Re: Mean-Eyed Cat: Cat & Reece E
Reece didn't lack for boldness. Not really. There he was, one black metal arm and one freon blue eye, wearing more layers than any man shoulder and gator-skin boots. He wasn't spineless either, as much as he may have appeared so, tall man, practically twice the woman's size and doing nothing more than chalking himself with more blue as he tried to dust himself off. But, he was practical, and going along was better for him too.—To be sure, he couldn't let Dane Blake know he'd let the papers get away from him, and he needed a good reputation to fling himself up the rungs he wanted flung up. (That sounded kind of hilarious, didn't it? Anyway.) Cat had picked her mark well. but perhaps not for the reasons she thought. Reece would lie down and roll over because it suited him, when she likely thought it was nothing but fear.
But, he wasn't worried about her not knowing him well or even at all. Again, it could've been the whiskey or it could've just been a miscalculation on his part that this bit of blackmail wasn't really that big of a deal—in that, she wasn't really asking all that much from him, but, either way, he rolled his eyes at her when she laughed, and he sat.
The fondness that softened Cat's features was nice, he thought, and it vaguely made Reece wish he had siblings, someone who liked you no matter what. But, that quirked brow, and all of that was enough for him to put his hands up, as mismatched as his eyes.
"I didn't say you aren't alike. I said you don't act alike. And here I thought you were good with details." He smiled, shifting now to prop his cheek with his knuckles as she sank the last ball. He'd lost, but he didn't seem to notice or mind. "You do your smooth-talking thing, sly and cheeky, and she's... brash. But, like I said, 'act,' right? Because I can tell you two don't do like, friends."