heβs already there waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs when she hits the final step outside of the met; his combination of jeans and a sweatshirt looking far more appealing right now than the cocktail dress she had to drag out of the very back of her closet earlier in the evening on short notice. she conveys as much with a jealous groan before actually saying hello --------- insisting the pair can walk and talk ( gossip is more like it, but she wonβt outright call it that --- she had been attending for business, not pleasure ) about fiskβs little fundraising get together as they go now that thereβs a break in the rain.
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β βi hated these things then, and i hate them now.β @lostsouldier has his pick of what βthese thingsβ could be ----- the βfundraiserβ thatβs charity - washing a whole lot of money, the small talk sheβd had to endure for the last few hours or the fact sheβd had to stand there uncomfortably and grin and bear them both while balancing a drink in her hand and minding her tongue. ( the only reason sheβd gotten so comfortable with it back in hightown was sheer repetition -------- that and her survival instinct running on high alert nonstop for more than half a decade. )
the reflections of traffic lights and neon scattered and diffused on the wet pavement is apparently one of those universal things, she notices as they walk along --------- they looks the same here as it did half a world away, and she has to go and catch herself mentally before she refers to that other place as home out of habit. two large raindrops landing square on her forehead interrupt her story about her conversation with one of fiskβs staff ( and the parsley stuck in his teeth ) eliciting an annoyed βshit,β from her as she glances up at the black - grey sky of manhattan and gets greeted with another handful of drops on her face for her trouble. βso much for being dry.β
heβs already proven to be just as stubborn as she is enough times for it not to come as a surprise that the moment the skies once again fully open up heβs fussing with his jacket in an attempt to keep her dry ---------- nor should it be one for him that she fully intends to spend the handful of blocks they still have to walk towards the subway station on 86th protesting the gesture and trying to convince him to put his coat back on. ( but she will at least concede to herself that the heels sheβd chosen for the night were a poor choice ------ just another reason why she never wears them unless absolutely necessary. but barefoot on the subway is too far, even for her. )
when they reach the staircase and he still hasnβt left her side, arms outstretched over her head while she pauses to rummage through her bag for her metrocard, she debates darting back into the rain just to be difficult.
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β β ... youβre not planning on doing this the whole way back to my apartment, are you, barnes?β