[Room 15, with Michael]

[notinthebook]

 She's got the brand-new bottle of Johnny Walker Blue in one hand when she knocks at the door of Room 15, feeling unaccountably nervous.  

It's not like this is weird, or anything.  It's not like she thinks he'll be unhappy to see her -- or the whiskey.  And she wants to know how the latest mission went, whether there were more crab-monsters involved, or...whatever might be out there.

(But they haven't talked, alone, since her stint as bartender and the fight they'd had, which, in retrospect...she doesn't even remember how it got started, or why.  That feeling of sinking unhappiness is pretty immediately recognizable, though.)

If asked, she might not even be able to say why she's here, aside from the simplest reason she can put in words: she wanted to see him.

I miss you, he'd written, once.

Well, the feeling's mutual.

Comments

[luvs_yogurt]

"Not necessarily need," he sighs, "I might put a shirt on."

If he's insisting on interrupting his evening of not working, fine... he can deal with seeing boxer shorts.

"I'm almost hoping it's nothing, this doesn't need to get any more complicated than it already is."

As if on awkward cue, the practiced room service knock at the door sounds and Michael's quick to answer it, still not bothering with clothes. "Sorry I can't make it dinner in bed."

[notinthebook]

"Hey, it's fine."

She gives him a crooked sort of smile, raking fingers through her hair to try and neaten it from where his had tangled and caught in the curls.

"As long as he's not planning on staying the night. I might put my foot down about that."

The food smells great, and she glances over at it in the middle of tugging her shirt back over her head.

Her eyes might go to Michael, too. That last thing he said before Barry called...she's got the sinking feeling that tonight might not go as smooth as she'd hoped, regardless.

[luvs_yogurt]

"I'll physically remove him before it comes to that," he raises an eyebrow, serious but not without a hint of humor.

Still, he watches with thinly veiled annoyance as the attendant sets their meal at the small table tucked away in the suite's breakfast nook - complete with a rosebud vase and bottles of mineral water. After getting his tip, the silent man leaves them to their meal.

"Lets eat, I don't want to deal with him on an empty stomach." Really, he doesn't want to deal with him at all - but he got the impression that there was little choice in the matter.

[notinthebook]

Her smile widens, a little, as she sits down, long legs folding under the table, feet bare against the plush carpet. "I'm all right with that."

Dinner looks pretty awesome: there's plenty of good seafood in Maine, but it's mostly of the lobsters, steamers, and cod variety, and it lacks the spice and heat found everywhere in Florida. She digs in for a bite, looks over at him as she washes it down with a sip of water.

"Barry. He's the guy those Cubans wanted before, right?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael picks at the food, and while it is good it's not what's on his mind right now.

"That's the guy, guess you get the pleasure of meeting him now." He smiles, but there's a lingering frustration behind it. "He's an... interesting guy."

The question of how much not-strictly-legal behavior Emma will put up with is usually in the back of his mind. Michael's always worked above the law, outside of it, as a spy and the fact that he's working as a spy without official backing hasn't changed any of that... including the sort of people he tends to have to associate with.

"Barry's a money launderer, like most guys that handle a lot of other people's illegally obtained money he's sort of gotten used to being both treated well and despised. His clients don't have to like him, but they do have to treat like the man that could single handedly sink them in and all of their associates in prison for a very long time. Honestly, he's a nice enough guy but he gets on my nerves. All flash and spiky hair with a manicure."

[notinthebook]

"You have some pretty strange friends."

It's about the only comment she has to make about it, because any others get tossed out of consideration at the strange look on Michael's face, the way he's tensed up all of a sudden.

She nudges his ankle with one bare foot, frowning at him, a little.

"You're really pissed off about this. What's up?"

[luvs_yogurt]

"Just wait until you meet him." Oh God forbid she meet Sam... or his mother. Or Nate.

The gentle press of her foot against his ankle draws him back up and he shakes his head, taking a large bite of the perfectly done pasta and sauce.

"It's nothing, I just... you know, I told you we weren't working tonight."

He's trying. Whether she knows it or not, it's taking a good deal of effort for him not to be working, not to be dwelling on what's lurking around the corner. And for him that's kind of a big deal.

[notinthebook]

"Like you ever actually stop."

She twirls her fork in the pasta, comes up with a good-sized bite, shrugs her slouched shoulders. "Don't sweat it. There's time."

Time here, time at the bar, and, to be honest, it's not like she knows how to be this focused on another person.

Or ever knew.

"You never know. He could actually be helpful."

