preston rawlings, psychic accountant (ex_clerk820) wrote in rooms,
Re: Hotel: meet n' greet
[Preston's blue eyes grew an edge of disbelief as Steve claimed he had been mistaken for someone else before. This guy had to be kidding. Look at the boy scout smile. The haircut! The muscles. Were said people blind?
More was explained as the red-head made her entrance. Dear God, were these people all supernaturally beautiful? Preston blinked three times and tried not to stare, managing instead only to meet Natasha's eyes and read there a guarded measuring he'd seen a billion times before. She reminded him a lot of Max, which probably meant the two didn't get along, and the thought made Preston a little depressed. Chances were good he, and the rest of the "Deadlist" as they called themselves, were not likely to get along with very many people that easily in the near future.]
Hi. [The redhead gets a nod of greeting but he's not going to let her stand back there and pretend he doesn't see her. He recognized Natasha from Tony's description (most of which was an embittered/enamored inner dialogue). Hello, professional spy.]
[Back to Steve as he took his hand back, and Preston's weak smile grew a little bit of heart.] Everyone from Boston is required to be a Red Sox fan. If they find out otherwise they string people up from flagpoles in front of Fenway. I'm hoping your town isn't the same way. [And there's Preston's professional, making a solid appearance at the bottom of the second inning. Preston gestured at the dusty but comfortable chairs drawn up around a scarred coffee table covered in dust.] Have a seat, Captain.