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His apologetic look softened her sharp edges for a moment, visibly, before she shivered like a bird ruffling her feathers and steeled herself. Her cheeks puffed out a little as she wrinkled her nose at him. "Damn right ya should've," she grumbled, but stilled her anger just a little. After all, she knew his career couldn't be any cake walk. He had a rough job, and there were days that she knew wore him down. But it was another reason she fretted over him. His profession was dangerous, and if it wasn't the criminals that were the reason for her looking over her shoulder, there was a world of other criminals he dealt with on a day to day basis. They both had bones to pick about each other's careers. His, for the danger. Her, for the occasional client that could get a little too touchy, sometimes even too obsessed. <br/>
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"Glare if I wanna," she muttered at him, just squinting her eyes that tiniest bit in pure defiance as she lifted the filter of her cigarette to her lips in the midst. Yet, she'd noticed the way he'd looked at her cigarette. Turning her head just that little bit more, she eyed him and held out the cigarette case to him. "Mn?" A grunt that turned into a mutter of <i>fucker </i>under her breath, keeping up the glare even in her offering. The offer was put on pause as he came closer and she made a face at him like she knew what was happening next. Axel was the only one who could get away with hugging her. Any other man would get a mouthful of her knuckles, and even the girls she worked with had learned not to hug her. Just out of the sheer awkwardness of how rigid she got, like hugging a telephone pole. Occasionally, she might give that uncomfortable <i>pat pat </i>to their back, but they knew she was just counting the seconds for it to be over. Eventually, they learned to just not hug Tempest. Axel on the other hand, knew one of her biggest milestones of the gesture was where the fuck to put her hands. She honestly didn't have a clue, as if the abuse she'd endured had murdered the memories of how to simply hug someone properly. Muttering incoherently under her breath as he positioned her arm, she edged closer in shuffling little steps. Her other arm wound around his shoulder, resting against his shoulder blade as she propped her chin on his shoulder. <br/>
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The brush of his lips on her ear sent a chill along her spine, a quiver she had to forcibly contain as she briefly closed those glaring eyes. "It ain't about you lookin' after me, Axel. But I believe you," she murmured softly. The sheer warmth of his embrace and his comforting words eased the rest of the constriction in her chest, chiseled the cold rigidness from her. Contrasting, the muscular hardness of his frame from years training and the scent of him tickling her nostrils left knots just below her navel. His own scent mixed with the leather of the beautiful car behind him, the other woman she willingly shared him with - though, she'd claim that his woman needed a mistress. Naturally, she meant herself. <br/>
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Her eyes opened when she felt the kiss to her head, and she gave him a squeeze in the embrace before pulling back from him. The tornado in her seemed to have dulled to a thunderstorm as she exhaled, and the offer of a cigarette was a touch less aggressive. At least she'd stopped glaring at him for the most part. "I do wanna go home," she groaned. "It's been ten minutes and I'm already tired of pants," she complained, but she paused from her groaning to stare at him. He seemed to have gotten her attention with the promise of something in the car, and she tipped a lean to the side to peer around him into the window of the car. "What kinda somethin'?" She muttered, her curiosity obviously piqued. "It wouldn't happen to be greasy heaven between two buns?" She lifted her eyes to him, one brow arching sharply before she chewed on her bottom lip. She claimed dancing worked up an appetite... but really, she just loved food. Especially if it was red meat. The Texan was a red blooded carnivore through and through, and one surefire way to win her over was through her stomach. The remnants of her anger seemed to evaporate as she shifted on her feet. "Mn..... you're forgiven," she relented. She shot him a look before pointing the fingers scissored around her cigarette at him. "But if I text you pineapples, ya better send me some peaches back, got it Crowe?" Her own tone was stern, her expression set with firmness. It was no surprise she was a Taurus. Stubborn as a bull with the horns to show for it. </span>