Re: The Bar: Cat & Isaiah
"Are you questioning my bar? Tsk. I might get offended." She wouldn't, and her tone said as much. She watched his hand on the glass for a moment, and then her mossy gaze lifted to his face. That familiar face, and with those familiar angles, and she knew this was going to be one of those nights when the nightmares came hard and woke her breathless and sweaty. She never remembered those nightmares, and she knew that was probably for the best. But it wasn't often than the shadow of a dead man walked through her doors, not the shadow of this particular dead man, anyway.
Speaking of those doors? She glanced them. If this was one of those nights when Matt decided to come to work? Things might get problematic. She had no idea if Matt would recognize the man across the bar from her, but Matt had been at the docha at the same time as her, at the same time as Calvin. And Matt? Lately, Matt was in a draw blood first, ask questions later type of mood.
"Oh, is the pretty lady supposed to do that? See, the pretty lady doesn't think she should need to convince anyone to come see her." She lifted a casual brow, the half-shrug as casual as the conversation, and none of the undercurrent she was feeling showing itself outwardly. "So, if the only alternative is begging? The pretty lady is definitely going to have to go with Cash." Warm, warm, and her lips turned up slightly when she chuckled. "We've reached the curious part of the evening. Didn't anyone tell you cats were curious?" Another lift of elegant shoulder. "Also, it's a bartender's job to ask questions. And, you, have the opportunity to answer without it looking like you just came in here to talk my ear off. Those are the rules."