Cain is not a threat. Saturday's fingers are stiff but they move at his urging, and then the woman's attention is off her entirely. Which is the split second of breathing room she needs to regain control of herself. She pulls back, and when Cain excuses her, ducks her head to look humble and hide her
"'M sorry," she says, speaking through clenched teeth but sounding chastened. "Sorry, really sorry - " She needs more space, needs an excuse to break contact - and seizes on one as Cain continues to wave his cloak in front of the bull. "I just - I don’t like to be touched - "
Saturday goes abruptly to one knee and grabs a handful of napkins on the way. Her hands are shaking, and gripping them helps keep her steady.
"Don't worry, I got it - " Apologetic, eager to please, and out of the woman's line of sight. Saturday starts mopping at the spilled juice, rather pointlessly as it's already soaked in, but the action hides her from the woman and lets Cain fill her vision instead, the better to -
- flirt?
Saturday sucks in a breath to hold a sudden, startled laugh, which becomes slightly harder when it works. The woman’s protest dies at Cain’s considerate words and his respectful bow, and Saturday’s respect for this guy grows about three sizes. He’s very good.
"Well - I - I suppose I could go get one, you’re not supposed to leave until the party’s over." She’s fluttering a bit, and Cain presses the advantage while Saturday stays down, playing the anxious penitent. She's better at the role then you'd think; some habits die harder than others.
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"'M sorry," she says, speaking through clenched teeth but sounding chastened. "Sorry, really sorry - " She needs more space, needs an excuse to break contact - and seizes on one as Cain continues to wave his cloak in front of the bull. "I just - I don’t like to be touched - "
Saturday goes abruptly to one knee and grabs a handful of napkins on the way. Her hands are shaking, and gripping them helps keep her steady.
"Don't worry, I got it - " Apologetic, eager to please, and out of the woman's line of sight. Saturday starts mopping at the spilled juice, rather pointlessly as it's already soaked in, but the action hides her from the woman and lets Cain fill her vision instead, the better to -
- flirt?
Saturday sucks in a breath to hold a sudden, startled laugh, which becomes slightly harder when it works. The woman’s protest dies at Cain’s considerate words and his respectful bow, and Saturday’s respect for this guy grows about three sizes. He’s very good.
"Well - I - I suppose I could go get one, you’re not supposed to leave until the party’s over." She’s fluttering a bit, and Cain presses the advantage while Saturday stays down, playing the anxious penitent. She's better at the role then you'd think; some habits die harder than others.