There's a sly sparkle in her eyes that suggests she is less than optimistic that this might be the case.

[luvs_yogurt]

His lips twitch, trying not to frown at the dig. He knows, and he knows that she knows. It's just who he is, but damn it... he's trying to do it her way.

"The last time I had a meeting with Barry he was followed by an assassin that was used as a distraction while the person that burned me blew up the front of a store full of civilians. I doubt it'll be helpful."

[notinthebook]

She pauses with a mouthful of water, hand stopping on its way to put the cup down, eyebrows digging together, and it takes her a second to regain her bearings and swallow.

"Seriously?"

There's a moment while she struggles with the information, decides it's too much to deal with on short notice, and ends up saying the first thing that pops into her head.

Because that always works so well. "How did this guy not get himself killed before he met you?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael lowers his eyes, swallowing hard as he remembers the emergency response crew that was already pulling people out when they left the restaurant - they had to have been called before the blast. Whoever did it wanted Michael to see the injured before he had to either leave or end up in handcuffs. If William hadn't been with him, there's no telling what he would have done - though he likes to think he wouldn't have ran.

"Fear. The person that planted the bomb was out to get my attention - Barry's probably one of the safest guys in the city if it weren't for people after me." He keeps his eyes focused on his plate, dragging the tines of his fork through a fine white sauce; "He controls where the money goes - all it would take to set up half the crime world of Miami is his little black book."

[notinthebook]

"Right."

She watches him, carefully, for a long moment, before turning her attention back to her pasta, like there wasn't anything to see.

It's a lie, and she knows he'll know it's a lie, because even he has got to recognize the way his face goes flat and blank when he's talking about the miserable situation that is his life after getting burned.

He's got a lot of hang-ups, Michael. Not that she can blame him, but it does make it a little difficult to empathize with his desire to get back in the game. When it involves people planting bombs to get your attention, how worth it can it be?

Whatever. It's none of her business, but Barry is, sort of, so she focuses on that for now.

"I've met guys like that before," she says. "I can't say I ever really liked them much. Must be the certain slimy personality drawn to a life of less-than-petty crime."

[luvs_yogurt]

He doesn't like to think about the way things are, only that increasingly dim path back to where he belongs. He doesn't belong here, and it all feels like living on borrowed time. Lately, the itch to be anywhere but here has been erratic - one day it's all he can think about, the next Miami doesn't look so bad.

Milliways doesn't look so bad. When did it become something other than a place to get away from life? When did it start feeling more like his reality to be in other people's worlds?

"He's not really a bad guy," he mutters casually, "he's just... Barry."

[notinthebook]

One eyebrow arches, the corner of her mouth following it into a crooked half-moon of a smile.

"Yeah."

She knows people like that, too. Besides, it's not like Michael's going for a gun, or anything, and she can deal with a smarmy money launderer. "Any idea when he'll be joining us?"

[luvs_yogurt]

"Soon," he sighs; "he was on the way when he called."

Two bites later, the in room phone rang from the front desk.

"We're on the Do Not Disturb list... think I should let him up?"

[notinthebook]

"If our other option is going down to meet him and he says he's 'got something'?"

She makes a face, mouth twisting as she pushes her plate away, looking after the unfinished pasta with regret.

"It's probably better to bring him up, don't you think?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Unfortunately, she has a point. "Go ahead and eat, this shouldn't take long."

He gives the front desk the go-ahead to let him up and hangs up - approaching Emma from behind. "And, as soon as he's gone..." he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and stroking both hands over her shoulders; "I have every plan to finish what we started... maybe in a bubble bath."

[notinthebook]

"Oh, yeah?"

She leans back, nudging her head into his stomach as she tips it back to look up, her smile tilting further.

"You, me, a nice warm bath, and that bottle of champagne. Sounds pretty nice."

[luvs_yogurt]

He lets out a soft, happy murmur of approval at the thought - bending down to kiss her upsidedown. For a long moment, it's enough to be close, it feels right - like there's nothing else he should be doing in that moment.

And then there's a hard rap at the door and he rolls his eyes, giving her one last kiss before making his way toward the door in nothing but his shorts. "Barry!" He offers an obviously forced smile, letting him in and then slamming the door behind him; "Nice of you to drop by."

Barry looks him over, his halfhearted smile drooping when he catches on that he's interrupted something. "You must be the hot blonde..." he looks toward Emma, eyeing her over before his lips quirk back into a smile; "Mike, I gotta say you definitely traded up there... I mean when I saw you with that young guy I was kind of starting to wonder if you weren't going a little... you know... but oooh boy..."

