( by now, sara's having a pretty good time — with as high of a natural alcohol tolerance as she's got, two of these fancy golden whiskeys she's been drinking on the rocks have been enough to maybe make her feel like she's drank a hell of a lot more; so this is what normal people her size feel like when they go to bars.
it's made her more inclined to actually start up conversations with the people who drift in and out of her little seating area, hair tossed over her shoulder, rather than just sitting there and letting people flock to her and initiate things.
a person climbing over the back of the couch so suddenly, out of the blue, would, in any other normal instance, be enough to get sara to immediately whip a dagger hidden within her outfit (where? she's not telling) and press it to their throat for catching her off guard. too bad sara's too almost-drunk to really react too much, feeling a hell of a lot more like a lover than a fighter right now.
a strong arm wraps around her shoulders and instinctively, sara curls in against him a little, his greeting enough for her to know that it's steve. he feels so warm, compared to the minty cupcakes she'd been eating that have left her nearly-bare arms dotted with goosebumps on top of freckles. she hums, pleased, tipping her head up so she can peer up at steve rogers' handsome, handsome face, her pupils huge from whatever the hell she's been consuming. ) Steve. Hi. You're here.
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it's made her more inclined to actually start up conversations with the people who drift in and out of her little seating area, hair tossed over her shoulder, rather than just sitting there and letting people flock to her and initiate things.
a person climbing over the back of the couch so suddenly, out of the blue, would, in any other normal instance, be enough to get sara to immediately whip a dagger hidden within her outfit (where? she's not telling) and press it to their throat for catching her off guard. too bad sara's too almost-drunk to really react too much, feeling a hell of a lot more like a lover than a fighter right now.
a strong arm wraps around her shoulders and instinctively, sara curls in against him a little, his greeting enough for her to know that it's steve. he feels so warm, compared to the minty cupcakes she'd been eating that have left her nearly-bare arms dotted with goosebumps on top of freckles. she hums, pleased, tipping her head up so she can peer up at steve rogers' handsome, handsome face, her pupils huge from whatever the hell she's been consuming. ) Steve. Hi. You're here.