[ a true, proper apology is sitting half-formed on her tongue, slowly working its way towards completion as she grapples with the fact she can smell his cologne everywhere in this small space, and that the backlessness of her dress makes it far easy to notice the tense set of her shoulders, the way her own quickened breathing comes out in little shudders.
kind of stupid, actually, how the biggest oversight of this mission winds up being her own goddamn partner.
what she should be doing right now, if she's not going to go ahead and apologize like she should, is refocus on the mission at hand. to gather up the knives and smoke bombs they'd stashed away, to remind peter where he can find her if things start to go south. she should take her stuff and go, dip into that office to finally get into those servers and nab those files and call the mission a success before it's even too late for a night cap.
she definitely shouldn't be keenly aware of how close peter remains, of even how much closer he gets. she also definitely shouldn't be entertaining certain thoughts when he says what he says, spoken so close to the sensitive shell of her ear that it's got to be deliberate.
she doesn't move save for the slight turn of her head, just enough that she can look up, meet his eyes.
futz. ]
Table that.
[ she turns again, dipping down into a low crouch right in front of him and okay okay okay she knows what it looks like but don't get too excited okay, it's the duffel bag she's unzipping and stuffing her hand into. she pulls out her things, leaves her bow and quiver leaning neatly against the wall by the door in case shit goes down and necessitates it. stuffs a couple of throwing knives along her garters, tries not to think about how her mouth is watering, just a little, and then okay she's back on her feet and ducking out of the closet to finally sneak into that office. and if her face is red the entire time she did all that? well, that's her business. ]
no subject
kind of stupid, actually, how the biggest oversight of this mission winds up being her own goddamn partner.
what she should be doing right now, if she's not going to go ahead and apologize like she should, is refocus on the mission at hand. to gather up the knives and smoke bombs they'd stashed away, to remind peter where he can find her if things start to go south. she should take her stuff and go, dip into that office to finally get into those servers and nab those files and call the mission a success before it's even too late for a night cap.
she definitely shouldn't be keenly aware of how close peter remains, of even how much closer he gets. she also definitely shouldn't be entertaining certain thoughts when he says what he says, spoken so close to the sensitive shell of her ear that it's got to be deliberate.
she doesn't move save for the slight turn of her head, just enough that she can look up, meet his eyes.
futz. ]
Table that.
[ she turns again, dipping down into a low crouch right in front of him and okay okay okay she knows what it looks like but don't get too excited okay, it's the duffel bag she's unzipping and stuffing her hand into. she pulls out her things, leaves her bow and quiver leaning neatly against the wall by the door in case shit goes down and necessitates it. stuffs a couple of throwing knives along her garters, tries not to think about how her mouth is watering, just a little, and then okay she's back on her feet and ducking out of the closet to finally sneak into that office. and if her face is red the entire time she did all that? well, that's her business. ]