A slim wrist tipped back the petite glass with ease, her previous alcohol intake numbing what flames may have licked at her throat a few shots prior; what condescending tone of her attending that had ribboned her slender frame throughout the day and further haunted the blonde following her departure from the hospital dissipating with each ordered shot. “This is my favourite song,” Sutton’s tone was riddled in a lust that lacked sex– the curve of her chin tilted, the lights overhead pressing various neon hues to fetching features.
Without a second thought, and entirely elicited by her drunken nature, the tips of her fingers reached outwards and curled to the palm of the body adorning the bar stool adjacent to her own; tugging gingerly in the swarm of bodies’ direction. The subtle curve of her chin briefly met her shoulder, peering back at her newfound company for the first time– her mouth curling upwards in a grin, something crystalline, as if diamonds would spill from the top of her tongue and fall between them, “It’d be a waste if we just let it pass.”
“Waste what, love?” He said, the English grit scratching the words as they came from his mouth, turning only because she pulled his seat.“The song, or the drink I just order, because I’m a little more keen on keeping the beer company.” He shrugged, “Besides that, I don’t dance. --I’d rather watch you do it.”
