Donovan headed into the bar, pissed at himself. This was the second time the Countess had left him to go hunting just to hunt. He didn’t see the need to go, though he could feel the Countess slipping farther and farther away from him. Liz had told him to just go with it, you know how she gets, she’d reminded him (as if he’d needed reminding). Now here he was– alone– on a Saturday night. Again. With a huff, he sat down, looking up at Liz as she poured him his favorite drink.
“Go ahead. Say I told you so.”
at the heavy steps sounding on the staircase, the newly - lit cigarette within her grasp is given a quick drag, & then promptly moved to between clenched teeth. she recognizes those downtrodden footfalls anywhere, & she has a peculiar feeling that he needs a drink. novel is set aside for the time being, & as the approaching boy aims for a seat in the lounge, liz is up & pouring a drink. the shaker’s stream soon trickles to a slowstop & the full glass is set down in front of the brooding other with a tink. a hint of smugness twinges lips into the slightest of cynical smiles, smoke coming to rest in its previous position, as she concedes to fulfill donovan’s request, ❛ ––– i told you so. ❜
