Ted sighed into his beer as he watched Michelle walk towards him. Over the course of the past 2 days she had insisted upon being everywhere he was. When he woke up, she was hanging out with his sister or his mother, when he went out, somehow she was already there. Enough was enough, really. It was bad enough avoiding Janey, but now Michelle, too? Maybe if he just didn't look at her. He cast his eyes to the left, even better. Janey was sitting at the bar her head thrown back, a giggle bubbling past her throat. He didn't want to look at that either. His last chance. He rose, making a beeline for the far end of the bar, nodding to the tender when he appointed to the appropriate tap. Even after being away for months, a regular was still a regular.
The warmth of another body made his skin crawl. Someone was behind him. He wouldn't turn. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He wanted to be left--
"Yeah, lemme get a margarita on the rocks and a Red Bull and vodka." The voice was unfamiliar, but comforting. Smooth with sentences ending with what sounded like a hint of a giggle. He turned slowly, from what he could see with his peripheral vision, beside him stood an Asian woman with hair the color of honey mixed in with thicker platinum blonde chunks. Her eyes were a deep brown, and her smile was enough to shut out any thoughts of... of... he smiled to himself, distraction was a good thing.
"Can I buy those drinks?" The voice was low and gentle, with a hint of amusement.
"Thanks, but no thanks." He turned fully then, looking up to her. Blue eyes the color of ice were locked on her own. he barely turned his face towards the tender, his eyes still on hers as he smiled.
"Ramon, make sure those two go on my tab." The tender nodded and was gone before she could speak. "Ted, and your welcome."
She laughed at his audacity, shaking her head. "You think you're pretty fucking smooth, don't you?" He couldn't tell whether her smile was a good thing or a bad, it just seemed honest either way.
"I don't know." He entwined his fingers, resting them on the bar and leaning his weight forward upon them before looking up over his shoulder at her. "Do you?"
"Not really."
"Then, no. Relatively not smooth. Somewhat rough. Are you smooth?" She laughed again.
"No."
"Then who are you?" He seemed a bit strange, perhaps socially nervous? She extended a hand.
"Mika."
"Mika?"
"Yes, Mika."