[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

[notinthebook]

"Well, lead on, " she says, tilting a crooked smile up at him, cheeks flushing faintly from what she tells herself is the sun but knows was that kiss, comfortable, sweet, familiar.

"It's not like I've got my Zagat guide hidden in this get-up."

[luvs_yogurt]

"You're resourceful enough without one," he murmurs, letting his hand sweep a little lower over the gauze wrap before returning to the relative safety of her lower back.

"Believe me, I'm sure any women that can climb a drainpipe and take down gun runners without firing a shot is more than capable of finding good crab in Miami."

[notinthebook]

"Hey, just because you shot first doesn't mean I wouldn't have."

She's teasing, and it might be a weird thing to tease about, but, come on, she and Michael aren't exactly your usual couple out on a usual lunch date. They've got plans for a party tonight, but it's not the usual shindig.

And she finds she likes him a hell of a lot, more and more, for it. Her hand flattens against his back, the muscles there shifting and sliding beneath her palm in a way that makes her think all too clearly of the hotel room last night.

"I'm better at finding people than food, anyway. So I guess it's a good thing I've got you today, huh?"

[luvs_yogurt]

He wouldn't have made her take a shot if he could help it - ever. That's his job, to do the dirty work. But it's neither the time or the place for that argument.

"I'm starting to think it's a good thing every time you've got me."

Feeling the gentle stroke of her fingers, he almost hates to guide her into the small restaurant where they're quickly shown to a table. It's early enough the lunch rush has only started to trickle in and they're able to sit by the window where they can watch the passersby.

"How are you feeling about tonight?" It's an honest question, and he knows they probably shouldn't talk shop while trying to spend time together - but it's honestly all he knows to talk about on his own.

[notinthebook]

The glance she shoots him is riding the edge of wary and amused, the kneejerk reaction of caution, walls, this is why she doesn't do this, any of this, getting overridden, in a vicious swirl, by enjoyment.

"I'm starting to think you're right."

Which is the closest she can come, right this second, right now, to saying...what? How much she likes him? That this crazy date with him has improved her day exponentially, and that's why she came to find him in his room?

The chair she takes is by a window, and the breeze comes sliding in, tugging at her curls, making her tuck them behind her ear as she shrugs.

"I think it's solid. It'll be nice to have backup, for once."

Not that she thinks he's really asking that, but...evasion is a difficult tendency to unlearn.

[luvs_yogurt]

"I'll be listening the whole time," he explains, trying to read her eyes more than her words; "if you don't feel safe at any time I want you to pull the plug."

Not that he thinks she would, if anything he's fairly sure that making the offer is enough to ensure she won't call it off no matter how bad it gets.

"I trust you, but this guy... I mean, what kind of sick bastard beats up a little old lady?"

[notinthebook]

Her lips thin into a hard line.

"The kind I would enjoy taking down, if he gives me a chance."

Michael looks -- concerned, that's what it is, concerned for her, for her safety, and she gives him a tight smile, leans crossed arms onto the table top.

"Don't worry about me, Michael, I'll be fine. I have handled my fair share of scumbags before."

[luvs_yogurt]

His eyes drop down to her hands, a little bit embarrassed that she read him that easily, but honestly honored that she'd call him out on it.

"I know you have," he looks back up at her with a slight nod. "I just don't want you getting into trouble on my watch."

[notinthebook]

It's honestly kind of endearing; Michael, he's not the kind of guy anyone would expect to take an interest in someone else's well-being, especially if it means getting in the way of a job. Not that he's a bad guy, or lacking in empathy -- that's what separates him from the assholes he takes down, after all -- but he's efficient, and he can seem unfeeling.

Nobody, looking at him right now, would make that mistake.

"Hey," she says, half casual, but her eyes fixed on his face, "I only get into the good kind of trouble these days. Well, when I can. You know what it's like, sometimes things just happen."

It's not especially reassuring, considering how flat that joke could fall, so she shrugs a little. Someone else might reach for his hand right now, but she can't quite get herself to make that motion.

"It'll be easy."

[luvs_yogurt]

He starts to reach toward her and then pauses only a moment and diverts toward his drink, picking it up for a long sip.

Swallowing back the intrusion of his feelings, he clears his throat and finds a reply somewhere in the onslaught of thoughts.

"No, no you're right... it'll be fine."

Of course, between the two of them he's sure there's nothing they can't do.

[notinthebook]

"Hell yeah it will. I didn't drag my ass all the way across the multiverse and back to Miami just for it all to go pear-shaped on me."

She's always been good at bluster, at pretending more confidence than she has, but this isn't all that hard, really.

No point in psyching herself out before a job, not when she's starting to get antsy and edgy in the best sort of way, and she nods towards the menu. "So, what's good?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Food. Right, they had come there for food - and to break the single track of being alone in a nice hotel room together.

"Uh, I'm getting the bucket of Cajun shrimp - but it's all pretty good from what Sam's told me. I don't get out this way much but he's a regular."

Truth told, he felt a little more comfortable - as much as he ever was comfortable - in the city and away from the smell of money and coconut oil.

[notinthebook]

A track she doesn't mind keeping up, except when she thinks about it and all the reasons why she shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be out with him, should not have stayed the night with him come rolling back like a spiked ball, gripping into her head and snagging all her thoughts like so much tissue paper.

Food is easier. Pretending this is a job with a friend is easier. Ignoring the way her heart thuds, hard and painful, when he watches her out of bright blue eyes and tells her to be careful -- that's a little more difficult.

"Sounds good. I'll have what you're having." She sits back, crosses one leg over the other, and does her best impression of a piece of arm candy, twirling a wayward curl in a finger.

It's a little thrown off by the set of her shoulders and the way she winks at him, because, come on. It's all a joke. He's not that guy. She's not that girl.

Isn't that why this works?

"Speaking of Sam, I actually met him. Right before I came up to find you, yesterday. Today?" She makes a face. "Milliways has a way of screwing up tenses."

[luvs_yogurt]

If asked, he'd say she was right... they worked because they could pull off a couples gambit... but he wouldn't believe it. Not entirely. Not when she gets under his skin as much as she does.

"Oh?" He raises a curious eyebrow, pulling his hand back to take another idle sip of his water. "I'm sure he only had good things to say about me."

[notinthebook]

"Sure," she agrees, without going into detail or offering any further explanation, sipping at her water with a blank expression until his cracks and he grins, making her smile flash, too.

And, hey. There are worse ways to spend a morning before a con, right? She can think of at least ten, off the top of her head, and not one of them can be found here and now.