Re: Mean-Eyed Cat: steph/cat
[Cat hadn't been in the bar in a very long time. But it was a funny thing, wasn't it? That she'd walked through the doors and felt as if she'd never left. And, knowing Stephanie was coming, she'd given the others the rest of the night off. Shooed them out the door, replaced Johnny with Etta, and pulled out her best single-malt and tequila, along with two shot glasses.
The bar was still hers. She had a soft spot for it, for the people in this strange little town, and she wouldn't give it away. And she was young again, but there was a renewal of age in her mossy green eyes. Aging up had changed her, because change was inevitable, and she stood there in designer jeans and a black tank, bared stomach toned and her hair loose around her shoulders. 21 and mid-40s, and hello world. And it was warm and sticky in the bar, the scent of booze clinging sweet to the skin, and she watched Stephanie sidle up and sit.
Cat poured them each a shot, and she leaned against the shiny wood on the inside of the bar, bare elbows sticking slightly to the slick varnish. She lifted her shot glass in a silent toast, and she swallowed it back in one gulp. It burned beautifully, and then she gave the blonde her complete attention. She nodded toward the tequila.] Well, how many of those do you need before you start talking?