"I'm going to be honest, I remember about half of it." She squints down at him - she's a half hand taller, slightly more in the plated armor. "But that might have something to do with the cocktail menu thing."
But she's got the important parts nailed down. Figures the rest, like how many credits she blew on quasar or anyone she might have room a swing at or how they'd gotten from the casino bar back to their crappy shared suite, was pretty irrelevant. She remembered the good parts. She remembers the look at his face, mostly; he'd looked like he's been on the receiving end of a gut punch.
The thought of the sentimentality of him bringing it up or maybe just his arm around her again has the line of her mouth going crooked and easy. Small smile, cocked eyebrow - more smug than anything else as she slings her arm easy across his shoulder, cool underside of her reinforced gloved fingers catching at the back of his neck. It's an easy point of contact, all faux nonchalance.
He leans into it easy. Head turning to drag his cheek against the smooth cool line of her armor. Yes, the reapers have blown it up, yes the collectors probably dragged off the bar tender that stuck umbrellas in the side of their glass. No, no they're not getting off earth ever again.
He lent his weight comfortable against the table, balancing their weight against it's edge. Despite it all, he snorts brief in laughter at her response, puff of breath that fogs on her armor.
So because nothing else matters more than this - "I'm getting us two tickets." Really, this time. Flicks his tongue against the flat line of his mouth, suddenly dry. Ah, hell. "Saved up for it. The one with the better view." His hand settles flat to her back, bracing on the cool armor and - maybe skin would be better. Lowers his eyes, shakes his head, absent thought that pulls up another laugh.
It's a tomorrow. What a terrible, awful, painful thing.
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But she's got the important parts nailed down. Figures the rest, like how many credits she blew on quasar or anyone she might have room a swing at or how they'd gotten from the casino bar back to their crappy shared suite, was pretty irrelevant. She remembered the good parts. She remembers the look at his face, mostly; he'd looked like he's been on the receiving end of a gut punch.
The thought of the sentimentality of him bringing it up or maybe just his arm around her again has the line of her mouth going crooked and easy. Small smile, cocked eyebrow - more smug than anything else as she slings her arm easy across his shoulder, cool underside of her reinforced gloved fingers catching at the back of his neck. It's an easy point of contact, all faux nonchalance.
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He lent his weight comfortable against the table, balancing their weight against it's edge. Despite it all, he snorts brief in laughter at her response, puff of breath that fogs on her armor.
So because nothing else matters more than this - "I'm getting us two tickets." Really, this time. Flicks his tongue against the flat line of his mouth, suddenly dry. Ah, hell. "Saved up for it. The one with the better view." His hand settles flat to her back, bracing on the cool armor and - maybe skin would be better. Lowers his eyes, shakes his head, absent thought that pulls up another laugh.
It's a tomorrow. What a terrible, awful, painful thing.