"Barry." Michael gritted his teeth, grabbing the other man by the arm. "What's so important that it couldn't wait until after we finished the job?"

[notinthebook]

It's actually kind of sweet, for a second, and then there's a knock at the door and she returns his eyeroll with one of her own before pulling her plate back towards herself, watching the door out of the corner of her eye.

She leans back in her chair, gives him a skeptical look. Barry's the kind of guy who wanders around in a cloud of cologne, and she can smell it from here, mixed with hair product that looks like it ought to be used to wax a freaking surfboard, not put on someone's head.

"Yeah," she says, turning back to her water. "Thanks?"

Fortunately, Michael's in even less of a mood than she is for small talk, so she just sips her water and watches the two of them, lips pressing together in resignation.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Right!" Barry grins wide, giving Emma another flirty raise of the eyebrows before turning back to Michael. "So, I was poking around a little bit in some accounts handled by a friend of mine and happened to find some very interesting transactions regarding our mutual acquaintance Benny Bahamas - or as the IRS knows him, Benjamin Marks."

"Barry, you know better than to be digging into accounts... I mean, Feds?"

"No, no... it's all right, I was secure. Turns out one of the off shore accounts I handle is attached to a guy that supplies some of the street dealers here in Miami - but he recently made a rather large buy of high grade coke. We're talking the shit rock stars like best, you know what I'm talking about?"

"So what's the connection?" Michael sighs, frowning even deeper. They already know he's trying to get into the drug trade and with setting up shop in a place like Miami Beach it had better be high grade.

"Easy; Benny pays my guy - my guy pays the Colombians, I call in a favor and before you can sing your favorite club mix it looks a whole lot like our friend Benny is in bed with the cartels." Barry reaches in the back pocket of his messenger bag and plucks out a thick file. "I'm sure you know what to do with that kind of information."

[notinthebook]

Man. This is the kind of bullshit her some of her worst bailjumpers were guilty of: fraud, embezzlement, money laundering. Not that the crime was always anything she especially cared about; yeah, she hated the dicks that tried to circumvent the law, but she went after them for reasons other than just because they were crooks who deserved to be back in jail.

She's got no jurisdiction here, though; no warrant, and no interest in dealing with Barry in any way other than tangentially. She might be on the solid side of the law these days, but this is, literally speaking, not her world.

Michael's tactics might not sit well with her, but they don't have to. He doesn't have to answer to her for anything.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael eyes the folder a long moment and then shakes his head; "I can't do anything with that, Barry. I've barely got the FBI off my back and I'm not about to give them something that's going to make them start asking questions like how I got a hold of that information. You need to turn it in."

"Yeah..." Barry grimaces shaking his head; "I'd like to stay not-dead if at all possible and after your little party with the Cubans I'm not about to go sticking my neck out again. So, I brought a backup plan."

When Barry walks to the table and sets his bag down with a heavy thump not five inches from Emma's plate, Michael has a sinking feeling he knows where this is going.

"You're trying to catch someone who thinks he's a badass czar? Make him one." Barry grins wide and flips open the top flap of his messenger back to reveal a cache of small sealed bags of fine white powder.

"Please tell me you've taken up baking."

[notinthebook]

"Whoa!"

She pushes back from the bag, turning incredulous eyes on Barry as she does. "Are you insane? What the hell are you thinking?"

Maybe it's powdered sugar. It could be.

It better be.

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael's eyes are still as he looks from the stash to Emma and then back up to Barry - he gets the plan without even asking, it's not a great plan... but theoretically it could take him down even harder when added to the original plan.

"Are you kidding? After an anonymous tip... compliments of someone who really wants to see this guy put away... when they pick him up for whatever the hell your plan is he's going to have a kilo of the stuff in his car. Believe me, that wasn't cheap - but it's worth it to make sure he doesn't get off light for what he did."

"Barry... that's really... really..."

"Oh come on, I know you can pop a lock and make sure the stuff is where it needs to be. It's not like it's going to add anything major to your plan." Barry lets out a nervous laugh and covers it back up.

Michael sighs and glances back at Emma with a hint of resignation - it's actually not a bad idea. He's worked with things a lot less solid, and going down for solicitation and whatever they can get on a tape might not stick... a kilo of coke packaged for resale is pretty damning evidence.

"Emma," Michael says softly, licking his lips; "he's got a point. It would bring this guy down harder if we can plant the drugs and get his prints on even one of the bags..."