“That’s cute you think I didn’t have one before I left the house,” Sharon slides into the stool beside Maria, her gaze swinging back toward the doorway in time with the other woman’s as she makes herself comfortable. They’re half a block down and across the street from the address Maria had sent earlier, but Sharon hadn’t even stopped there, just made a beeline for the only bar in sight, instead.
It’s a good call, but then – Maria’s always are.
Sharon’s eyes flick over her left shoulder toward the back next, looking for the exit there even though she’s sure Maria’s already found it. It feels – well, better isn’t right, hell, even the cocked-and-locked FNX in her bag doesn’t make her feel like that, but –
Paranoia loves company, apparently.
A raised hand gets Sharon her own glass of whatever Maria’s having, but Sharon holds off on taking a drink first, shifting in her seat to face the other woman more fully without ever showing her back to the doorway. Fingers grip the glass to hold it out, white-knuckled, a giveaway she only allows because of the company she’s in.
“Counted that one.”
A sly shift of her gaze suggests she’s joking, a glint in her eye passed only between those she trusts- those she considers friends. Maria downs the last half of her glass, brows flicking lightly before nodding at the man behind the bar. He promptly doubles the order, slides Hill’s glass across the table and collects the empty while wiping up the condensation atop the bar in one fell swoop.
“Cheers.” The sarcasm is layered on extra thick for the occasion and she clatters their glasses together, the following action perfunctory as the next sip of alcohol hisses across her tongue.
The silence between them afterwards is embedded with the beat of whatever classic rock is filtering through the speakers. “Nine and two- just down the corridor there beneath the restrooms sign.” The exits. Carter’s casing the joint, might as well cut her some slack. Hill’s gaze stays on the door, the line of smudged-out windows that occasionally show the shift of a body passing on the street.
“Never thought I’d live to see the day.”
– that Alexander Pierce dragged my ass through the street over Stark and co’s own domestic dispute is very much implied.