<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">“I think it’s exactly what we’re doing,” she replied, bringing the bottle to her lips to take another sip of her drink. Truth be told, in a game of ‘Who Could Be the Most Irritating’ she was almost positive that Wes would win, hands down. Though she enjoyed the thrill of a challenge they had their fair share of competition in many forms that evening; from the monsters they faced in the woods to  hitting a bullseye with sneaky disruptions and persistent distractions, a break was what they both needed-- a temporary truce from driving one another crazy. It was fun, though. The irksome qualities that made her sigh and roll her eyes made her laugh now, and the lopsided mischievous grin was far more charming than it had been before. Even now it was making her smile, though something did make her wary of what was going on in that head of his. The Hunter was unpredictable. She never knew what was going to come out of his mouth, whether it was going to be some terribly specific movie or T.V. show reference, or a snarky quip. She didn’t know whether he was going to be reliable or reckless. His spontaneous nature made her uneasy. For someone who was structured and disciplined, she found comfort in sticking to a plan and following the rules. At the same time he excited her, and made her feel <i>“normal.”</i><br/>
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Still she was wary of the way his smile broadened, her brow rising in suspicion as he dipped down and threw her over his shoulder. “Wes!” Ava held tight to her drink, not spilling a drop as he carried her over to the pool table. Approving whistles and cheers from encouraging patrons sounded, and the brunette was grateful she couldn’t see beyond the cascade of dark locks that obscured her vision, to see them whisper among themselves as if they all knew what was going to happen next. He set her down finally and she huffed, a hand gently raking her hair away from her face. “Oh, is that what you’re doing? Letting me rest my legs on this pool table rather than in the twenty unoccupied seats at the bar?” She said, placing her drink down on the faded felt surface. She knew he was up to something as he stepped in close, between her legs so that they were practically face to face. Ava maintained her composure, outwardly at least. Though she tried to tell herself that this was yet another attempt to make her look foolish, she could stop the response. For the third time that evening she was stunned to the point of stillness, unable to make a move to remove his hands from her hips where they rested. <br/>
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Her heart pumped powerfully in her chest, a drum beating on her rib cage as his eyes met hers. Ava was helpless to his stare or the inviting warmth that emitted from his body. Like a moth to a flame, she gravitated to it, bringing them chest to chest; the sturdiness of his torso against the plush, softness of her breasts. It was difficult to focus on his words when she was struggling to resist him, knowing that at any second he could pull away and leave her flushed and frustrated. He was testing her resolve, and by the way she leaned into him and the way she inclined her chin expectantly, her determination to stick to her earlier request was quite weak. All it took was a lean to bring their lips together, and though she was surprised at first she was not so caught off guard that she was unable to reciprocate. It was almost the same as the spontaneous liplock that he stole from her in the woods, more delicate but with a similar rush of passion unlike anything she had ever felt before. As his hands glided from the curve of her hips up to her petite middle, her own found their place against his shoulders, trailing up to his neck gently. In the absence of the fear of invasive images, she savored the taste of his lips, the traces of whiskey mixing with the hints of citrus on her own. Even the little voice in the back of her mind cautioned her from getting too close to the Hunter was silent. <br/>
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Without all the alarms and whistles to hold her back, she was able to enjoy the kiss, lose herself in the seconds that passed. Her thighs tightened around him, legs wrapping around his waist. It was clear that she didn’t want it to end, but gradually the slow and tender kiss slowed and their lips parted. Ava took a breath, and unsteadily air shuddered out as she released it. Her heart was still thumping madly, even more so as her green eyes met his once again. He was asking something of her, and she blinked softly as if coming out of a lust-induced trans. The Hunter wanted to know more about her, and while she would have been less inclined to divulge more details about herself than she already had, it seemed like a fair ask-- especially now that they had kissed <i>twice</i>. “Well . . .” Ava began, her hands sliding from their place on either side of his neck back to his shoulders. Trying to find a suitable place for them while she spoke was troublesome. She didn’t want to let go, and yet she felt as though she couldn’t think clearly. The desire to have them roam was a powerful temptation, to let them feel their way down his chest, trace his abs with her fingertips and explore him further. Her palms finally settled against his arms, residing there while she figured out a good place to start. <br/>
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<i>Tell me about yourself</i> was a hard question, and it seemed that everything she knew about her life and her interests suddenly disappeared from her brain. He knew she was born and raised in Louisiana, that she came from a family of hunters, and that she had a sister. He knew that she was adopted, and that she could fight and shoot. None of that was terribly personal, other than her unusual upbringing. He probably wanted to know something interesting . . . Yet again, she was stumped. There wasn’t much exciting about her, but she’d allow him to judge for himself. “I like to read, mainly fiction regarding the supernatural and science fiction, old classics like Frankenstein by Mary Shelley or Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne. I could read those over and over again. I play the piano. I was forced to learn when I was young, but I actually enjoy it now that I can appreciate it. I’m ambidextrous, yet again something I was forced to acquire, but also comes in handy. I’m . . . more of a wine drinker-- white wine, though I might indulge in a blend sometimes. Otherise, Vodka or Brandy. Occasionally, when I happen to be in the middle of nowhere in a hole in the wall bar, I’ll have a beer.” She gestured to the drink sitting beside her before she went on, continuing while ideas were fresh in her mind. <br/>
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“My favorite color is <i>yellow</i>, believe it or not. I won’t wear it, but I like its brightness. I like thunderstorms, puzzles, and really long bubble baths. And, I dislike clowns, the smell of lavender, and cemeteries . . . Did you get all of that?” Ava laughed, her palms going behind her and against the worn green table. “What about you? I don’t know much about you either . . .” It wasn’t entirely true. She knew more than she let on, and she knew more than she was probably supposed to know: about his past, his wife and child, and the terrible tragedy they all suffered. Ava hoped to stay on the lighter side of things, leaving it up to him how personal or how deep he wanted to go. </span>