He just stares at her, the muscles of his jaw bunching, eyes flat and hard in a way she hasn't seen aimed at her in...
Ever. Maybe. They never fight, because there's never enough time, and the times they've argued have been few and far between. What's the point of arguing something when it's only going to be gone in a few days, anyway?
So she rolls her eyes at his reticence, adds in a slight tip of her chin upwards, like this should be a barked order instead of a soft question.
"It's not actually a trick question, Steve. Despite what you might think..."
Her eyes go to the hands he's got wrapped around his beer bottle, and on impulse, she reaches out to touch one, curving her fingers over the back of it, protectively. Hers, slim, small, fair; his hand half again as large, if not bigger, and dark from sun, but still familiar under her fingers. "I want to see you happy. I'm worried about you."
no subject
Ever. Maybe. They never fight, because there's never enough time, and the times they've argued have been few and far between. What's the point of arguing something when it's only going to be gone in a few days, anyway?
So she rolls her eyes at his reticence, adds in a slight tip of her chin upwards, like this should be a barked order instead of a soft question.
"It's not actually a trick question, Steve. Despite what you might think..."
Her eyes go to the hands he's got wrapped around his beer bottle, and on impulse, she reaches out to touch one, curving her fingers over the back of it, protectively. Hers, slim, small, fair; his hand half again as large, if not bigger, and dark from sun, but still familiar under her fingers. "I want to see you happy. I'm worried about you."