Re: The Cat: Matt & Cat
Most days, Cat couldn't tell where the image she painted ended, where she began. Most days, it didn't matter. And tonight? Tonight she was here, in her setting, in her element. Tonight? She was the entrepreneur. She was the businesswoman, and she knew how to keep her clients entertained. Oh, being a success? It was about more than pouring a beer, and it was about more than filling a glass.
And she was focused, so she didn't notice that blink of his, and she didn't have a chance to worry about what it might mean. She was busy teasing him about his passivity, and she was keeping an eye on the crowded surroundings, and she? Could multitask. Thanks New Jersey.
One drink, and he frowned, and she chuckled.
She was at the pool table by the time the bourbon came, heavy and strong, and she had to drink and insane amount to get drunk. But she could still feel the warm of a drink settling in her belly, and she liked the feeling. The hedonist in her had a fondness for the burn, and that wasn't at all surprising, was it? She took a long drink, and there was nothing dainty female about that swallow. She slipped out of the oversized shirt, leaving a grey tank behind, ribbed and thin, and it was hot in the bar.
He placed his bet, and she chalked her stick, and the men took him up on the bet. "If I do?" she asked, mossy gaze slipping to where he knocked on the table, then rising again. But she didn't wait for his answer. Instead? She broke, called solids, and refrained from running the table - despite the fact that she absolutely could, and despite the fact that he probably knew she let the opportunity slip through her fingers. But she was playing a game now, and it had nothing to do with the green felt.