The quirk of his eyebrow in response is almost Spock-like, as if Blake can't imagines what Sabine means. His eyes shift to one side and then he leans to the other side, looking back over his shoulder like he might be expecting her to be talking to someone else.
"Who, me? What—" He feels the trickle of rainwater crawl down behind his ear and settle in his collar — (How is even possible that he's still so damn wet that he's dripping?) — and Blake resists and resists and resists, but a tremor shudders through him that he's forced to fight off with a sip of lukewarm black coffee.
"You just said the Bathroom Cowboy, which is not somethin' I've ever heard of outside of Brokeback Mountain," Blake says, confused in his own right because it seems obvious to him. "What kinda face should I be makin'?"
(And maybe more importantly, why does this coffee taste so familiar? He can't quite place it, but everything from taste to temperature to where it hits on the back of the tongue reads like déjà vu.)
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"Who, me? What—" He feels the trickle of rainwater crawl down behind his ear and settle in his collar — (How is even possible that he's still so damn wet that he's dripping?) — and Blake resists and resists and resists, but a tremor shudders through him that he's forced to fight off with a sip of lukewarm black coffee.
"You just said the Bathroom Cowboy, which is not somethin' I've ever heard of outside of Brokeback Mountain," Blake says, confused in his own right because it seems obvious to him. "What kinda face should I be makin'?"
(And maybe more importantly, why does this coffee taste so familiar? He can't quite place it, but everything from taste to temperature to where it hits on the back of the tongue reads like déjà vu.)