[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.

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[notinthebook]

She's been feeling unhappy and annoyed all day: annoyed with Graham, annoyed with Regina, annoyed with herself for letting any of it get to her at all.

(Why should she care? He can sleep with who he likes. She just wishes Henry weren't in the house; it seems so wrong.)

It's something she hasn't been able to shake, made worse by the dragging day at the office and the heartache in Mary Margaret's voice that's been there all night, too, and it's weighing on her, settling heavy on her slouched shoulders as she takes the chair.

All she wants is to just let it go.

That's what's really on offer, here, and it's partly the reason she came to see him after hanging out downstairs for a little while -- that, and because he always seems happy to see her, wants her around, which is like balm after the sickening discovery of last night.

There's something relieved about the unhappy way she smiles. "You know, I think you might be right."

It's not running away if she's not really leaving anything behind, right? And time stops, so really, all she's doing is taking a breather, a little reprieve.

Even better, he's offering her something else to focus on, and she looks up at him, eyebrows arching. "Okay, hit me. What's the deal this time?"

[luvs_yogurt]

Shifting forward, he leans in close and closes one hand tentatively over hers, he can feel the tension - something's going on that he's not part of but he still wants to do what he can to make things easier on her.

With a soft smile he says; "Come to Miami and we'll get you fitted for something sexy and then spend the night. The next day we run a quick seduction bait and switch to bring down a bookie that beat up a little old lady and celebrate with buckets of spicy crab down by the beach."

It's the sort of offer that would probably sound crazy for any other source, but he knows from him it's expected.

[notinthebook]

Her eyes narrow and her brows draw together thoughtfully; it's a look that's half really? and half wary interest.

Is she crazy, or does that sound sort of fun?

Or both?

Either way, it seems like the perfect way to blow off steam, though she's catching a little awkwardly on the part about spending the night.

"Wait," she says, and then frowns deeper, brought up short by a totally different question. "Wait," she says again, with a completely different inflection that's got nothing to do with the backflips her stomach is making at the idea of spending the night.

"Exactly who's the bait and who's the switch in this scenario?"

[luvs_yogurt]

An almost innocent curl of his lips makes it pretty clear exactly who's who.

"He has a small crew, four guys with him at all times. I need a beautiful woman who knows how to work a situation and keep herself safe to distract him enough to get rid of the bodyguards and lure him to the hotel room where I will be waiting to have a little talk with him about his collection methods until the cops show up."

[notinthebook]

"Seriously?"

Of course he's serious. Why wouldn't he be? He runs shit like this all the time, it's what he does. The corner of her mouth tucks up into a smile, and though she shakes her head, it's in amusement, not disagreement.

"Well, you know I'm up for bringing down a bad guy or two." She turns an incisive look on him, considering.

"Beat up an old lady, huh?"

Hell. She'd do it just for that. What kind of scumbag goes after a sweet old woman?

[luvs_yogurt]

He nods and gently squeezes her hand, already letting himself echo her smile - it's a green light.

"She shouldn't have been dealing with a loan shark to cover her gambling debts - but nobody deserves that kind of treatment. As far as I'm concerned a few good knocks and a few years in the pen after they get a hold of his books will do him well."

[notinthebook]

His hand feels good over hers, so she lets hers stay right there, and if it's a mistake, she doesn't care. She could use a little bit of feeling good about herself after the day she's had, and it looks like he could, too.

Nothing wrong with that.

Her eyebrows flicker, and she shrugs. "People get stupid when they get desperate. So, uh...when were you planning on heading out?"

She doesn't particularly want to go back to the apartment -- not yet -- but it might not be so bad.

It's not like she's exactly dressed for Miami. Again.

[luvs_yogurt]

He shrugs easily; "Whenever you want to."

Pulling away, he opens the bottle and pours her out a single whiskey. "Or you can stay here for a while if you prefer."

He's not exactly in a hurry - the cattle drive is coming up but he knows William wants to wait until he's convinced that Michael's well enough to make the trip and Miami sure as hell isn't going anywhere.

[notinthebook]

"Like...here, here?"

They've circled right back around to that pesky question of spending the night, and she's not even sure she's right to be wondering about it. It's not like she's got any reason to think he means anything other than letting her crash on his couch.

If it's a date, it's pretty much the most unorthodox one she's ever heard of.

Fortunately, he hands her a drink, and she takes it, tips down a quick sip, because that's something to do that isn't becoming increasingly awkward.

