Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Countship? And that little comment kept the guy from chasing after them? Dude, seriously, this wasn’t just any chick, was she? She was vaguely important, something, he didn’t know but he should know and—
--and that was fucking awesome. Hot chick that could get him some perks? Damn right he was all in. Why couldn’t all the ladies that he met through his rather tumultuous time alive be like this, instead of pulling guns against his helmet and beating his ass into the ground on multiple occasions? (Sister didn’t count; that had been fun in and of itself.)
“Um, just who are you, anyway? Because I can’t keep calling you ‘hot chick’ in my head.” And he should probably know this. He should really, really know this. But not-knowing didn’t stop him from following her, from feeling those stares on his back, from moving through the cold with a slight little stumble to his steps because let’s be real: he was drunk. He was just good at keeping it slightly together.
Tucker leaned against the rock she perched on, taking the cup from her on automatic and bringing it to his lips. She wasn’t kidding about the vodka: it was strong but it was good, different than the whateveritwas he had been drinking earlier, the kind that burned on the way down but didn’t set him on fire.
“I love Barrayaran priorities.” He offered the cup back to her, unless she was going to drink out of the bottle, and then he was going to ask her how she felt about being a stepmom for the best alien kid in the galaxy. “What are you priorities? Other than getting me drunk and taking advantage of me, not that I blame you.” Not that she had to try hard. Or really try at all.
Don't you dare feel sorry for him! Also, sorry this took so long!!
--and that was fucking awesome. Hot chick that could get him some perks? Damn right he was all in. Why couldn’t all the ladies that he met through his rather tumultuous time alive be like this, instead of pulling guns against his helmet and beating his ass into the ground on multiple occasions? (Sister didn’t count; that had been fun in and of itself.)
“Um, just who are you, anyway? Because I can’t keep calling you ‘hot chick’ in my head.” And he should probably know this. He should really, really know this. But not-knowing didn’t stop him from following her, from feeling those stares on his back, from moving through the cold with a slight little stumble to his steps because let’s be real: he was drunk. He was just good at keeping it slightly together.
Tucker leaned against the rock she perched on, taking the cup from her on automatic and bringing it to his lips. She wasn’t kidding about the vodka: it was strong but it was good, different than the whateveritwas he had been drinking earlier, the kind that burned on the way down but didn’t set him on fire.
“I love Barrayaran priorities.” He offered the cup back to her, unless she was going to drink out of the bottle, and then he was going to ask her how she felt about being a stepmom for the best alien kid in the galaxy. “What are you priorities? Other than getting me drunk and taking advantage of me, not that I blame you.” Not that she had to try hard. Or really try at all.