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Lucy offered the most interaction she could with the server who was probably confused by her now. She was still surprised her counterpart bothered to talk to the man at all. When he was gone, Lucy turned her attention to where it belonged; towards her wife who was giving her that look. It wasn't the good kind.
"Oh no, love, you know what I'm like on gin." To be fair, a drunk Lucy was always clingy. She was always arrogant and always a bit of a problem. But she always believed those were worse depending on the alcohol intake. "Don't open a book you can't..." Eyebrows furrowed amongst the pause; "Read."
It was a back and forth that reminded her of when she first started regularly spending time with the ink manipulator. Lucy had this fire that knew exactly how to light Penny's already short fuse. Her lips remained pursed, only breaking as she brought the first of what was apparently her two drinks to her lips. Her jaw clenched at the taste of hard alcohol. Rarely was she one to opt out for a beverage over wine, and the taste would take time to get used to.
"Are you implying I cannot read you?" Penny turned her wife's words on her, eyebrows quirking upwards briefly. "Now that's a thought."
Despite how Penny had persisted, Lucy still hadn't reached for the drink that was apparently hers. It was a kind of protest from the ink manipulator who then folded her arms in front of her chest for good measure. Not only did she cut herself off from the alcohol she'd deemed dangerous, but she cut herself off physically. Also dangerous.
"Mate, at this point you could read me all over the bloody table and if you wanted to." She replied quickly. This whole encounter felt like odd reminiscing and she hardly hated it.
Pressing her feet to the floor, she eased the chair back and dropped her arms. "I'm getting a drink."
Mate - a nickname that wasn't one on the short list of ones she was often referred to by her wife. She was thankful that it wasn't often, either. The look on her face likely showed that, twisting more from it than the burning sensation that came with pure gin. She put her hands into her lap, dark eyes breaking contact to glance down at the table before them - to inappropriately humor the thought put in her mind - before shooting back up towards the ink manipulator.
And when she looked back up, she caught sight of the Australian pushing away from the table. Her nose crinkled. "You have a drink, Lucy." She threatened with a searing tone.
As she took a single step, Lucy's hands were digging in the front pockets of her jeans in search of a loose note. That's where she usually hid them. The forced barely dragged the low hem of her jeans down a fraction more.
Swinging on the heel of her boot, Lucy twisted to look back at her wife again. Heavy wings hid themselves from view as she hauled her hands out to press them together instead.
"Please just let me get regular trolleyed and not hyper-gay fuck me in the parking lot cause I'm so despo trolleyed." She pleaded, literally cringing at the immediate thought; "I might legit cry this time."
What was supposed to be a classy night out without their son for the first time was quickly treading into dangerous territory. The moment Lucy made it to her feet, Penny found quick advantage with not being eye level with the ink manipulator. It showed in the delay it took for her gaze to travel up to Lucy's face, to catch that look she wore as she offered an explanation. Or was that a possible request? Penny was sure she heard a formal please at the head of her sentence, but it took her a moment to realize it actually came out of her wife's mouth.
"If you come back with a beer, you're drinking this." Penny stated flatly, jaw clenching as she thought back to their car in the parking lot. "And you probably will cry." It wasn't so much a threat as it was a general statement of someone that knew her so well.
That was definitely a threat. They both were. It was the kind that had Lucy raising her chin a fraction. Narrowed eyes seemed to contemplate her current position, let alone the one she'd wind up in later.
"Oh yeah?" She asked, glancing at the drink, then at her wife, then at the table.
With a step she was at the table again. Leaning inward, Lucy pressed her hands to the table, breaching the safety between them and drawing her face in close. "What're you gonna do if I bring back two?" She asked, unable to hide a grin as it plastered itself across her mouth.
Proximity was always a danger, especially when downing a glass of wine had put Penny at the start of a very early buzz. Her hands gripped each other as she remained with perfect posture in her chair, jaw aching from the way she clenched it. She wouldn't dare. Then again, this was Lucy. Any sort of instruction to not do something seemed to come back in tenfold with the opposite when she had that particular grin.
She glanced, briefly, at her lips. The breath Penny took in was a little too shaken.
