[no, maybe hawk doesn't know embry the way ash or morgan or greer or any of the bevy of others like red lipstick woman knew embry. but he'd thought he was getting at least an honest piece of it all the same - whoever embry was deciding to be without all of them breathing down his neck, or without having to look up at maxen fucking colchester from his feet in worship like modern idolatry. he's had the decency to keep tim out of this (even when embry won't), and yet the man still keeps a grip on him that has done more than intrude. one wrong text, the right move in bed - and there he is again, reflected in those baby blues like he's in the goddamn room orchestrating the whole thing. maybe he's a little fed up. he'd been willing to let it slide when he was too bruised over the loss of senator smith to protest, grateful to have company in a moment of unbearable weakness as one of the pillars of his entire world was torn down - but now?

now it's back to the real world, and he's not willing to play so nice anymore.

not when embry's going to disregard the instincts hawk has honed to protect his ass - warranted or not, and not when he's going to play coy like whatever the fuck this is hasn't drastically changed from the day they set foot in lyonesse. christ, it's not like he's looking for something high school like a relationship or a label. but sometimes embry acts like they're in one anyway, or at least has the nerve to throw shit in his face and then get hurt when hawk dishes it right back.

he's about to refill both their glasses out of habit, because despite his original plan to try and do something nice for embry like he'd hinted at - the kind of thing that probably sends that same mixed message he's pissed off about receiving - he's not about to kick the guy out. not because he signs his checks, and not because he doesn't deserve it for waltzing in here acting every shade of childish, but because maybe this is just foreplay and he'll fuck the truth out of him later, when he's pushing him onto the bed and making him rethink every snide comment and hissy fit he's constantly throwing. maybe he just likes the fight.

maybe his own considerations need to feel earned.

or maybe he's just constantly throwing shit at a wall to figure out embry, hoping it'll stick and failing miserably.]

Is that how you put it to her? I'm sure it went over real well. Or did you come to this revelation after she tried to stick her tongue in your mouth?

[suddenly that familiar waft of cologne is under his nose, the precise flavor this scotch gets when it's sucked off embry's lips tempting him unreasonably to just give in and lean down to taste it. but the fingertips trailing his wrist wrap around hard, and hawk sets down the bottle so it isn't another casualty of today.]

Did I say anything about wanting you to go?

[his wrist twists, fingers jerking around at the right angle to reverse their positions and wrap snug against embry's instead in one fluid motion. he pulls embry flush against him, wondering if there will be a struggle, another fuck you cast out casually.]

You seem to be reading into a lot these days. Seems more like there's something on your mind.

[a beat, and his voice lowers into the rough, graveled timbre when he's demanded embry pull him out or hold off his bliss a little longer.]

Actually, maybe it's someone.