Shot from [ x ]
He’d been checking on dinner when she’d excused her self to take a call. And honestly? Darcy had thought nothing of it at all. Too busy with making sure the chowder continued to simmer without burning the bottom. Because one only makes that mistake once before you do everything in your power not to repeat it again. The bread pulled from the oven, set on the cutting board to cool. Which…actually came out rather good. It’s not his mother’s perfect production but where it fails in presentation maybe it will make up for in taste. He can only hope anyway.
He’d been wheeling back to his computer on the other side of the bar when he’d heard it. Gotten caught up in touching up a photo when ears had pricked up at his name. And where he really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, it wasn’t exactly like he couldn’t not. Not with the way her voice was carrying from the bathroom. The bad speaker like quality of a male voice on the other end, which is only so easy to work out is her brother, Andy.
A brow lifts, blue moving away from the computer screen when just friends is rather stoutly stated. Only a second or two for it to dawn on him why she would have to defend their rela–right. Over protective brother syndrome most likely. Not that Darcy can say he wouldn’t be. Beth’s a kind and gentle person from what he’s seen so far. You add on the fact she’s easy on the eyes, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out why her brother might be a pinch too over bearing. Hell, Darcy knows what that feels like. Particularly where Cian is concerned. Ox too but maybe to a lesser degree given the latter’s personal history. Regardless though…
Eyes go wide when Beth suddenly goes full savage. The transplant staring at the bathroom door like it’s suddenly grown legs and arms. A mouth with teeth that’s going to eat him. The sarcasm only just so obvious with the door monster muffling the tone. Sarcasm that honestly Darcy can’t decide if it makes him feel better or otherwise, all things considered.
But then Beth’s coming out the door, shoving her phone in her pocket. And for a few seconds there’s an awkward kind of air that falls over the apartment as blue meets ocean. A sort of tension that screams for someone to say something, while simultaneously implying there will be blood if someone does. It makes his heart hammer and slow fall into the floor. It makes the seconds last too long and the echoing quiet of the room close in. Because the truth is? That hadn’t been meant for his ears. And whether or not he’d meant to hear it is in this moment irrelevant.
Beeeeeep. Beeeeeep. Beeeeeep.
He starts sharply. A clearing of his throat, before he’s half scrambling to get back to the stove. Turn the burner off completely. Find the bowls he’d set out and the ladle. And…as naturally as possible…Darcy Burke diverts from the growing elephant in the room. Tries his very best to squash it under his wheels. Because there is nothing going to come from it. At all. Period.
“Grab ta spread out v’ta oi’ce box would ye? Goin’ ta need i’ for ta bread in o’sec.”