watching_you | OOM: Suite 130

Of course, he lets her go, giving the briefest thought to the possibility that he did something wrong.

No. No he thinks this is something entirely different.

Without looking away, he shifts the chair and sits, his hands resting on his knees, elbows turned out, his entire awareness focused on her. It's an almost predatory look, but there is a softness around his eyes.

"That bad?" He teases, gently.

Her breaths come as though she's just run a sprint. She moves her hand to rub at the back of her neck to hide the fact that her fingers are shaking.

The solidity of the counter is welcome support.

"Funny." The tone she was aiming for was 'joking', but her voice is thick enough that it doesn't quite come across. "You're funny."

This reads as trauma to him and his concern is rising.

He holds out a hand to her, beckoning gently. "Come here." His voice is quiet.

For a moment she hesitates, unsure of his intentions. But she does step forward in the end, approaching close enough to slip her hand into his.

He takes it in both of his, looking up at her, radiating concern now.

"It's been a full day," he starts. "And there's always tomorrow. But if you want to tell me just what's going on, I'd really like to know. I can't help if I don't know what the problem is. And you know me well enough by now to know, that's probably the thing I hate the most. Feeling helpless in the face of a problem."

Startled, she blinks down at him.

"What? What are you..?"

But that's not entirely honest, she realizes, and trails off, biting her lip.

"Listen. It's not -- it's not a problem, not something that can be solved. There's no one to beat up or rescue. It's just a... a thing." She lifts her free hand as though she intends to touch his cheek, then lets it drop. "You can help -- you have been helping -- by just... being you."

He doesn't quite buy it. There's always something to be done, but if that's what she needs from him, he can do that. He looks into her face, searching for some kind of clue as to what's really wrong.

"Fair enough." It has to be.

He doesn't let go of her hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles in tiny circles.

Her expression softens, touched by his concern. 'One kiss' might have been a bit of a lie, because she steps closer and bends to touch her lips gently, chastely, to his forehead.

Straightening again, she says, "Thank you."

Grumble, growl, grumble. He rises again and takes her in his arms, pressing her to his chest and resting his chin on top of her head.

"I know. Those wereducks take their toll after awhile," he teases.

She does laugh, more at his tone than at the joke itself. His arms are a comfort, and she hugs him right back, resting her cheek against his chest.

"It's okay. I chose this life. The life of an Iradicator."

His chest rumbles with laughter and he holds her for just another few moments.

And then he's moving her away a bit, looking into her face. He appears about to say something, but instead, he bends and nuzzles her cheek, laying a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth.

She sighs happily at this, but she's calmer, now, no longer filled with such violent need, and so makes no move to reciprocate.

Instead she nudges him.

"What? You looked like you were going to say something. What is it?"

He frowns a bit. "I was going to ask if you'd like for me to take you back."

His tone fills her in on the rest of the sentiment. He's not anxious to see her go.

"Oh."

That brings her up short. She lets her hands slide to his sides, disappointment visible in her face.

"I guess you probably should."

"You'd be missed, otherwise."

He sighs heavily, his hand straying to touch her chin. He can't get enough of looking at her it seems.

Conversational, "Actually, time stops in my world when I leave it. Don't ask how that works."

Her fingers toy with the shirt at his sides, absently.

"And I'm in and out of the bar enough that no one will even notice there." Suddenly, she make a face. "Oh, damn it. Indy's going to ask questions."

"Oh he will, will he?" Mills' brow draws together.

"I'm curious to hear what you'll say."

Actually, he's wondering how long it'll take for her to pull together a file on him, and if it'll be any more than three pages, with 90% of the text redacted.

He thinks she's a better researcher than that, and the proposition worries him.

Lifting her eyebrows, "What would you say?

"He's not dangerous or anything, just annoying. And annoyed. Because I think he's being stupid. Which he is."

Beat.

"Maybe practice your poker face, just to be safe."

What would he say? He frowns, pondering.

He'd say it was none of the man's business, that's what he'd say.

"You want I should beat him up for you?" Again, teasing. Grumble, growl, grumble.

She grins.

"Nah. If he acts up, I can take him. But thanks for the offer."

Her hands are still at his sides, reluctant to move away.

That's fine with him. He's enjoying her touch, her proximity. His hand comes up to touch her cheek again.

He wants to ask her to stay. He doesn't know what that might entail, he just knows he hasn't felt this relaxed, this normal in a very long time.

Instead, he hears himself saying, "Come on. Get your coat and I'll walk you home."

He frowns at his pragmatic self.

Veronica forces herself not to let her smile fall.

"Sure. I can show you my trick."

She lingers a moment longer, then pulls away and heads for the front closet and her coat. She doesn't put it on, instead draping it over her arm as she returns.

"Oh, I almost forgot --" The flower he'd bought her is sitting in a cup of water on the counter. She passes to it, picking it up and shaking the water off.

"Your trick?"

He's picking up his holster and slipping it on, a motion so habitual he doesn't even really have to look. His jacket follows and he's turning back to her straightening his cuffs.

"This isn't another wereduck thing, is it?"

"No, no. Remember? Neptune or Norway."

She twirls the flower in her fingers, then sniffs it, peering at Mills.

"Pick a door, any door."

"Okay. Hmm. How about the front door?"

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