Re: O'Brien, Leah?, Open
Damn right it was. Especially when it was by someone you'd rather not be groped by-- or in her case, kissed by. And he certainly knew better than to grope a woman that he wasn't romantically or sexually involved with. He wasn't that awful. He knew better.
He smirked, "Maybe." And as far as his stories went, he usually didn't just flat out lie to children. He was usually either making up a story for their entertainment purposes, or in some cases, he'd actually told stories about saving cats from trees and the tops of buildings, etc. For some reason, the kids dug those.
"Oh, man... I hadn't even thought of the mafia since before the apocalypse. I wonder what they're all doing. They've got plenty of artillery to form an army. Hm," his brows furrowed, as he glanced away with thought. Interesting. He hadn't seen any of the guys that were well known in Manhattan... but that didn't mean anything. They probably had their own 'secret' safe house or something. He eventually turned his attention back to Leah, "if they're still around, I'm sure they've thought of it." The bastards.
"Okay, you're an Angel Fish," He lifted his brows inquisitively, as if to silently ask if that was better. "Is there such thing as Angel Sharks?" And Rodeo-- or Baby Thor, had certainly gotten under O'Brien's skin. Especially the whole bit about 'losing Leah', etc, and how that was what scared him. Okay, yeah. So what if it was? He wasn't going to admit it. Or at least not for a very long time.
"Well, yeah, but clearly it did. I have a busted nose to show for it." And he could vouch for her lips being soft and extremely kissable-- but he wasn't about to say that. He smiled, "Let me know. I'd like to be there for that."
And O'Brien just wasn't good at expressing his feelings and putting them into words. She was very pretty. She was certainly capable. Yes, she could take care of herself and then some, and she was extremely fuckable. As far as being an intellectual went-- how would he know? She didn't talk to him. Not really. And a Strategist, sure. He'd give her that. She got them both safely away from that pharmacy, didn't she? And, well, to be honest, she hadn't really been all that nice to him.. surely she knew that.
He pursed his lips, thinking a moment, "Lie to you about what?" He motioned to her, "see... You, Miss Machete, care." He smiled, "You care. You probably don't like to hear that. But you're caring. I mean.. if you didn't care at least a little, you would have screwed me over in that Pharmacy, and not given a damn what happened. So Yeah, I like you. I like you because you saved my life, you cared, you're pretty, and yeah."
He sighed, motioning to her, "you could at least try to enjoy yourself, if you have to be here. What else is there to do, these days? I'm not a party person, either... Someone used to hand me an invitation to a party, i'd toss it into the trash. But now? You know what? i'm thankful for stuff like this. Eight years ago, you wouldn't find me at something like this. You would have had to pay me. A year ago, today, you know where I was? Holed up on my family's farm with no one but the fucking rookie cop that shot me. I would have killed for someone else to talk to, that wasn't whining about missing their girlfriend they'd been dating for a month, when the apocalypse hit. So I'm here, now. I don't know why-- because seriously, I should be dead. But i'm here. And I'm going to try and make the best of it. And-- you know.. maybe be a little nicer." Because he'd been a little bit of an ass before the apocalypse. More so than he was now.
"That's okay. We can argue. At least you'd be talking to me." he shrugged, "So yeah. I'd like it if you stayed. Believe it or not, I actually enjoy your company. You don't always say the nicest things... but I like having you around."