marta reels for a moment, but fortunately that look of alarm that flashes across her face could easily be mistaken for the look of a nervous new wife fleeing from her old life. when he prompts her to speak, her eyes widen, her look hardens. it's not betrayal, but indignation. does he want to be thrown up on??? ]
We... do need clothes.
[ she pauses to swallow back the faint tickle of nausea in her throat — it's certainly no lie, but somehow knowing it's wrapped up in deception is enough to get that annoying reflex of hers to pique its metaphorical head up in interest
she forces a smile on her face as she shifts against kovacs' hold, turning so she's leaning into him a little, one hand coming up to pat his chest like she isn't also considering throttling him in some way. blessedly, the smile looks friendly, and not too much like a grimace.
"Well you've come to the right place!" the shop assistant prompts, gesturing to the racks of clothing around them. ]
We'll take a few of those behind you to a fitting room, [ marta pipes up almost instantly, gesturing towards a row of sweaters and sweatervests — the same style he was so adamantly against just seconds before. she turns to kovacs then, flashing a smile that's all teeth and edge. ]
It might be nice to change things up a little, won't it... babe?
[ kovacs hasn't forgotten about marta's little problem, and maybe that's the idea behind the little challenge he throws out there, investing in a new backstory this time around, compared to the more easily believable circumstances he'd set up for them as business partners over in badrock. all it takes is one glance and he could see the panic set in on her expression.
the smirk plastered along his lips, a little proud of the teasing joke, is helpless, still there even when marta gestures out to the collection of clothing she's well aware is far from his style.
instead of looking to the assistant, he turns to keep his attention on the woman right beside him, his fingers giving her shoulder a light squeeze. ]
Oh, I don't think so. You know how it just feels like suffocation when I wear those things. [ he gives a vague waving gesture with his free hand, indicating the assortment of sweaters. ] Then again — [ he peers over at a different rack, reaching for a hanger to hold up a small, seemingly tight dress, one that might show more skin than it covers. ] Might be able to compromise if you show off a few of these for me.
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marta reels for a moment, but fortunately that look of alarm that flashes across her face could easily be mistaken for the look of a nervous new wife fleeing from her old life. when he prompts her to speak, her eyes widen, her look hardens. it's not betrayal, but indignation. does he want to be thrown up on??? ]
We... do need clothes.
[ she pauses to swallow back the faint tickle of nausea in her throat — it's certainly no lie, but somehow knowing it's wrapped up in deception is enough to get that annoying reflex of hers to pique its metaphorical head up in interest
she forces a smile on her face as she shifts against kovacs' hold, turning so she's leaning into him a little, one hand coming up to pat his chest like she isn't also considering throttling him in some way. blessedly, the smile looks friendly, and not too much like a grimace.
"Well you've come to the right place!" the shop assistant prompts, gesturing to the racks of clothing around them. ]
We'll take a few of those behind you to a fitting room, [ marta pipes up almost instantly, gesturing towards a row of sweaters and sweatervests — the same style he was so adamantly against just seconds before. she turns to kovacs then, flashing a smile that's all teeth and edge. ]
It might be nice to change things up a little, won't it... babe?
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the smirk plastered along his lips, a little proud of the teasing joke, is helpless, still there even when marta gestures out to the collection of clothing she's well aware is far from his style.
instead of looking to the assistant, he turns to keep his attention on the woman right beside him, his fingers giving her shoulder a light squeeze. ]
Oh, I don't think so. You know how it just feels like suffocation when I wear those things. [ he gives a vague waving gesture with his free hand, indicating the assortment of sweaters. ] Then again — [ he peers over at a different rack, reaching for a hanger to hold up a small, seemingly tight dress, one that might show more skin than it covers. ] Might be able to compromise if you show off a few of these for me.