That her heart is pounding in her ears makes a liar of a lot of her, and she knows it, but it doesn't stop her.
It doesn't stop the way her eyes narrow even as her heart stutters at the whisper in her ear, breath blown on her skin, raising hairs on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. It doesn't stop the way she reaches out a hand, barely a second later, and lands it on his chest to shove him back, with the kind of repugnant expression of disgust and rejection that was usually reserved for drunk frat boys who had no fucking clue who she was and that she'd rather break their wrists than have to listen to a single word belched up on her with cheap beer breath.
"Like I'm going to give you the pleasure of running from you. Get over yourself, Kol." She looks to a side, and she knows that's more dangerous than baiting.
There's an alarm in her head screaming never, never, never take your eyes off the monster.
But she does it anyway, fingers sweating against the blade near her thigh, but not raised. Holding out some faith the guy at her bar is somewhere in this one, and it's not like Sam and that fucking tree all over again, that she won't need the reflexes Milliways instilled into her, not used since the rabbits, and the Apocalypse. "I don't know why you'd think I'd try to fix something I don't even know what is."
"Maybe you decided the decor of this decade was just too tedious finally. I know I've thought about breaking this chair with a god awful faded rose pattern in my livingroom about two hundred times at this point."
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It doesn't stop the way her eyes narrow even as her heart stutters at the whisper in her ear, breath blown on her skin, raising hairs on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. It doesn't stop the way she reaches out a hand, barely a second later, and lands it on his chest to shove him back, with the kind of repugnant expression of disgust and rejection that was usually reserved for drunk frat boys who had no fucking clue who she was and that she'd rather break their wrists than have to listen to a single word belched up on her with cheap beer breath.
"Like I'm going to give you the pleasure of running from you. Get over yourself, Kol."
She looks to a side, and she knows that's more dangerous than baiting.
There's an alarm in her head screaming never, never, never take your eyes off the monster.
But she does it anyway, fingers sweating against the blade near her thigh, but not raised. Holding out some faith the guy at her bar is somewhere in this one, and it's not like Sam and that fucking tree all over again, that she won't need the reflexes Milliways instilled into her, not used since the rabbits, and the Apocalypse. "I don't know why you'd think I'd try to fix something I don't even know what is."
"Maybe you decided the decor of this decade was just too tedious finally. I know I've thought about breaking this chair with a god awful faded rose pattern in my livingroom about two hundred times at this point."