[[ milliways ]]

[almosthonorable]

whitetextiswhite

It's early -- early enough that the bar proper is more quiet than loud. Ben likes mornings like this in here, when he can sit with his coffee at one elbow and his hat by the other on the counter, and he isn't taking up more space than might be considered polite.

This particular morning, he's also got a box of ammunition in front of him, courtesy of Bar; as soon as the gray light outside bleeds to red-gold, he'll stride out back for some target practice.

Comments

[ellectrical]

She starts to lower herself down again, though she keeps one hand on his right shoulder, ostensibly for balance.

"Pretty sure it's supposed to go on your head."



Don't worry, that is sarcasm.

[almosthonorable]

Dry as a July desert, "I'm pretty sure you're right."

He glances at her hand on his shoulder, and his eyes move back to her face.

"Thank you, all the same."

[ellectrical]

In return, Elle just smiles faintly, and answers, "Sure."

And then, she turns again, using the hand remaining on his shoulder to push off against him as she starts to head back in the direction of the bar once more.

[almosthonorable]

Ben's stock-still for a moment, watching her make for the bar.

With an under-the-breath chuckle, he adjusts his hat and follows in her wake.

Even if she's already eaten, he can offer to get her a cup of coffee. (And maybe ask Bar for a hat catalog -- making Elle laugh, or even just smile -- would be well worth the request.)