( it's a little silly, what the flower extended towards her does to sara; for someone so tough as nails, for someone so hardened and expertly trained at handling emotions, it's so easy for steve to practically melt her completely, make sheer warmth and happiness wash over her. it's been that way ever since the first time she laid eyes on him, a little shy in her doorway and offering a flower as his greeting.
it's his uncompromising honesty and sincerity — sara thinks, as her fingers curl around the stem of the flower, pulls it close to her chest — that gets to her, present even at his own detriment when he admits to being distracted by her. it's rare and refreshing for her, makes the smile on her face bloom into a full-fledged grin as steve continues. )
Oh? ( asked as though she doesn't know where he's going with this, as if she hadn't seen the announcement about the ball on the network. sara's happy to let him have this moment, more than happy he'd chosen her to share it with. )
[ Maybe it's good that they know, but they don't know. Not every little detail. Not all the things that they might want to hide under shadows and baggage. They know they're there. They exist. They've revealed things about one another through small comments and things they don't say. Looks when a topic is breached. He's perfectly capable of comprehending that Sara Lance could be very lethal. Maybe she thinks he's a little too good and maybe he believes in her a little too much, but those aren't necessarily bad things.
Steve lets go of the flower and smiles as she takes it from him finally. Right now he just takes her in like this. Messy hair (though he's not sure where or how), not expecting visitors and enjoying her solitude. He could stand out here in the hallway and stare at her for the better part of the evening if he was presented with that choice. It'd probably be creepy, but still.
But he needs to use words. He needs to say what he came here to say. To ask what he wanted. Steve clears his throat and nods. ] Do you wanna maybe go to the ball with me? As my date?
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it's his uncompromising honesty and sincerity — sara thinks, as her fingers curl around the stem of the flower, pulls it close to her chest — that gets to her, present even at his own detriment when he admits to being distracted by her. it's rare and refreshing for her, makes the smile on her face bloom into a full-fledged grin as steve continues. )
Oh? ( asked as though she doesn't know where he's going with this, as if she hadn't seen the announcement about the ball on the network. sara's happy to let him have this moment, more than happy he'd chosen her to share it with. )
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Steve lets go of the flower and smiles as she takes it from him finally. Right now he just takes her in like this. Messy hair (though he's not sure where or how), not expecting visitors and enjoying her solitude. He could stand out here in the hallway and stare at her for the better part of the evening if he was presented with that choice. It'd probably be creepy, but still.
But he needs to use words. He needs to say what he came here to say. To ask what he wanted. Steve clears his throat and nods. ] Do you wanna maybe go to the ball with me? As my date?