Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandoms:
Relationships:
Character:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Collections:
November Notes & Nothings
Stats:
Published:
2023-03-15
Words:
369
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
3
Hits:
44

Day 11: Enough

Work Text:

November Notes & Nothings titlebar

You’re good at that.” You’re far too intoxicated to continue keeping an eye on him out of the corner of your eye. Even leaning on the bar as you spin on the stool makes you a little unsteady. The fault, of course, isn’t with the liquid you keep pouring down your throat, but the wobbly-and-in-need-of-repair stool. “Good. Very too good at that.” 

You tsk at yourself, at him, and scrunch up your face as you look at him - sitting there in his dapper suit. Golden man pausing swallowing the golden liquid from his glass to cast a - a look in your direction. He’d just finished saying goodbye to somebody, several somebodies, he might’ve known a year, two, five, years ago? You’d lost track while they were talking. He - he’d made it sound like he’d seen them just yesterday.  

Not that it mattered. It wasn’t your place to comment. But you’ve seen it so many nights over and it’s just started to grate on you. That’s all. Watching him schmooze, ooze charm and smile, picking his way through making everyone feel like they know him better than they do.  

“At what?”

Like he doesn’t know. Or is this impatience in his tone because you’ve called him out on something he’s very aware of. Smugness pulls your mouth into a half smile, draws a light chuckle out with your reply, “Making people believe they’re more important to you than they really are.”

His expression glazes over for a second before he tips his eyebrows up, lifting his glass but waiting to return fire before swallowing the last of his drink, “Well. Someone’s had enough.” 

Of watching him fake his way through every interaction, nearly every interaction. Yes. Of - he slips off the stool and digs in his back pocket for his wallet, bringing your triumphant internal little dance to a standstill. Catching the bartender’s eye he motions to your drink, as well as the empty glass that sits before his now vacant seat. 

You exhale, not quite sure what to do about this development. He usually doesn’t leave until the evening has progressed a little further on. “What? Truth hard to stomach?”

“No. Just choosing not to attend this argument.”