Veronica Mars

"I'll let Robin and his merry men know you say so," she says.

And then she fixes Veronica with her own cold stare, repeating a line she never thought she'd have to say more than once. "I do not kill innocents."

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"Oh!" Brightly, "So now you kill people, too. That's new."

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Fi can't deny that she's killed before.

"Not directly, no. Not anymore." She takes a long swig of her beer. "The pay isn't as good."

She looks back at the muted television.

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Indy's eyebrows climb a bit in the aftermath of that (rather blunt) revelation. A history of contract killing isn't a red flag per se. It's just another piece of the puzzle that is Fiona, and an intriguing one at that.

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Nothing good on the TV except the flashing, looping screen asking Play Again? Veronica slips down from her chair, slapping one hand on the countertop, a little harder than she'd intended.

"How fantastic, that you decided to stop murdering people because the compensation wasn't sufficient. You're a real saint."

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Fi's head comes around.

"We're from different worlds, sweetie. Even if your Earth has a Bosnia or a Belarus or even a Belfast, I highly doubt you've ever been there."

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Veronica barks a laugh.

"Oh yes, please do jump to conclusions about how easy my life must have been because I've made the right choices where you made the wrong ones. Beautiful. I can't wait to see what justification you'll use next."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gives Fi a nod. "Go on. Thrill me."

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Fi takes a breath and lets it out slowly. This is so not worth her time or energy.

"I never claimed to be a saint. And I never said your life was easy. And my choices? Are my own."

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"Well at least we can agree on that point. Everyone's responsible for their -- choices."

This last word is spoken quite pointedly to Indy.

"And now I think I choose to leave. Enjoy the rest of your day."

And she brushes past, out the door without another word.

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"Veronica... ugh."

Indy groans and starts after her. He should have probably gotten involved a little sooner.

"Don't worry," he says to Fiona over his shoulder. "I can fix this."

Hustling along the corridor, he catches up to Veronica before she reaches her room.

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Veronica doesn't stop, doesn't turn until she's right outside her door, and then she spins on Indy.

"Is that why you didn't want me to meet her? You didn't want me to find out you were sleeping with some kind of – morally stunted mercenary?"

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"I didn't know she used to do that kind of work," Indy concedes.

His expression is stony and his voice is a bit gruffer than usual.

"It doesn't matter though. I'm not gonna prejudice her for it. And you shouldn't either. What's gotten into you?"

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Startled, Veronica exclaims, "What's gotten into--?"

She cuts herself off as her voice echoes down the hallway, along nearly endless rows of rooms. Nothing good can ever come of pissing off the neighbours. Instead, she steps in closer as she lowers her tone to a mutter.

"I'm not 'pre-judging' anything. She just told me she kills people for money. You were there -- don't tell me she looked sad about it, either. How is this not a problem for you?"

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"Killed," Indy corrects.

"A remorseful mercenary wouldn't be a very good one," he then points out. "The fact she was honest about it doesn't make her a bad person."

He sighs.

"Vee. I'm touched that you care. But, thing is, if everyone judged everyone else on what they've done outside Milliways, there'd be no social interaction at all. You gotta give people a chance to prove themselves one way or the other. That's just how it works here."

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"Oh, yes, sorry, she used to murder folks herself but now she apparently chooses the more indirect routes of bombing and gun-running. Good thing she's proud of this, or her work might suffer! Come on!"

That professorial, 'I-know-better-than-you' tone he's using is certainly not helping with her exasperation.

"Second chances are for chances are for people who ask for them. You can't say that you magically assume people are going to put their gosh-golly-goody two-shoes on when they walk through that door downstairs. That's naïve!"

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"No, I don't," Indy says, maintaining an aura of calm that might be just as annoying as his tone. "But I don't assume the worst either. A clean slate's what they get. We have Security if they don't stick to the rules."

He's clearly disappointed in her.

"I'm not telling you what to think. Shun her if you like, but I'm not going to."

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"Are you possessed? What am I assuming? She told me she was a criminal."

She steps away, shaking her head.

"Whatever. Enjoy your booty call. I just hope you start thinking with your brain instead of the organ that's handling that stuff now."

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That earns a frown from Indy.

"And you enjoy the view from your high horse," he says, starting to head back to his suite.

"Oh, and thanks for not embarrassing me."

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"Hey, anytime."

Veronica very purposely doesn't slam the door. It takes a lot of effort not to do so, but that would be childish. And she's not the one acting like a child here.

She flops onto the couch, next to where her laptop is plugged in to charge, and considers her options. This doesn't take very long. There's really only one.

Indy called it, she muses as she flips open the computer. If there's one thing Veronica Mars is good at, it's being thorough.

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Meanwhile, Indy stumps back to his apartment, wondering why she cares so much about this. It's not like potentially dangerous women are a new thing for him. He can handle them.

"Hey. Sorry about that," he says to Fiona on his return.

"She's very big on justice."

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Fi is standing at the window, looking out over the lake, fingers idly picking at the label on her beer bottle.

"She wouldn't be the first." She turns to face him, her expression dark and perhaps a touch sad. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make things difficult for you."

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Indy strolls over to join her, recapturing his own beer en route.

"Don't apologize," he asserts. "You were just honest. She'll get over it."

He shows her a little smirk. "Long as you don't kill me or blow up her apartment, it'll be fine."

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"You misunderstand me. I wasn't apologising for my past."

Her tone tells him she's not finding the humour in the situation.

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"I know," Indy replies, serving her with a more neutral expression.

"Just the way it came out, right?" He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. I think she's the one who needs to apologize really."

Not that he expects that to ever happen.

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