Re: Second Class; Theater - Smoking Room
He was too comfortable. He was in her space, when she clearly did not recall inviting him, but he didn't push. He didn't stroke the wrong way just for the sheer thrill of setting her anger afire. He was loose and present in his space, a sprawl of man that was used to taking up too much room. It made those gold eyes narrow again, insisting to herself that he should not be so comfortable in territory that was so obviously claimed as hers.
"As if you could keep a cat." Derisive, delicate but stubborn chin inching up as she set the glass aside. "You're a foolish man to think anyone could." His own comfort set the top flare of her nerves at ease, and with unwinding tail, she released her legs to tuck them to the side and turn toward him. It brought her closer, the warmth of her body gathering in the narrow valley that kept them still from actually touching. It was the tug at the scarf that had caught her attention, and after nestling the still mostly-full glass between her leg and the back of the seat, she raised her hand with one extended finger toward him. Her nail could have snagged the fabric and pulled it away, but she simply tapped the fabric where it hid his jaw. Her eyebrows lifted, two perfectly dark arches that asked just as well as words why he was hiding.