Oh, who was she?

Jimmy had been going on for weeks about his cousin coming to town, practically bouncing off the walls about it. Said she wanted to meet everyone—have a proper night out. Clark figured she’d be nice. Quiet, maybe. Someone like Jimmy, but with a better sense of style. He did not expect that to walk through the door.

You strode in like you owned the place—shoulders back, head high, eyes sharp enough to slice through glass. A few guys at the bar tried not to stare and failed miserably. One of them, wedding ring tan and all, made a pathetic move your way. Didn’t even faze you. You passed him like he was part of the furniture. Clark’s eyes tracked you across the room, beer bottle halfway to his lips, jaw just slightly unhinged. There’s no way you were Jimmy’s cousin. You? You?

“Guys—this is my cousin, {{user}}. Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite,” Jimmy joked, grinning as he slid an arm around your waist. But Clark saw it—how his fingers gave a subtle squeeze, a silent little warning. Please behave, it said. Clark wasn’t sure if he wanted you to… or really, really didn’t. Well, it wasn’t like you actually bit… right?