I REBLOG THINGS I LIKE AND THEN I CRY

Abiteth touched her fingernail to the swell of her bust, where his eyes were focused, and trailed it up to her collar. Hawks’ gaze followed, jumping to her eyes when her finger stopped. His lids curved with his smile and his voice was low when he spoke, “pardon me~”

“You’re pardoned just this once, Hawks.”

God, he loved it. Loved how she had been so entranced by his feathers, loved that she was flirting back, just a little, ‘and glad she’s not bothered by the staring. Can’t believe I let her catch me.’

“Is that water?”

At least she didn't ask the question like she was disappointed - rather, she sounded truly curious. Hawks swirled the liquid in the glass, and smiled at her, “yep.”

Abiteth tilted her head to the side, appraising him, “is that the reason why you said no initially?”

“You could say that!”

“I could say that - or you could be clear about your answer.”

‘There she is, the Deviore I know,’ Hawks eyed her warily. She was frowning, leaning slightly away from him.

“... it was,” he admitted after deliberating on his truthfulness. He grasped that his immediate avoidance to give an exact answer in favor of one that let her come to her own conclusion about his behavior had put her off.

If she wasn't watching him closely, he would have grimaced. He should have known better than to brush off her genuine curiosity - preventing her from getting to know him better instead of believing she'd rather draw her own conclusion.

“Why?”

“Not that I don't drink, Deviore-san, but in my past experience the heroes I've gone with indulged quite heavily,” he pointed toward the dance floor, and Abiteth looked, “I would rather not turn it into a habit myself.”

A soft, quick laugh escaped her, and Hawks couldn't help the irritation he felt seeing that adoring smile cross her lips - irritation that dissipated when her expression shifted to something more solemn.

“Oh, Nemi…” Abiteth sighed, tilting her head to the side, her smile tight now, “I know she has her reasons, but I'm not fond of how much she drinks either.”

His wings relaxed, learning this, grateful that his personal avoidance of alcohol didn't disappoint her like it tended to disappoint their shared colleagues.

“But,” he shifted to the side to brace his arm against the bar, looking at her over the top of his glass while she gave him her attention with a side-long glance, “I'd do a shot with you, if you asked, Deviore-san.”

Her fingers twitched, dancing along the edge of her old glass. He lowered his, hopeful, ‘give me something more I can work with.’

Whatever crumb it was, he would take it.

“Rumi told me that you don't dance,” Abiteth commented after some deliberation, swirling her middle finger around the rim of the shot glass now.

Hawks hadn't noticed that she'd painted her nails with gold, and tipped them in black.

“I don't,” he replied, bringing his gaze back to her face - and he squinted with raised brows, because she was leaning against her palm now. Both her empty glasses were gone.

He let it go for now, “mostly because of these,” he let his wings rustle, and then gestured toward the dance floor with them, “a bit cumbersome in that kind of space, wouldn't you agree?”

“That's a shame,” Abiteth hummed, shifting her shoulders, “I'm sure there are a lot of women in here who would jump at the chance to dance with you, Hawks.”

“Good thing there's only one woman in particular I'm interested in dancing with, then,” he set down his water between them, so he could lean against the bar proper, “and she's a bit of an enigma to me right now.”

For a moment, Abiteth was confused - so Hawks indicated to her with a tilt of his head and a point of his brow. A startled smile crossed her lips, and she hid behind her bangs to disguise it for a moment. The bartender passed by, nodding to someone across the bar.

Hawks observed, watching the bartender go, his wings sagging slightly.

“I suppose that you’re too nervous to do a shot with that woman, then?”

That got his attention.

There were two shot glasses in front of her, filled with a blue liquid and two lemon wedges. His eyes glimmered with delight, his smile broad and excited - which was not the practiced smile she was used to.

“I am not too nervous for that, Deviore-san,” he leaned toward her against his arm, coiling one finger around a shot glass, “but what are the lemons for?”

“This,” she squeezed hers into the shot, and that pretty blue shifted into a vibrant violet. His feathers rustled to mimic his eagerness, and he likewise mimicked her action.

“Admittedly, I have no idea what this is,” he admired the color in the light, watching the swirls of blue as they changed to purple.

“Could be poison, Hawks, given the color,” she purred, daring to nudge into his space a little.

His smile turned to a smirk, and he lightly clinked his glass against hers, his voice dropping an octave:

“Poison me all you like, onee-san.”

Her cheeks were hot with that comment, and she tapped her glass on the bartop with shaking fingers, throwing it back without checking if Hawks had done the same.

She did have to snort out a giggle at his expression though, “oh, that’s sour!”

“Yes, lemon tends to be sour, Hawks-kun,” she chirped. He braced both of his hands against the bartop, pleased with this turn of events as far as she could tell, “that’s called Asian pigeonwings - or butterfly pea, if you will.”

“Butterfly pea?”

“Yes, like green pea, but the flowers are know for making a blue liquid when steeped. Acidity affects the color - oh,” she covered her mouth with her hand, eyes flicking away, “I won’t bore you with that.”

“You could never bore me.”

She hummed, turning her scowl away from him, ‘that practiced speech, but not that practiced smile.’

It was irritating - like earlier, when he wouldn’t commit to giving her a straight answer for a reason that was unfathomable to her.

Hawks’ gaze had since darted to the dance floor. Rumi and Shota had disappeared into the crowd, while Nemuri was dancing raunchily with Hizashi - quickly, Hawks turned his attention back to Abiteth, his cheeks reddening. Hoping that she wouldn’t notice.

Cracking her was more difficult than he had expected, if he was honest with himself, ‘even though I'm putting my training to good use.’

He reached across the space between them - barely an arm’s length, but the gap still seemed like a chasm he couldn’t cross - and brushed his fingers over her shoulder. It drew her gaze back to him, her green eyes calculating.

“You really didn’t have to stop talking, Deviore-san,” he tried a different approach, tried something more honest, “I would be interested in hearing more about the science behind that little color trick!”

Abiteth hummed, her eyes narrowing briefly while she scanned him over, “the lower pH balance of the lemon triggers a chemical reaction, causing the butterfly pea to turn from blue, to violet. You can make the result more of a vibrant red, or pink, by adding something like hibiscus.”

“I think I’d like to see something red.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would, Hawks,” a knowing smirk touched her lips, and he disarmed her with a smile.

“Yeah - like those cheeks, or those lips,” his smile brightened his features, and he tossed his head a little, “or my lips, if you would be so inclined~”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you~?” she teased, pushing one finger against his chest, and dragging it down. His feathers thrummed, a giddiness sparking in his chest, at the fact that she was flirting back. He hoped she wouldn't notice the way she touched him.

“I would absolutely like that, Deviore-san.”

Her dainty fingers wrapped around the water glass he had since abandoned, and she was about to respond when she blinked.

‘God damn it, Midnight-san.’