( Annie, staring down at a bug she'd stepped on deliberately, the beauty of a life ended under her shoe. As a child, that had been powerful. She'd been sick at heart with it. Years later, she hadn't even been able to feel what died beneath her Titan's feet.
She catches the last of his words, just barely. Mostly the start. Rather than say anything to the obvious, she punches him lightly in the shoulder, winding into the bar and to one of the open tables with a solid wall to it; she doesn't notice precisely that she's picked one of the best locations to watch entrances and exits, where no one can sneak up on them, but she has.
Second nature. )
Hold that thought.
( She says, not really saying which thought. The bar boy, or whatever they're called, has already swung by them, asking if they know what they'll have; Annie asks for whatever's light on the tongue, trusting it's all more drinkable than half of what they've ever had. She waits for Reiner to order, for the man to leave, for the burbling brook of conversations around them to ebb and flow in the susurrus of social engagement.
Her's is a bottled beer, that gets uncapped in front of her: good. She wouldn't have drunk it otherwise. When Reiner's is set down too, she lifts her bottle. Entirely deadpan: )
Here's to the shitty flaws of the people who raised us.
no subject
She catches the last of his words, just barely. Mostly the start. Rather than say anything to the obvious, she punches him lightly in the shoulder, winding into the bar and to one of the open tables with a solid wall to it; she doesn't notice precisely that she's picked one of the best locations to watch entrances and exits, where no one can sneak up on them, but she has.
Second nature. )
Hold that thought.
( She says, not really saying which thought. The bar boy, or whatever they're called, has already swung by them, asking if they know what they'll have; Annie asks for whatever's light on the tongue, trusting it's all more drinkable than half of what they've ever had. She waits for Reiner to order, for the man to leave, for the burbling brook of conversations around them to ebb and flow in the susurrus of social engagement.
Her's is a bottled beer, that gets uncapped in front of her: good. She wouldn't have drunk it otherwise. When Reiner's is set down too, she lifts her bottle. Entirely deadpan: )
Here's to the shitty flaws of the people who raised us.
( Cheers. )