It's just that she's not sure she can trust herself around him.

"Hey," she says, shrugging and dropping it for the moment. There's no answer she can find, so she may as well move on, right? "You're the one in recovery. We'll work on your time schedule."

[luvs_yogurt]

He shrugs somewhat innocently; "Well, I mean... it doesn't have to be here - I mean, generally here... Milliways. Not necessarily my room." Which was sort of exactly what he meant, but her reaction is enough for him to get the hint - too strong, Michael. Back it up.

"I'm doing pretty well - I managed yogurt today and as long as I can keep down water and yogurt I'm a happy man."

[notinthebook]

"Not that that's, you know, bad," she says, quickly.

Too quickly, maybe.

(She'd have to admit, it's tempting. It's been tempting ever since the first time they sat here and he pulled her into a kiss and picked her right off her chair, too impatient to walk to the bed.)

Still, it's a relief to have something else to consider, and she smiles, a warm curve of her lips that dimples her cheeks and makes her eyes soften.

"Good. Gotta be able to have the yogurt. It's kinda your thing."

[luvs_yogurt]

Her smile confuses him yet again, and he's pretty sure he'll never understand how she works - let alone how any woman works. She wants... something? Maybe to happen. Maybe.

"Hey, it is the perfect food." He shrugs somewhat innocently, taking a long sip of his spiked tea. "Anyway, I'm up for anything now."

[notinthebook]

The only thing she's sure of right now is that she's just as conflicted as ever. What does he even want from her? He calls her a friend and an ally, but there's this tension coiling around them every time they see each other, and she can't tell if it's trying to pull her towards him, or trying to hang her out to dry.

Caution is her default setting. It's the only thing she can trust.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

She takes a sip of her whiskey and pushes it aside, the I dare you quirk back to her lips. "But if I'm going to be making an impression, I'd better stop at the Bar and get some supplies, first."

[luvs_yogurt]

He laughs under his breath, "I, uh... didn't expect it'd be so easy to convince you after last time." Still, he nods and shifts out of his chair to find a pair of discarded jeans he hasn't worn since he's been on bed rest.

"We'll have to wait overnight after you get fitted - I'll have wardrobe on a rush order, but there's only so much they can do on short notice." His smile fades slightly, knowing she'll likely ask why she needs fitted for a dress when she's easily able to wear one off the rack.

"I'm pretty sure the loft has been compromised and after what happened the other day, I'd feel a lot safer if we stayed at a hotel."

[notinthebook]

"Yeah, well."

Rolling the tumbler in her palm pushes up the leather strap around her wrist, showing a corner of the tattoo he'd traced so gently with his fingertip the last time she went with him to Miami, when all of this sucked them right into a black hole of stupid thinking. "I could use a break."

It's not like she won't be back at work tomorrow, but having a day -- or two, or whatever -- to cool off might not be such a bad idea.

And she'll say this for Michael: at least he's been straight with her.

Glossy red fingernails tap against the thick glass as she frowns at him. "If you need a slinky dress, I've got one that'll fit the bill...but, wait, wait. Hold on a second."

It's not the dress she's wondering about, though she's still curious about it -- it's that last comment, the one he sneaks in as he buttons the jeans, like he's just making conversation.

"What happened? What do you mean, the loft's compromised?"

[luvs_yogurt]

That. Right.

Michael sighs and strips off his undershirt with his back turned to her, the scratch left over from what had been a jagged tear in his skin still fresh but obviously not a problem. "The guy I'm after... the one who burned me... he's in Miami."

He tugs a clean polo over his head, trying to form exactly the easiest way to put the situation without outright admitting just going to Miami could set off another incident like the explosion.

"He's trying to send me a message that he's powerful and not afraid to hurt civilians to get my attention." His eyes lower and he sits on the edge of the bed, considering his boots. "He sent an assassin after me where I was meeting Barry, followed us to the location, and planted a bomb down the road where we could see the aftermath after taking care of the goon."

[notinthebook]

There's a long, unhappy-looking scratch on his back when he pulls his shirt over his head, and she notes it, but at least it doesn't look so bad. A little souvenir from one of the jobs he's been pulling here, she guesses, and it could be worse. At least it's not a bullet.

"Oh my God."

Her expression contracts into concern and disbelief, watching as he sits, his usually impeccable posture starting to crumple at the edges so that his shoulders roll forward just slightly. He never slouches like her, but he looks exhausted, considering he's been resting and recovering for the last few days.

