Shoving is just as good as flirting, especially when the two acts are combined. Johanna doesn't snap back, as she might otherwise--but she doesn't let Kate's shove move her very much either, just greets it with a grin, and no explanation whatsoever, before she stands back to watch Kate give it another shot.
The miss makes her laugh. Kate's close scrutiny suggests that she won't be satisfied with that, that she's going to follow it up--and sure enough, she takes up the second axe, her eyes still fixed on the target, and Johanna heaves a chiding little sigh, her arms folded over her chest.
"Don't you have any manners? You ask a girl before you take her other axe." And there's no more helpful teacher routine, now that the flirting is done. Johanna just stands in critical observance, her mouth pinched at once side in a smirk.
Kate retorts without turning, focused on the target and the axe in her hand which she is definitely not putting back down. She does roll her eyes, just in case Johanna thinks she cares about impressing her. She kinda does, but mostly she just dislikes not being excellent. Also being called Katie.
Her next throw still isn't the perfection she'd prefer, but it's closer. It would be a bullseye if it were a couple feet higher, but at least this one makes the edge of the target. She doesn't say anything but her nose and lip twitch into a suggestion of a frown and she heads down the lane to retrieve the axes without waiting for Johanna's commentary.
"I'd love to make you say please." Yet another idle, teasing comment from Johanna. She stands, her arms still folded across her chest, her eyebrows still raised in judgement. Her gaze tracks the path of the axe through the air--another smirk, as the blade bites into the target.
And just because Kate's not waiting for her commentary doesn't mean she won't offer it. As her new friend strides away, Johanna calls after her: "Not as easy as archery, is it? But you'll get it. Keep trying."
That might almost be interpreted as encouragement, except for the heavy mockery that shades her tone. Oh well.
Kate snorts at that remark and otherwise doesn't respond, unless you count the new flash of goosebumps down her spine. Clearly there's a draft in here somewhere.
She laughs as she gets to the targets, rocking the axe handles back and forth a couple times until the heads come free. "This is so much easier than archery. It's harder than darts?" You know, if that makes Johanna feel better. She shrugs as she walks back, returning to the rough throw line they've been working with. Two more tosses, each closer than the last. She hasn't quite got the proper elbow angle down yet but she's getting there.
"Oh, that's funny." Rather than take offense, Johanna shifts her weight to her other leg, letting her hip cock out to the side a bit. She watches Kate's return; she watches Kate throw; she watches Kate miss the center of the target. She isn't bad. She definitely has the right sense. Whatever training she's had has probably helped her there--but she's still not making her mark. And even when she does, she still won't be Johanna Mason.
But really: who is Johanna Mason, except Johanna.
Anyways, Kate is still fun to watch. Johanna's not wandering off any time soon, and not just because Kate's got her axes. After the second toss, Johanna cocks her right eyebrow, just a little, her mouth still pinched in that smirk.
"So you're a good archer... and this is easier than archery." She draws an invisible line between the two points, in mid-air. "Does that mean you suck at archery, because you suck at this."
Kate might be mildly annoyed but it'd be a stretch to call her frustrated. She's taken fewer than ten throws total so far and feels like she's getting the hang of it, which is perspective she has to remind herself of as Johanna watches. The smugness and the teasing are practically palpable even when she's silent, and Kate can feel the weight of her eyes on the back of her neck as she retrieves the axes again and squares up to throw. It adds tension to neck and shoulders that she has to smooth back out with a moment of concentration, eyes briefly closed.
"I've been doing this for ten minutes," she says, doing her best to keep her tone dry instead of defensive and not rise to Johanna's bait this time, "And I had a shitty teacher. Give me an hour and some actual training and I'll trim your hair at this distance." Two more throws, inching nearer the center.
"I don't waste my time teaching people." She counters, with a yawn, almost cat-like in the way that she stretches. "And if you try cutting my hair, I'll show you just how imprecise I can be, when I want. What do I get in exchange for these lessons, by the way? The pleasure of watching you work?"
It's not that much of a pleasure, much as she's enjoying the view. She shifts her weight again, with an exaggerated sigh.
Kate's certainly not going to argue Johanna's lack of coaching ability. Instead she just watches the stretch, the lazy threat and demand before turning back to make another throw. She swings her arm around after it's landed (second ring, her best yet), circling to loosen the joint, fingers pressed into the muscle. She's obviously in great shape but it's not a common motion for her, and she doesn't want to tighten up. It'll only make her aim even worse.
