[She doesn't do anything, just goes still, watching him approach because she knows what he's planning to do and isn't sure how to react. If anything, it's a surprise - and a relief? - that he just kisses her cheek, enough that she actually remembers things like breathing are necessary.]
Saul. [There's something a little pleading in it, but not like when she was teasing him, it's more don't do this.
She can't-- doesn't know what to do, so she just lets out a shaky breath, copes the way she always does and tries to ignore how white her knuckles must be around the bottle.] You know, I don't think that's the typical response when people are jerks to you.
[Since that's basically what she's been, coming in here and dumping all her nonsense on him.]
[Saul remains close for a few seconds — close enough that she'll be able to feel his breath on her skin — and laughs quietly. Really, Steph? All those exes, and his reaction is surprising?
He backs away, then, with his hands at his sides and a little smile on his face.]
Being emotionally healthy is overrated. Which is probably why he's tempted to move in again, distract her, mumble that she needs to cut this shit out —
Instead:] It's a shame my bodyguard isn't here. You two would get along so well.
[For a moment, she doesn't say anything, just clenches and unclenches the hand that isn't holding the bottle, watching her skin pull over her knuckles.]
Maybe I should've been a bodyguard instead of a vigilante.
[She's just - saying things, not really thinking; there are too many other thoughts in her head to actually focus.]
[Speaking of the bottle, he'd like to take that from her before she either 1) finishes drinking it, 2) breaks it, or 3) breaks it on him. Nothing's out of the question, at this point.
The touch startles her enough that she actually looks at him, a little bit deer-in-headlights, gaze searching, before she looks away again. She opens her mouth to say yeah, but the word sticks in her throat, so she just wordlessly turns her wrist until the bottle is facing him, offering it without having moved her hand away from his.]
I got lucky, the fabric store was all out of orange.
[It's a reference he won't understand, not when he doesn't know her world, but she's having a little trouble stringing a coherent sentence together when he's distracting her.
From the way her gaze is so dutifully focused on a spot over his shoulder, you'd think there was something fascinating there, but she just can't bring herself to look at him or at where his thumb is pressed against her skin.]
Orange? [He wrinkles his nose.] That's not a good color for you.
[Not a good color for anyone, really.
And while she's pointedly not looking at him, he's doing the opposite — watching her expression carefully, thumb coming to rest briefly against her pulse point. Like he's checking it.]
[Any other time and she might've made a comment about how she could definitely make orange work, but that feels like dangerous territory.]
You shouldn't test people's pulses with your thumb. [The words are mumbled, an automatic response to what he's doing, because she's had odd facts drilled into her from her mom, Leslie, Bruce. As soon as she actually realizes she's said it, she swallows.] Um...
[She's pretty sure she's just operating on auto-pilot at this point, so the offer to talk about random medical trivia instead of thinking about everything else that's happening right now is a welcome distraction.]
You've got your own pulse in your thumb, so you can get them confused, end up measuring your own heart rate instead of the patient's.
[Patient.
Nevermind that is not the scenario here at all.
She really wants to take another drink, but that would require pulling her hand away from his.]
[No more talk about colors. He really doesn't like orange.
It looks like he's considering what she just said for a few moments, eyes drifting down toward her hand. And who knows what weird conclusion about biology he just came to, but the end result is this: he lifts her hand a little and bends, mouth meeting the skin of her wrist halfway.
[This is kind of beyond what she can pretend isn't happening, not when he's kissing her wrist, not when she's shifting her grip on the bottle to make that easier for him to do.
She wonders if Kara can hear how jumpy her heart-rate must be, and really hopes her best friend doesn't decide she needs rescuing.
Or maybe that would be better. If awkward.
God help her.]
You-- [What? She has literally no idea where to go with that sentence and just ends up biting her lip instead. It would be really great if she could just drink a little more.
[Saul is pretty convinced, by now, that this is the worst idea ever. Considering the circumstances, and the alcohol, and everything, this is stupid. Reckless. Maybe even a little mean.
But he can't —
No; revise. He doesn't want to stop. That's the problem. It's not that he can't, because he could. But Steph's always so cool, so on her game, so good at throwing him off his that this whole scenario has him giddy. Literally. Never mind all the emotional unloading happening, here.
He kisses up to where her sleeve begins, then pauses and glances up at her, eyebrows raised as if to say, Me?
[She can't ever tell Ellie about this. The realization makes her chest feel too tight, and it doesn't matter if they're not officially together, because this isn't the same as kissing Vanadi while things were still uncertain. This is something else entirely.]
Why are you doing this?
