[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]

Later that night, when the noise of the pre-spring break party season outside the open window dies down, Michael untangles himself from the sleeping woman's arms and finds his binoculars and a bottle of water.

He might be torn between the warm nest of Emma's arms and the softest sheets he'd laid on in a really long time, but his mind's back where it always seems to want to be. Work. Something safe, something he can almost predict and roll with so much easier than the way he feels when he looks back at her as she rolls to grab for the warm pillow where he used to be.

Sitting on the window sill, he looks down at the house they're targeting and starts mapping out the security in his head.

[notinthebook]

It's been a long time since she fell asleep with someone else in the same bed, but that doesn't mean she doesn't recognize the feeling when she rolls over and they aren't there anymore.

Her first thought is, of course, you idiot.

Her second is that the pillow, the mattress, the sheets, are all still warm, smell like him, are just rumpled and soft, and she leverages herself up on an elbow loose with sleep, blinks over at him before rubbing the heel of her hand into her eye.

"Anything going on over there?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Anyone else would look crazy sitting naked in the window of a post hotel - but Michael knows he looks distant, staring down the binoculars as he follows a solitary security guard patrolling the property. Frowning, he hadn't meant to wake Emma - she should be sleeping, he didn't look at her as he spoke.

"Just watching the security detail on the beach house." He knows he doesn't have to, their plan won't involve security - they'll barely be on the property when the cops show up, but his brain always says it's the sort of thing he has to know.

[notinthebook]

"Yeah?"

She sits up a little, pulling the sheets up and settling back against the pillow, blinking sleepy and slow before yawning, jaw-cracking and wide.

"Anything down there we should be worried about?"

Unlikely; he would have told her already if that was likely to be true, but it's worth asking, considering he's left bed to go stare at a completely boring house for who knows how long.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Not really," he shook his head and turned his dark rimmed eyes back to her. "I've already got the parking spot picked out for the car - lots of cover and as long as our mark doesn't park too far away I'll only have to take out one security camera to plant the drugs."

His mind had wandered pretty far off the security anyway, as expected he couldn't bring himself to sleep in Miami. The hair on the back of his neck prickled up, waiting for something bad to happen. Waiting for Cowan to tell him he's there.

[notinthebook]

"Uh huh."

That's about right, and it's nothing more than she expected, but that means that her original assessment was correct.

Which is not something she's sure she exactly knows how to broach. Or if she should.

"So that's not why you're hanging around at the window without clothes."



Okay. So she's never been great at avoiding sensitive topics. But it's not like she isn't involved: waking up in a bed that smells like him is evidence enough of that. "What's up?"

[luvs_yogurt]

He shifts slightly and looks down at his bare legs before offering her a shrug.

"Nothing better to do. May as well make use of my time."

[notinthebook]

"You don't think sleep is something better to do?"

She's smiling, but it's crooked, and a little wry.

"And there's no reason for you to be watching the house, so your reasoning is oh for two."

Shifting, she settles a little more comfortably against the pillows, rakes her hair out of her face, and watches him. "What's on your mind?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Sleep. Funny. "I don't sleep much," he mutters, setting down the binoculars and leaving the window to fetch another bottled water from the minibar.

"It's not important right now, we've got to think about the job."

[notinthebook]

"Okay."

Which is bullshit.

Her mouth presses together, head leaned back against the pillows, hair coiling in tangles across the sheet.

"I mean, it's your business if you want to obsess by the window in the middle of the night, but we thought about the job yesterday and we'll think about it tomorrow and there's not really a whole lot that thinking about it right now is gonna change."

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael sighs and takes a long drink of his water as he watches her. It's not fair, he should be fine with leaving it at that - letting her commentary linger. It's what he would have done six months ago. It's what he's always done.

But this time, he sets the bottle down and sits at the foot of the bed with his back to the window - folding his arms across his knees as he considers exactly what he can tell her to make her understand that it's not about changing things.

"I have to be ready," he says slowly, looking down at the plush carpet. After a moment's pause, he pulls the heavy back of money and supplies from Milliways from the floor at the foot of the bed and flips it open.

"Soon after being burned, I was told that it was to 'put me on ice'. This guy, Cowan, apparently wants to make a job offer but I get the impression it's less of an offer and more of a threat. Whoever he is, he's got a lot at stake in this; he's had people killed, blown up buildings and sent people to kill me - trying to get me to agree to a meeting with him."

[notinthebook]

"That seems kind of counter-intuitive."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that threats like that might get you a meeting, but not the one you want.

Then again, even Michael can be kind of nuts from time to time, so who knows how sturdy the hinges holding this guy to reality really are?

"You think he knows you're here and he'll hit the party?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Michael pulls out the thick file detailing operations... crimes... that they said he was involved in. Somewhat hesitant, he sets it down on the bed in front of her without a word about it. She deserves to know just how deep he already is.

"It's the perfect tactic if you want to remind someone who's in charge. They even went after my mother. These people, whoever they are, don't mess around."

He's quiet for a long moment, waiting for her to judge him, to judge the situation he's in - and then he puts his mind back to the immediate future.

"I don't think so. But if I don't meet with them soon he's going to do something drastic. And if I do meet with him, there's a very real chance I won't walk away."