She looks over her shoulder at Johanna and cocks a brow. "What do you want?" It's meant to sound more skeptical than suggestive - and does, as much as that wording can - but this conversation's kind of a moving target.
Johanna isn't a seasoned Mentor, back in Panem. Her winning Game isn't that far behind her, but she still has seen a few Tributes, watched them climb up the platform at the end of the Reaping, pale faces and drawn, taut features. She didn't look like that, when they'd chosen her. She was already playing the game, even then.
But she doesn't like to think of the Tributes, or her empty fucking house in the Victor's Village, or anything to do with Panem, no more than she's got to think about it. Yes, she's a shitty coach. So what.
Kate's next question is way more interesting than a review of Johanna's advice, and even a little more interesting than her stretching routine--and that's saying something. Johanna lets one eyebrow creep upwards again.
"What do I want," she repeats, thoughtfully. There might yet be a touch of lingering suggestiveness there. "What do I want, I wonder. What do I want from you? Is that what you're asking?"
Kate looks at Johanna like maybe the other girl's somehow acquired a head injury in the last few seconds. Her answer is a little slow, since apparently something was confusing the first time. "Yes, from me. What do you want in exchange for the lessons you're not even half-assing here?"
She pulls her arm over her head and tugs down in the elbow. "I'm not opposed to an exchange but you might have to actually teach me something if you want anything back." This entire topic is an innuendo minefield but any implication here is unintentional; all Kate's thinking about are axes and maybe archery or something in return.
She's never really taught anyone to shoot before unless you count a few unofficial lessons with Cassie years ago (and Cassie's as dead as any of Johanna's tributes). But the only formal teaching she has done is self-defense classes and clearly Johanna doesn't need those. Probably she doesn't want archery lessons either. Now that she thinks about it Kate has really no idea what sort of trade they could make since the only part of this she seems not to hate is getting to watch Kate and make fun of her and that's not really a currency she's a fan of. She has a stockpile of half-decent alcohol and knows where to get pot, but--. Actually.
Her head tilts just slightly and she looks at Johanna with a speculative eye. She's trying to imagine her high, but doesn't offer up that option/explanation right away. Johanna Mason giggly is not an easy thing to picture.
Edited (nts maybe don't tag while still half-asleep) 2014-08-30 15:36 (UTC)
Truthfully, there's very little in the world that Johanna wants--in this world, or in Panem--it doesn't matter. District 7 is not the poorest, but it isn't known for any particular wealth, either. The gifts she receives, they remind her of the sponsors during the Games--but Johanna's status as Victor also guarantees privileges that she neither wants nor takes advantage of. All of it comes with a price.
But Kate's offer is different. A little smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, first. That's the best part, Kate not knowing what she's really said. There was a small moment where it seemed as if she might, but--no.
And there's answers that she could give--answers that might stir things up a little more, mess with her head--but does she actually want to teach her anything? The current arrangement is just fine, for Johanna. She gets a laugh, an a fight. Why not?
"Who says I want to teach you anything?" She folds her arms over her chest, her hip cocked--and gets a proper look at Kate's face, the narrow close gaze. "What's that look for."
"You offered," Kate replies, which is a total misremembering of events. "You were all for it for a second there." Less of a misremembering, but kind of a misinterpretation. She's half kidding, making up enjoyment where she failed to recognize it.
As for the look, she just smirks. She was going to tell her, but for the first time since they stopped wrestling she feels like she has an advantage, however minor. "Do you smoke?" Different worlds, she remembers after a second and clarifies a little: "Have you ever been high?"
"I was all for something," she answers, archly, purposefully leaving that undefined and perhaps with a touch of suggestiveness. There's no disguising the frank irritation that's already crept into her tone, and the way that she looks at Kate suggests that she wouldn't want to disguise it anyways. If there's one thing Johanna hates--and she hates a lot of things, but she especially hates being one-upped or outclassed in some way. Kate's smirking does nothing but turn the pin on her irritation.
"You're probably a crappy student anyways," she tells Kate, tartly, determined to take some of the life out of that smirk. "I don't have all day to waste my time on charity cases, Katie. But I might let you practice with me, if you ask really nicely. Why," almost in the same breath, all without missing a beat, "are you asking."
Seeing how quickly Johanna gets frustrated, there's a part of Kate that wants to grin and twist the knife. She's never been considered (by herself or others) an especially patient person, but compared to Johanna she's clearly pretty much Gandhi. There's no way he'd approve of the way the corner of her smile twitches.