It was always difficult to try and use proximity as a weapon against someone who wielded it way too well. The second Lucy was in close enough she knew what to say, but not what to do. The threat she had was perfectly crafted to work in tandem with the danger that'd make her head spin.
She raised her eyebrows at the response given. Crinkling her nose, she shook her head. "I was never good at learning." She pointed out, reeling back without a single point of contact to her name.
And then she was gone with a small series of steps. Leaning forward on bar tops and creating general conversation with bartenders had always been her forte. Reeling back with a fake laugh to make them feel good. It was all cheap, but it was all worth the gain. When she got back, she cradled the necks of two beers between the fingers of one hand.
It seemed that as quickly as Lucy had brought herself close, she was pulling away again. It wore the psychometrist thin as she sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose the moment her wife was headed towards the bar. Of course she would bring two beers back. She brought the glass to her lips again, taking another slow burning sip of the rough alcohol that would surely impair her judgement later. She couldn't recall the last time she drank like this.
She stole a few glances towards her wife's turned back. How she played the game so well. And there it was, real confirmation that Lucy was never good at learning. Penny plucked up the toothpick, sinking her teeth into one of the large, gin soaked olives.
Lucy was positive Penny would cave. Without the watchful eyes of the Australian, she could have done whatever she wanted and she would have been none the wiser. It was genuinely impressive to hear otherwise, especially because Lucy believed her.
"Course not." Lucy retorted with a quick laugh. She placed both bottles down on the table before settling back in her seat again. Reaching across, she plucked the disdain-worthy second drink from her counterpart's side of the table and took it back to her own.
"I reckon that's fair, yeah?" Lucy asked her then, because she swapped the unwanted martini for one of the cool bottles she'd brought back with her.
Distraction had taken over Penny so much that within the few short minutes her love was gone, she hadn't thought to check her phone. It was a feat that only Lucy could take claim to; Penny couldn't recall the last time she let her mind rest away from the idea of their son, especially now that she was without him. The untouched martini had made its way back towards Lucy's side of the table, replaced with a bottle instead. She had to suppress the smile, because letting her know she was impressed by the choice was too nice for Penny to actually do.
"Alright, fine." Penny settled with instead, sinking the last olive back into the clear liquid before she brought the glass to her lips. "I thought you were concerned about crying?" She asked after another moment, finally letting the corner of her lip twitch upwards.
Perhaps it was inevitable for Lucy to cave. Maybe she knew that all along. More to the point, maybe they both did. That was why it was so much better to make a trade; at least she wasn't completely losing out this way. Plus, once the bottle touched those familiar lips, Lucy was sure she'd be begging to switch again. By no means was her love a beer drinker, and those who weren't experienced a deep regret for the choice pretty early on.
An agreement had Lucy looking like she'd won. Again, it was better than getting nothing. She sunk back into her seat and didn't even touch the glass over the bottle. She didn't have to just yet.
"Oh what, suddenly you can't handle it?" Lucy asked her then. "It's not like I'd be doing it to myself. No fun in that."
Penny held no desire to start in on the beer placed in front of her. In all honesty, she was hoping her pallet would be burned from her own beverage before she could get to the bottle. All this time at the table, and the only contact she made was with some sort of alcohol. Her fingers twitched with the urge to reach out to her counterpart, but it seemed that turned into a game within itself, and Penny wasn't one to lose so easily.
"I can handle anything you throw at me." Those words were likely to turn into regret later that evening, because they both knew they were untrue. Lucy was the only person that Penny couldn't handle, even from the start.
She leaned back in her chair, legs crossing over one another.
Was that a threat? Lucy couldn't help but cringe at the notion thrown to her. She definitely didn't like her drunk self on clear alcohol. She took a long swig from her beer for good measure.
When she leaned back in her seat, Lucy searched her expression like she would find something new. The bottle on her side remained untouched, and as such, the glass Lucy now owned was completely stagnant. If this was a battle for something, she would be the first to admit that she absolutely didn't understand it. She wouldn't dare say it out loud, though.
Leaning forward against the norm, she unfurled her hand on the table in the space between them.
