[ She hadn't said a damn thing to him since he arrived back in camp. Looked at him once and kept walking like he was so much dirt under her heel that she would leave at the door. In part because can't think of a decent thing to say to him - where to even start? Thank-you, is one, you fool, is another, how dare you make me feel like one, is another.
Still doesn't have much of a plan, when she ends up face to face with him behind a tent, on a run between messages. Even as it puts her in the way of one set of people that loathe her presence to another, she's good at doing straight forward work. Doesn't have to think too much, when she's most definitely got other things on her mind - namely a corpse.
Stands there, feet shifting to a fighting stance by almost instinct as she looks him over. He looks tired, had they drugged him like they had her. Lifts her chin as she drags her eyes back up to his face and in - strategy is how you hope the battle goes, tactics is what you do when it's all gone to hell - she steps forward, same front assault she'd perfected years ago. She slips her free hand without saying a word up, to his chest, shoulder, latching her fingers to the back of his neck and yank him down to her ( him down to her, never her up to him, not how this worked, always the trick, make them lose their high ground ).
Her lips to his, her nails pressing half-moons to the skin at the back of his neck. Scratching deeply as her teeth sink into his lip. One, breathless, demanding kiss, that comes loud and fast, the Enfield's firing, metal to metal, and she pulls back - ]
Liar.
[ Mutters it into shared space. Liar, to act like she was the only idiot that wasted herself on dreaming of a better world, that erasing the self to that wasn't something they both did. Liar, liar, liar, except when she caught him off guard, had him the way she liked.
And where she's pulled him to her, twisted down to her height, she snaps her knee up hard into his stomach. ]
b/c; do what i want??
Still doesn't have much of a plan, when she ends up face to face with him behind a tent, on a run between messages. Even as it puts her in the way of one set of people that loathe her presence to another, she's good at doing straight forward work. Doesn't have to think too much, when she's most definitely got other things on her mind - namely a corpse.
Stands there, feet shifting to a fighting stance by almost instinct as she looks him over. He looks tired, had they drugged him like they had her. Lifts her chin as she drags her eyes back up to his face and in - strategy is how you hope the battle goes, tactics is what you do when it's all gone to hell - she steps forward, same front assault she'd perfected years ago. She slips her free hand without saying a word up, to his chest, shoulder, latching her fingers to the back of his neck and yank him down to her ( him down to her, never her up to him, not how this worked, always the trick, make them lose their high ground ).
Her lips to his, her nails pressing half-moons to the skin at the back of his neck. Scratching deeply as her teeth sink into his lip. One, breathless, demanding kiss, that comes loud and fast, the Enfield's firing, metal to metal, and she pulls back - ]
Liar.
[ Mutters it into shared space. Liar, to act like she was the only idiot that wasted herself on dreaming of a better world, that erasing the self to that wasn't something they both did. Liar, liar, liar, except when she caught him off guard, had him the way she liked.
And where she's pulled him to her, twisted down to her height, she snaps her knee up hard into his stomach. ]