"I'm an excellent student," she replies, confidence unshaken by the dig. If Johanna wants to rattle her, this isn't the way to do it. (She was on a much better route earlier.) "But whatever you want to call it."
She spins an axe in her hand and looks back to the target like she's considering throwing some more, like she might just let Johanna's question hang in the air a while. But she doesn't, shrugging. "Just curious. I could hook up a trade, but you probably wouldn't be interested in that." It's classic reverse psychology and she doesn't bother to be subtle about it, another little smirk curving her mouth as she glances at Johanna through her lashes and then turns back to the bullseye. Now would be a good time for one.
Johanna will find her way back to the upper hand in no time at all. She will not allow herself a loss to Kate, not in any way at all. This is a momentary set back--and while she's not exactly sure of how it began, it isn't going to last. Two minutes, at most. Then she'll be flirting with Kate all over again.
Right now, though, Johanna's mouth twitches a little, hitching downwards toward a scowl. She does not like the look of her axe in Kate's hard right now, but she manages not to leap on her and snatch it back.
"If I'm not interested, it's just because that's not a trade of equal value." She's too irritated to drawl out her response, as she might have done if she had a better command of herself. "One little hookup from you wouldn't repay lessons from me. But go on and tell me why you think I wouldn't be interested."
Whatever, Kate's going to enjoy this while it lasts. She's 2-0 in her mind, anyway. No need to get defensive the way Johanna is.
The irritation just feeds her smug calm, and she takes her time before answering, lining up the throw, winding up as her breathing slows, stepping, swinging, and releasing. It's a dead center bullseye and she is insufferably pleased, barely restraining a grin. She licks at her lower lip as the smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, digs teeth into the swell of it to hold back her glee. Clint likes to say she's about nine years old and spoiled rotten and he also likes to say she's perfect; this is what he means.
She shrugs and runs a hand over her hair, tucking a lock back behind an ear. "Because it might help you relax a little." Why she would and wouldn't want it, in one.
So she got one shot in, on a still target, after fifteen failures. No one's impressed, and Johanna's eyeroll is more than enough to suggest that. She gives Kate three solid claps--one, two, three--and then she drops her hands at her side, heavily. That's how impressed she is.
And she's not, actually, interested in relaxing. Even if she was, she wouldn't know how to do it, not any longer, not for any significant amount of time. But she's not going to say that, not right now--and even if she did, that would just prove Kate's point.
Fuck her. Fuck this. Johanna pinches one corner of her mouth upwards, in a dry smirk. "How do I even know that you can make good on this trade, Katie? I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"
It only took her fifteen throws to nail a bullseye on a weapon she's never used before with almost zero instruction. Everyone but Johanna is impressed. Everyone but Johanna and Kate herself - she's just loving the timing.
Her question gets another roll of Kate's eyes, a laugh and a shake of her head. "You can't even trust that I can get you the weed you don't even want in exchange for the lessons you're not actually giving. Look, I'll get you some for nothing. I'm not sure I know anyone who needs to get high more than you do. Or laid. Or something. Both." And Kate's always had an interest in philanthropy. "Consider it a thank you for making me look like I'm not that tightly wound after all."
The word that sticks there is trust, just the way that it always sticks, even though Kate's using it in a joke. Trust is loaded enough that it does not matter, that she still feels a little prickle of distaste at just the sound of the word in someone else's mouth. She has been both tightly wound and out of control, but there was always a piece of her that stood back and kept watch, a piece of her that was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing comes easy, and everything has a price, and just because Kate is fun to fight with and fun to tease does not mean that Johanna will accept anything from her.
But in Kate's response, she finds her opportunity to claw back to the top. Her smirk crooks at her mouth, a little more self-assured this time. This is familiar territory.
"You think I need your help." Sarcasm loads that word, thick. "That's cute. Those are two very specific offers, Katie. You've got something on your mind." And she bites at her lower lip, just for a second, as if she's got to hold back a wider smirk. When she goes on, her voice is shaded toward the taut again. "If I wanted either of those things, I could get them on my own. From you, or from anyone. Unfortunately for you, I don't accept hand-outs. And I don't trade in favors. But if you actually want lessons, and if you promise to do better than this--"
And she nods toward the target, where the axe is still lodged. Good, but not god enough. "Then you'll have to give me something I can really use."
