Re: Second Class; Theater - Smoking Room
She had just settled back to sit on her heels, still close enough to feel the warmth from beneath the worn clothing he wore, a measure apart but not having fled or hid. Not from him, at least. She liked him there, his lines loose as he relaxed.
"You're one of the few," she replied, ready to talk more, to turn the thoughts over in her mind and mouth again, but then he was standing, moving away and covering his face again. She was instantly cold, goosebumps standing sentinel on her skin, but she refused to rub at it to warm herself. The beginning of the rejection in his retreat stung, brought thoughts of things from off the strange ship, and her soft, good mood was gone. She lifted to her feet, standing on the cushion to put herself taller than him, and hissed, ears back and eyes narrowed. "Go then. Get your drink." With that, she turned, padded feet quickly along the cushions in the opposite direction, and forced herself to remove herself before she could see his back walking away from her.