[ She's cautious when he replies. Almost stepping back, but looking at what he holds again instead. Does she expect him to apologize? Carry on about how he wasn't there for her as long as he could have been? Truthfully? No. He thought she was Elena. So did she. Apparently Stefan never did, the longer she thinks about it. Why wouldn't Damon be hurt, given the set of circumstances Katherine has been made privy to, even if she doesn't understand all of them on a firsthand level.
A sound, one that could serve to gently interrupt starts to rise in her throat. About how she doesn't know what her favorites would be. Then again, there Damon goes. She stares at the bottle until he adds that she likes old bourbon, finally stepping ahead and reaching to take it from him. As if she hasn't had alcohol presented to her like this before, looking down at it as she turns the bottle slightly.
The memories of how often she might have liked to drink before, though, those certainly aren't rising. So, she sort of is unfamiliar. As he adds that, closer proximity made in getting the bourbon, her forehead creases as she meets his eyes. A soft smile. ] Yeah? That was...thoughtful. Thank you. I could use something like that.
[ She takes a step then, intending to head toward the living room, stopping and giving herself a look down over her front. Then back to Damon. If he's put off by the low amount of clothes she's sporting, she figures he'll say so. She starts to move again. ] Is this [ a beat and light gesture with the bottle toward him ] one of your favorites? [ She never wanted him to leave as he did, so of course she's going to try relating more to what there is to know about the one Damon Salvatore. Are they going to drink it without glasses like heathens? Whether from habit (that's trying to creep up) or still being not entirely with it, she doesn't think to get any. ]
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A sound, one that could serve to gently interrupt starts to rise in her throat. About how she doesn't know what her favorites would be. Then again, there Damon goes. She stares at the bottle until he adds that she likes old bourbon, finally stepping ahead and reaching to take it from him. As if she hasn't had alcohol presented to her like this before, looking down at it as she turns the bottle slightly.
The memories of how often she might have liked to drink before, though, those certainly aren't rising. So, she sort of is unfamiliar. As he adds that, closer proximity made in getting the bourbon, her forehead creases as she meets his eyes. A soft smile. ] Yeah? That was...thoughtful. Thank you. I could use something like that.
[ She takes a step then, intending to head toward the living room, stopping and giving herself a look down over her front. Then back to Damon. If he's put off by the low amount of clothes she's sporting, she figures he'll say so. She starts to move again. ] Is this [ a beat and light gesture with the bottle toward him ] one of your favorites? [ She never wanted him to leave as he did, so of course she's going to try relating more to what there is to know about the one Damon Salvatore. Are they going to drink it without glasses like heathens? Whether from habit (that's trying to creep up) or still being not entirely with it, she doesn't think to get any. ]