It's an old trick. The oldest, maybe. If you want to know something, put pressure on a different area, and see what reacts and how.
Maybe she should feel bad, resorting to interrogation methods with Steve, but the walls he'd thrown up even before she knew who he's involved with defined his position pretty clearly: that he doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to give details, and anything she wants to hear is going to have to be dragged out of him inch by reluctant inch.
His annoyance at her insinuation doesn't pan out, though. He doesn't defend himself, or argue, doesn't suggest that Danny might be different, in anyway, and she can't help feeling a slight, aggravated sense of disappointment. At least if he's going to be screwing the rules six ways to Sunday, she'd hope he's doing it for more than a fling. "No, I don't."
Her voice is pitched low and intent, too, though she sits back a little, glances up at the waitress when she comes by and deposits Steve's beer on the table, along with a napkin to catch the condensation on the bottle before it leaves a ring on the wood, waits until the girl is gone before leaning in again.
"I don't think any of it's managed to escape your notice. You know every single rule you're breaking, and you're doing it anyway. Just like you know how badly this could screw things for you and him, if the wrong people found out."
Or the right people. Depending how you look at it.
She wets her lip, presses her mouth into a line, and tackles it head on. "Does anyone else know?"
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branchandroot
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Date: 2013-03-27 01:41 pm (UTC)Maybe she should feel bad, resorting to interrogation methods with Steve, but the walls he'd thrown up even before she knew who he's involved with defined his position pretty clearly: that he doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to give details, and anything she wants to hear is going to have to be dragged out of him inch by reluctant inch.
His annoyance at her insinuation doesn't pan out, though. He doesn't defend himself, or argue, doesn't suggest that Danny might be different, in anyway, and she can't help feeling a slight, aggravated sense of disappointment. At least if he's going to be screwing the rules six ways to Sunday, she'd hope he's doing it for more than a fling. "No, I don't."
Her voice is pitched low and intent, too, though she sits back a little, glances up at the waitress when she comes by and deposits Steve's beer on the table, along with a napkin to catch the condensation on the bottle before it leaves a ring on the wood, waits until the girl is gone before leaning in again.
"I don't think any of it's managed to escape your notice. You know every single rule you're breaking, and you're doing it anyway. Just like you know how badly this could screw things for you and him, if the wrong people found out."
Or the right people. Depending how you look at it.
She wets her lip, presses her mouth into a line, and tackles it head on. "Does anyone else know?"