Accompanied by an airy wave of one hand. "I'll just sweat all over the seat. That'll dry me off fine."
As if he cares. As if she does. As if they both haven't seen so much worse and so much messier, but that's hardly the point, when they aren't working, when the grime is just from clean sweat and exercise and not from gunpowder and blood.
In some ways, she thinks she's got a better handle on civilian life than Steve does, the comparisons that do and don't matter, or make sense, but then, she hasn't done the things he's done, no matter how she might work at keeping up with him.
Half the bottle is downed before she caps it again, considers pouring the remaining water over her head, sure it might evaporate in a cloud of steam before even hitting her skin. Heat's wavering off her body and off the parking lot, and all she really wants to do is get out of it, dive into the cool fresh water she can see in the distance, indulge in a shower. "It can wait for a shower or a swim."
Half ready to find some water right now. She never feels more like she's half-dolphin than when she's been on land for more than twenty-four hours, and part of her is edgy, wanting the ocean, the calm blue bowl and the sensation of weightlessness.
Steve's beach will do nicely, but she's about ready to get back to it, so she heads to the passenger side, cracking the door.
no subject
Accompanied by an airy wave of one hand. "I'll just sweat all over the seat. That'll dry me off fine."
As if he cares. As if she does. As if they both haven't seen so much worse and so much messier, but that's hardly the point, when they aren't working, when the grime is just from clean sweat and exercise and not from gunpowder and blood.
In some ways, she thinks she's got a better handle on civilian life than Steve does, the comparisons that do and don't matter, or make sense, but then, she hasn't done the things he's done, no matter how she might work at keeping up with him.
Half the bottle is downed before she caps it again, considers pouring the remaining water over her head, sure it might evaporate in a cloud of steam before even hitting her skin. Heat's wavering off her body and off the parking lot, and all she really wants to do is get out of it, dive into the cool fresh water she can see in the distance, indulge in a shower. "It can wait for a shower or a swim."
Half ready to find some water right now. She never feels more like she's half-dolphin than when she's been on land for more than twenty-four hours, and part of her is edgy, wanting the ocean, the calm blue bowl and the sensation of weightlessness.
Steve's beach will do nicely, but she's about ready to get back to it, so she heads to the passenger side, cracking the door.