Maeve doesn't come after him, which... doesn't feel like a great sign. Steve stands at the bar with his beer and tells himself that he has no right to be upset or jealous. Any flare of anger he felt fades almost instantly, and he's just left feeling incredibly bummed.
This is his own fault. He got too deep into it, booking weekend getaways and thinking about Christmas presents, and he mostly just feels like kind of an idiot. They never once talked about being exclusive, or being in any sort of official relationship, and Steve let his mind go there anyway.
By the time Maeve does find him, he's still standing there nursing the same beer, tracing random patterns in the condensation on the glass with his fingertip as it rests on the bar. She touches his arm and he takes a breath like he's steeling himself, and then turns to look at her.
"Hey," he says quietly, because he doesn't know what else to say. He shifts awkwardly and clears his throat as he reaches up to push his hand through his hair. "Do you want another drink?"
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This is his own fault. He got too deep into it, booking weekend getaways and thinking about Christmas presents, and he mostly just feels like kind of an idiot. They never once talked about being exclusive, or being in any sort of official relationship, and Steve let his mind go there anyway.
By the time Maeve does find him, he's still standing there nursing the same beer, tracing random patterns in the condensation on the glass with his fingertip as it rests on the bar. She touches his arm and he takes a breath like he's steeling himself, and then turns to look at her.
"Hey," he says quietly, because he doesn't know what else to say. He shifts awkwardly and clears his throat as he reaches up to push his hand through his hair. "Do you want another drink?"