[Turning his own words back on him, albeit changed a little, and there's no accusation in her voice, she just sounds lost.]
It's why she lets him take the bottle, why she doesn't pull her wrist away even though she really should. There's a brief moment where her expression nearly crumples, but she bites her lip hard, forcing herself steady.]
You know I can't.
[Can't... do this, whatever it is. It's too complicated with everything in her past and everything that's happened her, and that's not even touching on the issue with Ellie. She loves her, she does so it should make it easier to pull away from Saul, now, except it doesn't at all.
[With the way he's watching her, nothing goes unnoticed. Certainly not the way her expression shifts. And that actually makes him hesitate, because her answer is... weird. It's not really what he asked.
All things considered, he thinks he knows what she means.
So he should stop. He really, really should.
And he does, sort of. Saul releases her hand and straightens a little, suddenly expectant. Waiting. The ball's in her court, so to speak.]
[When he lets go of her wrist, it's a bit like a switch has been flipped and she manages to move back, at least until she hits the wall, wrapping her arms around herself.]
Got what you wanted?
[Maybe she means the bottle of scotch that he took from her, since that's where her gaze goes, but there's too much bitterness in her tone for it to be that simple.
She's not being fair and she knows it, but she doesn't know what he wants from her and that's a little scary.]
[Ouch. That actually makes him flinch. For a long moment, he looks genuinely apologetic and actually a little hurt.
And then he looks... annoyed, maybe, thanks to the way his eyes narrow just slightly. He has to literally bite his tongue to keep from snapping back at her: Did you?
And if she were anyone else, that's exactly what he'd say.
But —
It's his turn to choke the bottle.]
I don't want anything from you. That's the problem.
[It's easier to look at him when she's got that little bit of anger to hold onto, but it means that she doesn't miss that hurt look. She should say sorry, should apologize for being a bitch, that would mean admitting that she's not really angry at him, and she's not ready the do that.]
Then what was all that about? If you don't--
[She trails off, waving a hand through the air to convey the sentence she didn't finish.
That's not what she meant and she knows it, but she didn't know what else to say.]
But he stops with some distance between them, because — not when she's on guard like that, no way. In fact, he even realizes what a stupid idea that was and takes one step back.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
controlledvariable) wrote2014-02-02 07:59 pm
no subject
Saul. [There's something a little pleading in it, but not like when she was teasing him, it's more don't do this.
She can't-- doesn't know what to do, so she just lets out a shaky breath, copes the way she always does and tries to ignore how white her knuckles must be around the bottle.] You know, I don't think that's the typical response when people are jerks to you.
[Since that's basically what she's been, coming in here and dumping all her nonsense on him.]
no subject
He backs away, then, with his hands at his sides and a little smile on his face.]
I know plenty of jerks. You're nothing like them.
no subject
(The most worrying thing is the urge to kiss him, not when she knows how heartbroken Ellie would be.)
It's a relief when he moves away, even if she's also pretending a part of her isn't disappointed.]
That's 'cause you haven't seen me beat a guy senseless just 'cause he wouldn't tell me what I wanted to hear.
[Throwing facts like that at people as if they're weapons isn't a good way to cope, but she never pretended to be emotionally healthy.]
no subject
Being emotionally healthy is overrated. Which is probably why he's tempted to move in again, distract her, mumble that she needs to cut this shit out —
Instead:] It's a shame my bodyguard isn't here. You two would get along so well.
no subject
Maybe I should've been a bodyguard instead of a vigilante.
[She's just - saying things, not really thinking; there are too many other thoughts in her head to actually focus.]
no subject
[Speaking of the bottle, he'd like to take that from her before she either 1) finishes drinking it, 2) breaks it, or 3) breaks it on him. Nothing's out of the question, at this point.
So.
He reaches out and touches her fingers.]
Can I have that back?
no subject
[She would make a terrible supervillain.
The touch startles her enough that she actually looks at him, a little bit deer-in-headlights, gaze searching, before she looks away again. She opens her mouth to say yeah, but the word sticks in her throat, so she just wordlessly turns her wrist until the bottle is facing him, offering it without having moved her hand away from his.]
no subject
[Saul hears that a lot: could've. People can be so much worse than they are — him included. But you make choices, right?
Just like he's chosen to draw circles against her wrist with his thumb instead of actually taking the damn bottle like he wanted to.
Or maybe this is what he wanted to really do.
He's not sure.]
no subject
[It's a reference he won't understand, not when he doesn't know her world, but she's having a little trouble stringing a coherent sentence together when he's distracting her.