Johanna surely meant it as bravado and innuendo, especially with the smirk, the teeth in her lip. There's a part of Kate's brain that knows that, a part that catches on the way the bite makes it go red and soft and will remember later what that looks like. The rest doesn't care. What she hears is what she heard before when Johanna threatened to pull out her hair and shove it down her throat. Earlier it got her to stop playing and come fight; now it gets her to stop playing and leave.
Nobody takes anything from me I don't give them, she wants to say, but that's too revealing and not true enough. Even if she could get the words out she'd rather not let Johanna have them. So she just tilts her head like she's considering, shoves down the roiling flare of anger before it can spend more than a split second on her face, and shrugs. Shakes her head, all cool calm. "I'm good."
She leaves the axes where they are and turns from the target, walking past Johanna to where her shirt and shoes are.
The play of emotions that cross Kate's face are quick and interesting--too quick to really make very much of. Whatever's there, whatever Kate is thinking of--well, she composes herself well. That's admirable. But the abruptness of her departure is enough to suggest that Johanna has struck a nerve, somewhere in there. And that means she's come out on top for this round--always satisfying--but there's some sadness to winning so soon, when they could have kept playing.
Of course, she's only thinking this now that she's winning. A few minutes earlier and-- well, Johanna doesn't leave with dignity and grace, the way Kate is leaving. But there would have definitely been an exit made.
She watches Kate walk past her, raises her eyebrows as she observes that cross. "Don't tell me you're leaving. Come on, we were just going to start having fun again, you can't bow out now."
She's dignity and grace, she's Miss United States--. Well, two out of three, at the moment. Kate learned to smile with a stiff upper lip basically in the womb, and she smiles now, a politely slender thing that doesn't make it to her eyes. "I have other places to be," she says, shoving her feet into her shoes. It's efficient but not rushed. Rushing wouldn't send the message she's aiming for here.
She pulls on her shirt, tucks her gun into the back of her sweats. "I'm sure you'll find somebody else to play with. You don't need me, remember? And I need to wash my hair." She flashes Johanna another serene smile and turns her back, heading for the door.
"You have to wash your hair." She repeats those words, with flat incredulity. Come on, Kate--even in Panem, that's the oldest line in the book. "I don't see why. Your hair looks great."
But she's not going to act all needy, or draw this out too much. If Kate wants to run away, whatever. Fine. Typical. She shouldn't have started it if she didn't want to finish it. Johanna crosses her arms over her chest, her hip cocked off to the side as she watches Kate walk away.
"Oh, I get it. Excuses," she sighs, when Kate is nearly at the door. "I should have expected that. Need any help?"
That's the point, Johanna. Kate could've made up a plausible lie, and she could've delivered it so it sounded real; she just isn't worth the effort. She smiles at the compliment, but continues heading for the door.
There's no literal run in her departure, a casual saunter, checking her comm as she goes, thumb sliding across the screen to start typing a message. She looks back over her shoulder at the door, brows lifting at the offer. Her whole expression is unflappably well-mannered, except for something around the eyes that suggests she's enjoying this. That every word Johanna says, every question and complaint, is another point she's winning.
She smiles again, and shifts head and shoulders in another little shake/shrug. "No thanks, I'm all set." She gives the doorframe a pat, and exits.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alsohawkeye) wrote2024-01-11 07:28 pm
no subject
The miss makes her laugh. Kate's close scrutiny suggests that she won't be satisfied with that, that she's going to follow it up--and sure enough, she takes up the second axe, her eyes still fixed on the target, and Johanna heaves a chiding little sigh, her arms folded over her chest.
"Don't you have any manners? You ask a girl before you take her other axe." And there's no more helpful teacher routine, now that the flirting is done. Johanna just stands in critical observance, her mouth pinched at once side in a smirk.
"Come on, Katie. Impress me."
no subject
Kate retorts without turning, focused on the target and the axe in her hand which she is definitely not putting back down. She does roll her eyes, just in case Johanna thinks she cares about impressing her. She kinda does, but mostly she just dislikes not being excellent. Also being called Katie.
Her next throw still isn't the perfection she'd prefer, but it's closer. It would be a bullseye if it were a couple feet higher, but at least this one makes the edge of the target. She doesn't say anything but her nose and lip twitch into a suggestion of a frown and she heads down the lane to retrieve the axes without waiting for Johanna's commentary.
no subject
And just because Kate's not waiting for her commentary doesn't mean she won't offer it. As her new friend strides away, Johanna calls after her: "Not as easy as archery, is it? But you'll get it. Keep trying."
