B.P.R.D. headquarters

[walking_napalm]

Liz doesn't smoke very often. She used to go through a whole lot of cigarettes (fireproof and with lungs that seem to be pretty inured to smoke -- why not?), but she fell out of the habit while at Bellamie, and never went back to her old dizzying heights of smoke and chemical inhalation afterward.

Once in a while, though, she'll find an old pack or feel the itch. Tonight, it was the latter, and the roof's as good a place as any to do some thinking. Her back resting against concrete and her knees drawn up, she has a lit cigarette balanced loosely between her pointer and middle fingers, her forearm resting on her knees. It's a nice night; the stars aren't all that visible (they never are, in Trenton), but Liz has a sweater and half a pack of cigarettes. She's comfortable.

Comments

[walking_napalm]

Liz shakes the fire out of her fingers and shoots him a low thumbs up with the hand that isn't holding her cigarette.

"I'm good," she says, far less sardonic than the gesture.

Red will find himself the recipient of a not-unsympathetic sidelong look. She lets her right knee brush his left. "You're bored, huh?"

[bprd_agent_red]

He blows out a cloud of smoke with a huff and nods.

"Like crazy."

[walking_napalm]

"I know." She shifts her weight to the right, enough to companionably settle her shoulder against his in a comfortable lean. "But I'm sure something will start raising the dead with its howls or slobbering psychic slime all over the place again pretty soon."

And, the unspoken implication is, it'll need a clobbering.

[bprd_agent_red]

He stays as he is, letting her get comfortable against him and smiling to her words.

As crazy as it would sound to an outsider, Liz knows just what to say to him.

"Yeah. With the warmer weather people will probably start camping again."

Which means encounters with Big Foot, lake monsters and other boogeymen of the wilds.

And with that comes clobbering.

[walking_napalm]

"They've probably already started," Liz points out, practical and peaceable.

She takes a drag on her cigarette; watches smoke drift away into the darkness. She glances at Red.

"And if that doesn't work out, I'm pretty sure Bar's prepared to guilt us into bartending for life." She rolls her eyes easily. "So. You know. Instant career and boredom cure, all rolled into one convenient package."

[bprd_agent_red]

Red exhales his own cloud of smoke and watches as it mixes with hers.

"Sorry I missed ya doin' that. Would've been interestin' to see."

And, fun.

[walking_napalm]

"It wasn't as bad as I expected," Liz admits begrudgingly. "The only customer who even came close to doing the whole 'cry on the bartender's shoulder' thing wasn't even really complaining. He was just talking about what it's like being a--" she gestures with the cigarette and her lip curls with clear distaste for the word, but she says it ayway, "mutant in his world, so--" She shrugs against Red's shoulder, as if to say, I didn't mind.

[bprd_agent_red]

He looks down at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"That mean you'd do it again?"

[walking_napalm]

"As long as Laura promises not to come crashing through the door with half her face gone, again--" (This is said very, very, very dryly.)



"Yeah," she decides, finally. Her eyes flick up to him. "I think I would."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Kid's worse than I am," Red notes with a small headshake.

The threatening smile breaks wide at her answer.

"That's great. I'll be sure and be there next time."

[walking_napalm]

Liz half-smiles, at her knees then -- more wryly -- at Red. "It isn't that entertaining," she says.

[bprd_agent_red]

"Sure it is," He insists.

"It beats 'So You Think You Can Dance', anyways."

[walking_napalm]

"...Thanks," says Liz, not quite holding back an initial, startled round of laughter.

"Always good to know I'm more interesting than somebody really screwing up a polka."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Actually, the polka dancers are pretty entertaining."

Red cracks up long and hard for those guys.

[walking_napalm]

"So I'm less interesting than somebody doing a polka." Liz thumps his side lightly.

[bprd_agent_red]

"You could always do a polka," He suggests, smiling around what's left of the cigar.

[walking_napalm]

She laughs, tapping cigarette ash over her opposite side, and hunkers down more comfortably against him. "Nobody wants to see that, H.B."

[bprd_agent_red]

"I do."

So he can laugh, of course.

"Or, instead of that how about next time you bartend, I join you?"

Because that would be fun, too. For probably less embarrasing reasons.

[walking_napalm]

Liz pretends to consider it.

(She wonders, for a half a second, if they'd be having a different conversation right now if Red had been in on this bartending; specfically, when she met Ryu.

Her smile slips momentarily, then makes a comeback.)

"What's it in for me?" she asks, teasingly light.

