[ Look on the bright side. Maybe it is a few too many shots in her system (tequila was always that one drink for her, although the hangover is somehow never as bad as vodka), but that gets something in her head that earns a quick whistle of half a tune. With a quick flick of her wrist, the shot burns down her throat but by now Kate can barely notice the taste of the liquer, only that it buzzes in her head pleasantly as it enters her system.
It would be impossible to deny that Kate wants to prod Dean about Cas, just a little, because she likes Cas and has no reason to dislike Dean either, and she wishes she were even half as good at advice and fixing things as Dagny or Faith or even Diana, who could untangle interpersonal problems like she was playing Cat's Cradle - easy little plucking movements and gentle words. But she isn't, and even now the promise not to say anything about her conversation with Cas lingers quietly in the back of her mind.
So. Sam. Who is far easier to talk about, and - under the haze of alcohol - who she can't help smiling over, just a little, at that description. Optimism is something that does, somehow, kind of grow on you, even if you can't quite give into it yourself. That whole balance shit that people talk about, probably. Can't look at the shit all the time, or something. ] It's nice. [ It reminds her a little of Faith, in that same we can change things, make them better way. And that actually worked. Mostly.
Kate's fingers can't help but glide to her ear, to her piercings, fiddling with the bar she placed back in after finishing work; an old self-conscious habit that's even more obvious after a few drinks. ]
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because what is actually working through your issues in therapy???????
Date: 2016-08-06 04:40 pm (UTC)It would be impossible to deny that Kate wants to prod Dean about Cas, just a little, because she likes Cas and has no reason to dislike Dean either, and she wishes she were even half as good at advice and fixing things as Dagny or Faith or even Diana, who could untangle interpersonal problems like she was playing Cat's Cradle - easy little plucking movements and gentle words. But she isn't, and even now the promise not to say anything about her conversation with Cas lingers quietly in the back of her mind.
So. Sam. Who is far easier to talk about, and - under the haze of alcohol - who she can't help smiling over, just a little, at that description. Optimism is something that does, somehow, kind of grow on you, even if you can't quite give into it yourself. That whole balance shit that people talk about, probably. Can't look at the shit all the time, or something. ] It's nice. [ It reminds her a little of Faith, in that same we can change things, make them better way. And that actually worked. Mostly.
Kate's fingers can't help but glide to her ear, to her piercings, fiddling with the bar she placed back in after finishing work; an old self-conscious habit that's even more obvious after a few drinks. ]