That might almost be interpreted as encouragement, except for the heavy mockery that shades her tone. Oh well.
no subject
She laughs as she gets to the targets, rocking the axe handles back and forth a couple times until the heads come free. "This is so much easier than archery. It's harder than darts?" You know, if that makes Johanna feel better. She shrugs as she walks back, returning to the rough throw line they've been working with. Two more tosses, each closer than the last. She hasn't quite got the proper elbow angle down yet but she's getting there.
no subject
But really: who is Johanna Mason, except Johanna.
Anyways, Kate is still fun to watch. Johanna's not wandering off any time soon, and not just because Kate's got her axes. After the second toss, Johanna cocks her right eyebrow, just a little, her mouth still pinched in that smirk.
"So you're a good archer... and this is easier than archery." She draws an invisible line between the two points, in mid-air. "Does that mean you suck at archery, because you suck at this."
no subject
"I've been doing this for ten minutes," she says, doing her best to keep her tone dry instead of defensive and not rise to Johanna's bait this time, "And I had a shitty teacher. Give me an hour and some actual training and I'll trim your hair at this distance." Two more throws, inching nearer the center.
no subject
It's not that much of a pleasure, much as she's enjoying the view. She shifts her weight again, with an exaggerated sigh.
"Whatever it is, it'd better be good."
no subject
She looks over her shoulder at Johanna and cocks a brow. "What do you want?" It's meant to sound more skeptical than suggestive - and does, as much as that wording can - but this conversation's kind of a moving target.
no subject
But she doesn't like to think of the Tributes, or her empty fucking house in the Victor's Village, or anything to do with Panem, no more than she's got to think about it. Yes, she's a shitty coach. So what.
Kate's next question is way more interesting than a review of Johanna's advice, and even a little more interesting than her stretching routine--and that's saying something. Johanna lets one eyebrow creep upwards again.
"What do I want," she repeats, thoughtfully. There might yet be a touch of lingering suggestiveness there. "What do I want, I wonder. What do I want from you? Is that what you're asking?"
no subject
She pulls her arm over her head and tugs down in the elbow. "I'm not opposed to an exchange but you might have to actually teach me something if you want anything back." This entire topic is an innuendo minefield but any implication here is unintentional; all Kate's thinking about are axes and maybe archery or something in return.
She's never really taught anyone to shoot before unless you count a few unofficial lessons with Cassie years ago (and Cassie's as dead as any of Johanna's tributes). But the only formal teaching she has done is self-defense classes and clearly Johanna doesn't need those. Probably she doesn't want archery lessons either. Now that she thinks about it Kate has really no idea what sort of trade they could make since the only part of this she seems not to hate is getting to watch Kate and make fun of her and that's not really a currency she's a fan of. She has a stockpile of half-decent alcohol and knows where to get pot, but--. Actually.
Her head tilts just slightly and she looks at Johanna with a speculative eye. She's trying to imagine her high, but doesn't offer up that option/explanation right away. Johanna Mason giggly is not an easy thing to picture.
no subject
But Kate's offer is different. A little smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, first. That's the best part, Kate not knowing what she's really said. There was a small moment where it seemed as if she might, but--no.
And there's answers that she could give--answers that might stir things up a little more, mess with her head--but does she actually want to teach her anything? The current arrangement is just fine, for Johanna. She gets a laugh, an a fight. Why not?
"Who says I want to teach you anything?" She folds her arms over her chest, her hip cocked--and gets a proper look at Kate's face, the narrow close gaze. "What's that look for."
no subject
As for the look, she just smirks. She was going to tell her, but for the first time since they stopped wrestling she feels like she has an advantage, however minor. "Do you smoke?" Different worlds, she remembers after a second and clarifies a little: "Have you ever been high?"
no subject
"You're probably a crappy student anyways," she tells Kate, tartly, determined to take some of the life out of that smirk. "I don't have all day to waste my time on charity cases, Katie. But I might let you practice with me, if you ask really nicely. Why," almost in the same breath, all without missing a beat, "are you asking."
no subject
"I'm an excellent student," she replies, confidence unshaken by the dig. If Johanna wants to rattle her, this isn't the way to do it. (She was on a much better route earlier.) "But whatever you want to call it."
She spins an axe in her hand and looks back to the target like she's considering throwing some more, like she might just let Johanna's question hang in the air a while. But she doesn't, shrugging. "Just curious. I could hook up a trade, but you probably wouldn't be interested in that." It's classic reverse psychology and she doesn't bother to be subtle about it, another little smirk curving her mouth as she glances at Johanna through her lashes and then turns back to the bullseye. Now would be a good time for one.
no subject
Right now, though, Johanna's mouth twitches a little, hitching downwards toward a scowl. She does not like the look of her axe in Kate's hard right now, but she manages not to leap on her and snatch it back.