[bprd_agent_red]

His brow arches slightly when he sees her smile waver, then he leans back and puffs on his cigar, seemingly giving it a lot of thought.

"A box of Baby Ruths, four cans of Red Bull and someone who'll open any stubborn jars or bottles you find behind the counter."

[walking_napalm]

"Those are some bargaining chips," Liz says, half rolling her eyes and half laughing.

She glances up at him; one side of her mouth curves. "I'd settle for the jar thing. And maybe a kiss or two."

Maybe.

[bprd_agent_red]

"Deal."

With that said he leans forward and presses his lips to hers.

[walking_napalm]

She closes her eyes and leans up into the kiss, her free hand on his upper arm. Her mouth is tilted in an almost-but-not-quite smile, which settles down after a second or two.



Liz draws back. "Oh!" (God knows why she remembered right now, but she remembered right now. Sorry, Red.) "I totally forgot--" She folds her legs Indian-style. "I saw Coyote again while I was in Milliways. I'm probably going to help her out with a problem in Vegas; I don't know when yet."

These things are good to mention, especially considering all the shit she's given him for going off on potentially dangerous Milliways adventures without mentioning them to her.

[bprd_agent_red]

His arm goes around her waist and he's just getting ready to draw her closer when she breaks off.

"Vegas?" He tilts his head at her. "What's goin' on there?"

And can he come?

[walking_napalm]

"I'm not completely sure," she admits. "There's some kind of a supernatural bad guy threatening people; Coyote's getting help from Milliways. She's supposed to get back to me on the details."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Huh. Must be pretty gutsy, showing up in a big town like that."

[walking_napalm]

Liz frowns.

"That's a good point," she says slowly. "It must be."

She shakes it off; taps ash from her cigarette and rests her wrist on the arm that's slung around her waist.

"Coyote seemed to think it was a pretty big threat, whatever it is. So--" she shrugs one shoulder, "I said if she really needed the help, I'd go."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Gonna need a hand?"

Since she hasn't asked, he'll offer.

[walking_napalm]

"I asked," Liz says, her eyes flicking up to him. A little (just a little) apologetic: "Coyote said she was looking for a team that could fit into a crowd."

She pats his arm, kidding now. "I'll shoot something for you."

[bprd_agent_red]

"You don't think I'd fit in in Vegas?" He's kidding of course, but there's a small measure of disappointment in his smile.

"Just lemme know when you're going, if you want I'll buy you tickets to a show with Myers credit card."

[walking_napalm]

Liz snorts, nudging his shoulder lightly. "So generous," she says. "Thanks anyway, but I'm not sticking around Vegas any longer than I have to. Too much glitz. Way too much sand."

She tilts her chin up. She lowers her voice; leans in. "I don't think you'll be missing much."

(Famous last words.)

[bprd_agent_red]

"Well you gotta at least play some games," He insists. "Can't go to Vegas without gambling just a little."

When she leans in he looks down at her and forgets about Vegas.

"I might miss you."

Someone's been watching old sappy movies again.

[walking_napalm]

"Hey." This is Liz's bemused, sassy face, as she stubs out her cigarette on the rooftop; she doesn't look away from him. "You want me to be in the World Poker Championships, or come back sooner?"

Liz's preference is (and she is telegraphing it quite clearly) 'come back sooner.'

[bprd_agent_red]

He knows what answer she wants but he pretends to debate a long moment before giving it. With a grin.

"Sooner. Definitely sooner."

Beat.

"After all, you got a lousy poker face."

[walking_napalm]

Liz's poker face is pretty bad.

"Yours isn't much better," she points out, one side of her mouth tipped up. She brushes his jaw with a thumb.

She doesn't exactly mind that neither of them is a terribly good liar.

[bprd_agent_red]

"Maybe we should get some cards and practice, then."

His chin tilts to her light touch.

"When you get back."

[walking_napalm]

"Maybe," Liz says, and it's the kind of 'maybe' that means 'you're so on.'

She leans up a couple of inches and kisses him softly, sliding her hand from his jaw to his cheek. She keeps her hand where it is even after she leans back just enough to say, "Maybe I'll pick up some tips in Vegas."

[bprd_agent_red]

He returns the kiss and brushes his temple against hers when she breaks it.

"Maybe I'll do some marathon watchin' of high stakes poker."

[walking_napalm]

"Maybe," Liz says, her smile audible, "we could go inside now."

[bprd_agent_red]

"Yeah," He nods barely, tightening his arm around her briefly then loosens his hold and takes her hand. "Let's do that."