[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]

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.