Every Move You Make [RDJ] - IN PROGRESS

Five

Her red dress scrapes against the pavement of the sidewalk in the alley way next to the building we've just exited.  I forget we're next to a hotel, so I'll be a bit pissed if someone sees this and shares it.  Not for me, but for her.  It's dark, though.  Hopefully not.

This strong willed girl who's been nothing but a rock against me is now tripping over the dress below her heels, muttering apologies, and has her hands squeezing her nails into her arms so deep I swear she draws blood.  Total one eighty from what I've seen so far. She even glances at me as I pick up the bottom of her dress and politely hold it just a few inches above her ankles so she can see where she's stepping.  As much as I'd love to hike it up further...not the place or time.  At all.  Sometimes I'm a good dude, I guess.

But she jerks slightly as I reach until she realizes what I'm doing is innocent.  Why?

Her back hits the wall of the building as she stumbles, and then it's silent as she closes her eyes and steadies her breathing.  The wind is blowing a bit of her hair through the air, so her face is covered for a while.  I don't move, either.  What the hell do I do?  Do I hug her? It doesn't look like she wants touched.  Should I talk?  If this is anything like I used to deal with, she wants space.  But she isn't me, and she's not a character I have to play, either.

At some point I fold my arms and just watch and wait.  Be patient.  Someone this broken...needs help.  Not a cocky attitude.  Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.  Should I go get her friend, instead?

With a loud exhale, she relaxes. Just like that. Weird as fuck.  

Find something to say, Downey. 

"Panic attack?" I go with.

Dumb question, what the hell?

She thinks so too, judging by that familiar glare that's back.  At least she's okay, then.

"No shit, Sherlock," is her comeback, which results in an awkward laughter next.  "Sorry, sorry... I honestly forgot who I was talking to..."

God, awkward or not, that laugh is a beautiful sound.

But the apology...takes me off guard, and temporarily softens this bad temper that I've been riding for the last few months.  "You do know I'm not actually Sherlock Holmes, right?"

Oh, hey another eye roll; she's distracted...good. "Are you sure? I mean-"

"We're totally different!" I argue.

Okay, so we'll go with the distraction. I'm good at those.  If all else fails, I, myself tend to be a distraction, right?

She's quick to attack me, per usual.  "Maybe him, but Tony?"

Give it to her, dude.  Let her have this win.  Something's obviously gone haywire and she needs it.  You don't.  Stop being a dick for a whole three seconds, maybe this time you'll actually keep a friendship instead of ruining it.

"Tony's more...of a playboy. Something I'm not."  It's not a lie. Life's been...dry, recently.

She blushes.

Huh, look at that.  One mention of sex and she's flustered, even mid panic.  Interesting. 

"Thank you," she offers quietly. "You have one before?"

Conversation, cool.  "Panic attacks?  Used to. Not much anymore. But I've gotta act them for my next role, so I'm refreshed in my expertise, I guess."

Probably shouldn't have said that, but didn't specifically say Tony, right?

But her words are dripping with sarcasm.  "Right, what would you possibly have to panic about? The entire world loves you."