From the way her gaze is so dutifully focused on a spot over his shoulder, you'd think there was something fascinating there, but she just can't bring herself to look at him or at where his thumb is pressed against her skin.]
no subject
[Not a good color for anyone, really.
And while she's pointedly not looking at him, he's doing the opposite — watching her expression carefully, thumb coming to rest briefly against her pulse point. Like he's checking it.]
no subject
[Any other time and she might've made a comment about how she could definitely make orange work, but that feels like dangerous territory.]
You shouldn't test people's pulses with your thumb. [The words are mumbled, an automatic response to what he's doing, because she's had odd facts drilled into her from her mom, Leslie, Bruce. As soon as she actually realizes she's said it, she swallows.] Um...
[Nope. That's all she's got.]
no subject
[It's a dangerous thing, when Saul is focused. Even her next comment doesn't throw him off. She caught him. So what?
The result is, instead, a slight tilt of his head.]
Why not?
no subject
[She's pretty sure she's just operating on auto-pilot at this point, so the offer to talk about random medical trivia instead of thinking about everything else that's happening right now is a welcome distraction.]
You've got your own pulse in your thumb, so you can get them confused, end up measuring your own heart rate instead of the patient's.
[Patient.
Nevermind that is not the scenario here at all.
She really wants to take another drink, but that would require pulling her hand away from his.]
no subject
It looks like he's considering what she just said for a few moments, eyes drifting down toward her hand. And who knows what weird conclusion about biology he just came to, but the end result is this: he lifts her hand a little and bends, mouth meeting the skin of her wrist halfway.
There's no pulse in lips, right?
So this is way more accurate.]
no subject
She wonders if Kara can hear how jumpy her heart-rate must be, and really hopes her best friend doesn't decide she needs rescuing.
Or maybe that would be better. If awkward.
God help her.]
You-- [What? She has literally no idea where to go with that sentence and just ends up biting her lip instead. It would be really great if she could just drink a little more.
Or a lot more.]
no subject
But he can't —
No; revise. He doesn't want to stop. That's the problem. It's not that he can't, because he could. But Steph's always so cool, so on her game, so good at throwing him off his that this whole scenario has him giddy. Literally. Never mind all the emotional unloading happening, here.
He kisses up to where her sleeve begins, then pauses and glances up at her, eyebrows raised as if to say, Me?
Dick.]
no subject
Why are you doing this?
[Turning his own words back on him, albeit changed a little, and there's no accusation in her voice, she just sounds lost.]
no subject
Except she obviously does, somehow.
What a weird thought.
He finally takes the bottle with his free hand, but doesn't relinquish his lazy grip on her wrist just yet.]
Do you want me to stop?
[All she has to do is say the word, and he will.]
no subject
It's why she lets him take the bottle, why she doesn't pull her wrist away even though she really should. There's a brief moment where her expression nearly crumples, but she bites her lip hard, forcing herself steady.]
You know I can't.
[Can't... do this, whatever it is. It's too complicated with everything in her past and everything that's happened her, and that's not even touching on the issue with Ellie. She loves her, she does so it should make it easier to pull away from Saul, now, except it doesn't at all.
She feels awful.]
no subject
All things considered, he thinks he knows what she means.
So he should stop. He really, really should.
And he does, sort of. Saul releases her hand and straightens a little, suddenly expectant. Waiting. The ball's in her court, so to speak.]
no subject
Got what you wanted?
[Maybe she means the bottle of scotch that he took from her, since that's where her gaze goes, but there's too much bitterness in her tone for it to be that simple.
She's not being fair and she knows it, but she doesn't know what he wants from her and that's a little scary.]
no subject
And then he looks... annoyed, maybe, thanks to the way his eyes narrow just slightly. He has to literally bite his tongue to keep from snapping back at her: Did you?
And if she were anyone else, that's exactly what he'd say.
But —
It's his turn to choke the bottle.]
I don't want anything from you. That's the problem.
no subject
Then what was all that about? If you don't--
[She trails off, waving a hand through the air to convey the sentence she didn't finish.
That's not what she meant and she knows it, but she didn't know what else to say.]
no subject
[He sets the bottle down, inches closer again.
Like an idiot.
But he stops with some distance between them, because — not when she's on guard like that, no way. In fact, he even realizes what a stupid idea that was and takes one step back.]
You really can't tell?
no subject
[Quiet and plaintive, as she drops her face into her hands for a moment, pressing her fingers hard against her closed eyelids until she sees stars.]
Maybe you should use small words.
[There's the bitterness again, but it's directed at herself, because she's a fucking idiot.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
GO BACK TO SLEEP
I am trying ;A;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)