// You could be lonely, or heartbroken—Or hungover from the night before //
She smiles back at him, but it's tight, and shallow. "Guess I heard right," she says calmly, head tilting slightly as her gaze skims over him with the shameless intent of committing it to memory—not unlike a girl might before leaning in to say something husky and sweet. She even pivots towards him a bit more, a signal for continued conversation, usually a greenlight for interest.
Instead, one foot kicks toward his stool, her toe hooking the bottom rung as she drives her leg upward to topple it out from under him. In the same motion, her other foot hits the ground, jolting her out of her seat. She lunges toward him, all her weight behind the hand still wrapped around the cool glass bottle, swinging it from the counter toward the side of his head. She aims for his temple, keen to knock him into darkness. If not, well—maybe he’s still toppled, and she’ll get the pleasure of pinning her boot to his groin just to watch him squirm.
"You should talk less."
Instead, one foot kicks toward his stool, her toe hooking the bottom rung as she drives her leg upward to topple it out from under him. In the same motion, her other foot hits the ground, jolting her out of her seat. She lunges toward him, all her weight behind the hand still wrapped around the cool glass bottle, swinging it from the counter toward the side of his head. She aims for his temple, keen to knock him into darkness. If not, well—maybe he’s still toppled, and she’ll get the pleasure of pinning her boot to his groin just to watch him squirm.
"You should talk less."
COLT
// Turn that frown into a smile real quick—There ain't nothin' that a beer can't fix //
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