Walking over, she sits next to him, the mattress dipping under her added weight, her fingers hanging loose between her knees as she looks over.

"This guy sounds like a nutjob. A bomb? What the hell?"

[luvs_yogurt]

"Yeah, well I didn't exactly expect the kind of person that'd accuse me of the things they say I did to exactly be all there."

He sighs and looks over at her with a reserved, almost haunted flatness to his face - trying not to show what he knows he's already giving away. Innocent people were hurt... probably died... because someone wants to get his attention. Mission accomplished.

"It's a power tactic, he wants me to know who's in charge."

Lucky for him, he's not the type to bend to threats - no matter how real they are.

[notinthebook]

She knows what people think of her. It's a persona she cultivates: stay aloof, stay detached, because otherwise, you can be hurt by too many things. It sucks, sometimes, but it's been helpful more often than it's been hurtful.

But she's got a heart, and she's got sympathy to give, and when someone close to her is hurting, she hurts, too.

There's something so miserable shading the bright blue of his eyes.

The hand she puts on his shoulder is gentle in a way most people wouldn't expect her capable of, but she doesn't care, squeezes lightly. "It's not your fault this guy's a sociopath. And you'll find him."

[luvs_yogurt]

Part of him doesn't want to admit that he's not ready yet, that he's been staying away because of things like this. But, there isn't really any other way.

"This is probably the last time I'm going to be able to go back before I have to take care of business." He looks down, licking his lips; "I'm close... but he's closer. He knows my movements, the places I go and the people I know. It's not good, Emma."

The way his voice drops to a near whisper, he knows that she understands what he means - there's a chance that when he goes back alone it's not going to be good.

"I might not come back next time."

[notinthebook]

Her hand tightens on his shoulder, reflexive before she forces it to relax.

This is all so screwed up. How the hell are people supposed to do any good against the sheer stupid cruelty of the world? "Don't say that."

Her own voice is low and intent. All her quips are gone for the moment, stripped away, leaving behind earnest hazel eyes and confidence she drags, unwilling, up from whatever secret well she's got deep inside, the one that got her through her childhood and through the years after finally escaping the system; the one that gave her the strength to tell Henry she was staying.

"You're awesome at this stuff. And...if you need help...there are people here who care about you. And a lot of them are pretty handy in a pinch."

[luvs_yogurt]

The shadow over his eyes flickers and is gone, replaced with an almost angry glare; "Don't even suggest that, Emma. You don't know these people - this is my battle, I'm not dragging anyone else into it."

He can't. If he did the thought that he might not make it back would easily turn into a certainty that nobody would.

"Anyway," he shakes his head; "he's biding his time - we should easily have two days to pull off this job without getting noticed. I even told Barry it'd be like a week just in case he's bugged."

He won't mention the part where he'll spend most of the time lying low and out of sight. Not yet.

[notinthebook]

Her lips thin, and it's like a faint veil falls over her eyes, turning them cool again as she lifts her hand away and sits back.

"Have it your way."

She's already been dragged in, though. She has, and so has anyone else who's befriended him, because they all care whether or not he comes back, despite the fact that he can be a complete idiot from time to time.

Shrugging, her expression turns disinterested, like it's just another job she knows he'll pull off and tell her about just so he can see the faces she'll make in response. "Hotel it is. No offense, but it'll probably be a lot more comfortable, too. Do you even have a bathroom in that loft?"

[luvs_yogurt]

The coldness makes the knot in his stomach clench again and while it's good to have something other than gastric distress to blame for it, knowing it's because he's pissed her off makes it worse. He won't take it back, though. Nobody steps through that door with him when it's time. Nobody.

"I do... the shower's a little... uh, not the best - but as long as the vice grips hold out it's in working order."

He smiles, superficial but real, and leans in close; "I've got just the place in mind... ocean view, pristine beach, quiet and very discrete about it's clientele." Just in case she wants to stay a while after the job's over, he wouldn't complain at the chance to catch a break for a little bit.

[notinthebook]

When she first met him, she would have shied away from the way he leans in, close enough she can just about feel the puff of his breath against her cheek, but now she stays where she is, leaning back with her palms flat on the rumpled sheets, though one eyebrow lifts, like she's calling his bluff.

"If I knew there was going to be possible beachtime, I'd have packed a bathing suit."

It's not really on the docket right now in Maine. Actually, she thinks anybody who voluntarily goes to the beaches there is a little crazy: that water is freakishly cold.

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out."