[notinthebook]

She glances at the file, lashes flicking smoothly down, then up again without reaching for it, or making any other movement aside from a slight narrowing of her eyes, or clasping one hand loosely in the other around her knees.

"I'm guessing I don't want to know what would be more drastic than setting off bombs and going after your mom." It's quiet, studying him in the dim light from the streetlights below.

"But it doesn't sound like you have much of a choice. Have you decided what you're gonna do?"

[luvs_yogurt]

She already knows, of course, that it could only get worse. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he can't even look at her when he says; "I have to meet him. Soon."

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders forward as he lets out a soft sigh; "After this job, I promised a friend of mine I'd help him move some cattle - it might give me some time to clear my head. But after that, I've got to put an end to this before anyone else gets hurt."

[notinthebook]

She should really focus on that last part, considering it's the one that's been eating away at him, dragging him out of bed in the middle of the night and coloring everything he does, here, but her still-dopey brain snags like a fish on a hook at the bit in the middle, crumpling her face into confusion.

"I'm sorry. Did you say you were moving cattle? You're a cowboy now, too? I'm confused."

Michael is the epitome of a city boy, and yeah, she guesses he was probably living pretty rough in the Middle East, but...the suits, and the shades, and the military haircut, and...well, all of him.

It's a bizarre mental image, to say the least.

[luvs_yogurt]

At least she has a way of momentarily pulling his mind away from the situation - it's better than nothing.

The barest hint of a smile crosses his lips and he nods; "Yeah, I've been training with a horse and learning how to rope over the last week or so." From anyone else it'd be sarcastic, but it's the truth - and he's pretty sure she believes it. "The Evans boys know what they're doing, I'm going to be there for more of an extra set of hands and in case there's trouble."

[notinthebook]

"Well," she says, a little at a loss. "That's very Clint Eastwood of you."

Man, Milliways. You get the weirdest crossovers there. Personally, she thinks it seems like a pretty bad idea to go on a goddamn cattle drive when you've only just learned how to ride, but what the hell does she know about cattle or driving them or roping or riding or any of that stuff? Not a damn thing.

"I hope there's no...stampede? I guess? What kind of trouble can come from a cattle drive? My brain keeps getting stuck on Oregon Trail, so, like, don't...get dysentery and then try to cross a river, or whatever."

[luvs_yogurt]

He shakes his head and lets himself laugh under his breath, not sure what exactly the Oregon Trail has to do with it since they'll be in Arizona, but he's not about to ask either. Hey, he was out of school by the time they let kids use computers.

"I'll be fine, Emma. Believe me - that sort of thing are the least of my worries right now."

Considering he's already made the assumption there's only a 50/50 chance he'll be alive the next time he's in Miami and they're sitting on enough cocaine to land both of them in prison, his priorities are a little different. "I'm pretty sure Arizona's about the safest place for me."

[notinthebook]

"Really? In the list of places you could go where you won't get attacked or blown up or shot or implicated in some horrifying crime, Arizona is the best one you can come up with? I mean, I guess that's true, but it seems a little excessive."

Not like she's got anything against Arizona. She's passed through it once or twice. It just seems like a strange place for his head to go. Arizona? Cattle drives?

Okay, the guy's under a lot of pressure. It's not like she wouldn't expect him to crack in a couple of spots.

"Well, I hope you have fun. Watch out for your boots and sleeping bags, I hear scorpions get into everything out there."

[luvs_yogurt]

He doesn't have the heart to tell her there are very powerful people on more than one continent that tell stories about him, or that he deserves at least one of them.

"It'll be nice to not have to worry, how much trouble can I really get into in the old west? Maybe a stage coach robbery or uppity steer? I think I'll be all right." He chuckles under his breath, but the humor's still leaked away; "As many years as I've spent in the Middle East and Africa, I've seen bugs that scare me a hell of a lot more than a scorpion."

[notinthebook]

"You?"

She gives him her most dubious look, a little dozy still, and actually, okay, kind of maybe sort of a little fond.

The guy is crazy, but who's she to talk about anyone's sanity and make any kind of call? Besides, doesn't that make her even crazier, coming out here with him.

"Hey." She leans forward, a little smile tugging at her mouth. "Bring back a cowboy hat. I would pay money to see that shit."

[luvs_yogurt]

Again, she manages draw that unexpected smile out of him and he nods; "For you? I'll wear it to bed." He mirrors her gentle lean and presses a warm kiss against her lips.

Maybe it'll be okay, at least in way, he's got more to survive for than ever.

"Emma..." he breathes against her lips; "I'm sorry I'm so... you know. The way I am."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah," she says, after a second, where her hand ends up sliding to the side of his neck, and she licks her bottom lip, that quirk of a smile tugging even further at the corner of her mouth, "you're a handful. It's a good thing I'm such a responsible adult. Someone should stay out of trouble."

She leans in again, a breath from his lips, when her eyes open, thoughtfully, before a laugh comes in a gust of breath.

"No, wait, that's not right."

What is, though, is another kiss, and a tug at the back of his neck.

[luvs_yogurt]

"Well, between the two of us..." he kisses her again, pushing further until he's crouched over her - pressing warm, sleepy kisses one after another to her soft lips.

"You're definitely the least likely to be in trouble."

Which isn't saying much - he's had more time to learn the tricks and make a life out of being in trouble... she's just more of an amateur trouble maker.