Re: Bar: Cat/Matt
Cat had found it easy to get accustomed to this place. Small, crowded, intimate. Nothing like big city gaming halls, and nothing like the places life had taken her. There was nothing that couldn't be seen here without moving. All it took? Was one mossy slip of her gaze, and she could take in the entire bar. Her kingdom was small, but it was most certainly hers, and she found a strange and unexpected comfort in that. The bar, it didn't belong to Uncle Sam, and it had nothing to do with the Russians. And, yes, it was part of a front, part of a cover, but it was her cover, and she was free to fall in love with it, and she had.
And maybe that was written on her skin, printed in that sway. She wasn't running anything illegal out of this space. The patrons didn't get handsy, not if they wanted to keep their hands, and the IDs were always checked. She could smile at the lawmen that came in, and she could do it with the knowledge that every last thing here was aboveboard.
For her? It was a novelty, and she hadn't tired of it yet.
It also meant she socialized, but this wasn't an owner checking on the status of someone's beer. No, this wasn't that at all. She didn't know what it was, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. She smelled of spices, of music, exotic, but she didn't think it was her bath oil that had him looking at her like that, leaning. And she didn't think it was attraction, either. She quirked a dark brow, one over perfectly lined eyes with dark wings at the tips. "The Cat. Do you like her?" Her grin was lush, teasing, and her voice was husky confidence over Cash's grit and growl. She looked around the bar, enjoying the double meaning; it was what she hadn't changed the bar's theme, after all. Well, that and town history.
"Have we met?" Casual, despite knowing they hadn't. Well, not here, anyway. Perhaps somewhere forgotten, and she was instinct. She followed where that instinct led, and it led to having met the man with the dark gloves and messy hair before. And that? That could be a very big problem. But she wasn't jumping the gun, and her smile remained warm, inviting, even. Tell me things, and she tapped the bar and motioned for two shots and chasers, wordless.