[ What–. What was that he’d just heard?? What–. His whole expression glows, lips parting soundlessly as his brows raised, clear irises expanding gently at the push of deepening pupils. Open. Effusive. Jubilation captured in a picture of youth and wonder. Excitement flooding his veins in a multi-colored thrum of simple joy, a light laugh leaping from his lips as his eyes clench and he tips his head back into the jovial sound of his own laugh. His arm moves out across the bar countertop, once again jostling the short glass next to his arm; almost half of the drink sloshes onto the sleeve of his jacket, and he couldn’t possibly care less right now. ]
Oh myyy goodddddddd
I totally just got Maria Hill to laugh–!
[ Oh no. She’s gone too far, as evidenced by the obvious elation on his mouth, in his eyes, spurred on by the alcohol like the rag-end of a Molotov cocktail. Maria shakes her head briskly, actions clipped as she tries to real in whatever slack she has left. A punctuated huff when she tips the contents of her glass down her throat and sets it back atop the table with a bit more force than necessary- but enough to signify that she was well and truly DONE. It’s not anger, nor frustration- of course, but it’s something else, like she’s gotten too close, let too much slip. A secret, maybe, and Maria HATES when those get out. The corners of her mouth lift, more chagrin to her smile than mirth, and she stands, a fingertip tapping atop the bar. ]
And isn’t it too bad that you won’t remember a damn thing?
See you later, Osborn, try not to out-fun Tony Stark.
Tabloid headlines don’t really suit you.