"If I'm not interested, it's just because that's not a trade of equal value." She's too irritated to drawl out her response, as she might have done if she had a better command of herself. "One little hookup from you wouldn't repay lessons from me. But go on and tell me why you think I wouldn't be interested."
no subject
The irritation just feeds her smug calm, and she takes her time before answering, lining up the throw, winding up as her breathing slows, stepping, swinging, and releasing. It's a dead center bullseye and she is insufferably pleased, barely restraining a grin. She licks at her lower lip as the smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, digs teeth into the swell of it to hold back her glee. Clint likes to say she's about nine years old and spoiled rotten and he also likes to say she's perfect; this is what he means.
She shrugs and runs a hand over her hair, tucking a lock back behind an ear. "Because it might help you relax a little." Why she would and wouldn't want it, in one.
no subject
And she's not, actually, interested in relaxing. Even if she was, she wouldn't know how to do it, not any longer, not for any significant amount of time. But she's not going to say that, not right now--and even if she did, that would just prove Kate's point.
Fuck her. Fuck this. Johanna pinches one corner of her mouth upwards, in a dry smirk. "How do I even know that you can make good on this trade, Katie? I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"
no subject
Her question gets another roll of Kate's eyes, a laugh and a shake of her head. "You can't even trust that I can get you the weed you don't even want in exchange for the lessons you're not actually giving. Look, I'll get you some for nothing. I'm not sure I know anyone who needs to get high more than you do. Or laid. Or something. Both." And Kate's always had an interest in philanthropy. "Consider it a thank you for making me look like I'm not that tightly wound after all."
no subject
But in Kate's response, she finds her opportunity to claw back to the top. Her smirk crooks at her mouth, a little more self-assured this time. This is familiar territory.
"You think I need your help." Sarcasm loads that word, thick. "That's cute. Those are two very specific offers, Katie. You've got something on your mind." And she bites at her lower lip, just for a second, as if she's got to hold back a wider smirk. When she goes on, her voice is shaded toward the taut again. "If I wanted either of those things, I could get them on my own. From you, or from anyone. Unfortunately for you, I don't accept hand-outs. And I don't trade in favors. But if you actually want lessons, and if you promise to do better than this--"
And she nods toward the target, where the axe is still lodged. Good, but not god enough. "Then you'll have to give me something I can really use."
no subject
Nobody takes anything from me I don't give them, she wants to say, but that's too revealing and not true enough. Even if she could get the words out she'd rather not let Johanna have them. So she just tilts her head like she's considering, shoves down the roiling flare of anger before it can spend more than a split second on her face, and shrugs. Shakes her head, all cool calm. "I'm good."
She leaves the axes where they are and turns from the target, walking past Johanna to where her shirt and shoes are.
no subject
Of course, she's only thinking this now that she's winning. A few minutes earlier and-- well, Johanna doesn't leave with dignity and grace, the way Kate is leaving. But there would have definitely been an exit made.
She watches Kate walk past her, raises her eyebrows as she observes that cross. "Don't tell me you're leaving. Come on, we were just going to start having fun again, you can't bow out now."
no subject
She pulls on her shirt, tucks her gun into the back of her sweats. "I'm sure you'll find somebody else to play with. You don't need me, remember? And I need to wash my hair." She flashes Johanna another serene smile and turns her back, heading for the door.
no subject
But she's not going to act all needy, or draw this out too much. If Kate wants to run away, whatever. Fine. Typical. She shouldn't have started it if she didn't want to finish it. Johanna crosses her arms over her chest, her hip cocked off to the side as she watches Kate walk away.
"Oh, I get it. Excuses," she sighs, when Kate is nearly at the door. "I should have expected that. Need any help?"
no subject
There's no literal run in her departure, a casual saunter, checking her comm as she goes, thumb sliding across the screen to start typing a message. She looks back over her shoulder at the door, brows lifting at the offer. Her whole expression is unflappably well-mannered, except for something around the eyes that suggests she's enjoying this. That every word Johanna says, every question and complaint, is another point she's winning.
She smiles again, and shifts head and shoulders in another little shake/shrug. "No thanks, I'm all set." She gives the doorframe a pat, and exits.