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Briefly, Lucy let the psychometrist catch her eyes. It was its own kind of silent pleading; rarely would Lucy let the word please drop from her mouth, especially twice in one night. So she didn't, but maybe her eyes said it all. It was what made holding her gaze to hard, especially when she finally offered a little squeeze.
She took a breath then, doing her best to keep it even. She half expected to be denied, because it only seemed like fair an equal punishment given her own motives. They simmer underneath the surface like they always did, but she kept her mouth shut as her eyes turned away and she drank a little more.
The tips of her fingers brushed against her palm, like leaving fire in such a small wake.
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.
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."
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.
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.
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.
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."
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."
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."
That disapproving look she got had Lucy raising her eyebrows, her mind working wonders to piece together a solution. "No offense, babe." She added then. "There's totally nothing wrong with late bloomers."
And then she laughed, under her breath but it was so obviously pointed towards her.
It felt like a loss when two identical drinks landed on the table before them. Lucy narrowed her eyes on the guy, and the second one was put in front of her, her fingers pressed to the stem and she eased it across the table towards her love.
Then she winked at him, grimacing through her obvious grin with the silent notion that yes, they were both for her, and it was definitely going to get messy.
Amongst the minor silence and as her counterpart leaned forward, Lucy reached for the bottle on her side of the table. Nonchalant didn't begin to cover how she cradled the neck between her fingers and took a long drink. Despite the movement - the tilt of her head in her desperation - she still kept her eyes on the woman who decided to split the space between them. But she didn't move to meet her. Not yet, anyway.
Dropping her arm and her drink from her lips, the ink manipulator shrugged. "Pretty sure you can just tell me when the plates get here." She reasoned. Lucy wasn't one to often gloat about the ability her love carried, but even she had to admit it would be amazing to watch them be returned because they didn't expect a meta at the table.
"And," She continued on, dragging the word out in an almost exasperated tone, "What kind of dumbass virgin dropkick interrupts what probably looks like an argument to take an order?"
There it was; rejection in the form of a potentially cold stare. Almost immediately she was corrected, like being scolded not only for swearing, but for doing so so harshly. Lucy didn't fight it. Maybe it was because she knew she'd already gotten away with a lot in the last five minutes.
"She won't be having a fucking martini, that's forsure." Lucy offered then, unaware if their server was even still around. The menu before her may as well have disappeared into thin air; "She's pretty psyched you're branching out beyond the realms of wanky as wines, though." And with it, the ink manipulator wore a broad grin as she leaned back in her seat. Somehow, it was like being younger again.
Okay, in honesty Lucy didn't expect to get any of the things she'd asked for. She expected an argument. A reasonable one, but one nonetheless. The first and easiest point to hit was to watch the psychometrist down the wine instead of savouring it. Had it stopped there, Lucy would have been happy with any kind of win. She didn't win much as it was.
And then her phone was gone. Maybe that was the biggest thing about the trio of requests. She definitely didn't expect that to happen, considering how intensely she'd been looking at it only seconds before. She didn't even look at it before it disappeared from view. Safe to say, Lucy was settling in her seat again.
When she ordered food, Lucy rose her eyebrows, surprise striking her at the secondary order. She felt a set of eyes land on her instantly after that. They weren't familiar, but they spouted some polite request about taking her order.
"Fuck off." She spat, but her eyes refused to leave her counterpart. And even though they both knew she'd ditto the order in the end, she couldn't help herself; "I'm not ready yet."
The way Penny said her name was almost bruising. It certainly worked to stop Lucy in her motion. Thankfully so too, as she was mere moments from physically standing and pulling whatever notes she had out of her front pocket.
There was determination in the way she continued on. There were arguments, and then there was the psychometrist genuinely trying to sell something. She still wasn't sure. She even looked at her with scrutiny. It wasn't that she didn't trust her - Lucy was positive Penny wanted to feel that way - she just didn't believe it.
"Oh yeah? Prove it." Lucy challenged, a little more harshly than she usually would have. Now, it was about getting to a different point. She squared her shoulders; it wasn't often she blatantly denied the wishes of her love. "Drink that bloody wine and order another one."
As if that wasn't a big enough ask; "Oh, and put your fucking phone away."
Lucy's eyes shot to the familiar hand that reached for the glass at her side like a lifeline. She couldn't help but scrutinise the move, deciding it was either because she needed the drink to survive, or people she wanted it to look like she was engaged in their setting. It'd been a firm no out of her mouth, and so the ink manipulator chose to give her the benefit of the doubt. Or at least, she tried to.
As she stared at the woman she loved, Lucy wondered if it was obvious just how much she didn't believe the next statement she offered. Her tongue ran the length of her lower lip slowly, either to coax a better set of words out of her mouth, or to stop her from talking all together. "It's okay, seriously." Lucy continued on, grabbing her phone as her eyes went with it. Shifting in her seat slightly, she slid it into her back pocket.
"This is the first time I reckon I've sat across a table from you knowing I'm not the biggest thing on your mind." She explained, raising her eyebrows once. Her keys left the table and settled in her hand; "That's shitty, love. So let's just go."
