliding light against her back as he steps behind her. it'd be ideal if her words could be enough, if a peace offering of liquor would mean moving on with the night, seeking out the privacy of his room (and trying not to wonder what that would entail after the way everything has moved between them tonight).
but despite the drink in his belly, his envoy intuition isn't entirely shut up, sensing the feet of feet behind them, the weight of one firm on the ground as movement creeps up behind him. he turns swiftly in tune with his senses and quickly snags the man by the wrist, halting the swing that would have slammed the bottle directly on his head.
so much for a peace offering. curling his free fingers into a fist, he curves it into a swing, knuckles meeting the man's face, forcing him to stumble back. ]
no subject
but what does surprise him is the way that marta suddenly rises up, sliding herself off from the table to take the initiative, watching her hand off the body in compromise. when she turns to him, posing that question, he almost loses himself in staring at her again, alcohol buzzing in his head once more. ]
Yeah. Let's go.
[ he's already moving to swap their positions, fingers sliding light against her back as he steps behind her. it'd be ideal if her words could be enough, if a peace offering of liquor would mean moving on with the night, seeking out the privacy of his room (and trying not to wonder what that would entail after the way everything has moved between them tonight).
but despite the drink in his belly, his envoy intuition isn't entirely shut up, sensing the feet of feet behind them, the weight of one firm on the ground as movement creeps up behind him. he turns swiftly in tune with his senses and quickly snags the man by the wrist, halting the swing that would have slammed the bottle directly on his head.
so much for a peace offering. curling his free fingers into a fist, he curves it into a swing, knuckles meeting the man's face, forcing him to stumble back. ]