Prevarication (1/?)
To be fair, she tried. She didn't really find hockey anymore interesting than baseball or football, but hockey was something that Nate seemed to like, and so, she tried. She bought tickets to see the Bruins versus the Flames, something that Nate said would be 'no challenge, so long as the Bruins didn't choke. Again.' and then he'd taken another long drink from a glass that probably should have been empty a long time ago and Sophie had smiled and nodded and pretended she knew what that meant. And, alright, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that hockey was played on ice, but did that really mean the stadium - court? field? whatever - have to be so cold?
She was about to open her mouth to ask Nate that when his shoulders visibly tensed in front of her, and Sophie had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't to keep the young twenties couple in front of him from knocking the beer out of his hand. Nate, for all that he was a drunk and an ass, had better balance than most people she knew. Except for Parker, of course.
Over his shoulder, she couldn't see what had made Nate stop short, but she followed him anyway as he handed off both beers to an enthused hockey fan and strode purposefully through the crowd. People moved out of his way instinctively, and Sophie followed in his wake without brushing her elbows against middle aged men and young women. She took a second to admire the authority in Nate's walk. He didn't even know he was doing it, and that was probably what made it so attractive.
“Sophie,” Nate barely turned to look over his shoulder, and gave a quick jerk of his head toward a woman about fifty feet in front of them, wringing her hands and looking very, very lost. Sophie knew without asking that had seen something most others would miss. Seen a problem others would dismiss.
Maybe they installed a radar in his brain during his time at IYS.
She shook off the thought, as promising as it was, and refocused her attention on the woman in front of her. Nate split off, clearly in search of the trouble that had befallen what seemed to be a middle aged mother, probably of two.
The woman was short, shorter than Sophie, her graying hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail and wrinkled taking root at the corner of her eyes and around her mouth. In her hand she clutched a cell phone - a smart phone, Sophie corrected herself, sure that Hardison would lecture her later for mistaking the two again. In her purse, evidence of a younger child's toys peeked out of pockets.
She hoped this wasn't another kidnapping case. Nate was always so hard to deal with when it came to kids.
Not that he was easy to deal with at any time, really.
“Hello there,” Sophie smiled warmly, unsurprised when the woman turned to her with a look that spoke of trust. Parker hadn't quite figured out how to make people trust her with just two words, but she was improving everyday. Sophie liked working with her. “My friend over there,” she gestured vaguely to where Nate had wandered off. “said he saw you get in a spot of trouble. We're here to help.”
It was no surprise to Sophie that this, their third first date, ended with them sitting at their usual table at McRory's, Nate with a glass of whiskey, Sophie with water, and their client sitting teary eyed across the table from them, spinning her sad story.
If she didn't know better, she'd say Nate planned on this, every time.
She was about to open her mouth to ask Nate that when his shoulders visibly tensed in front of her, and Sophie had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't to keep the young twenties couple in front of him from knocking the beer out of his hand. Nate, for all that he was a drunk and an ass, had better balance than most people she knew. Except for Parker, of course.
Over his shoulder, she couldn't see what had made Nate stop short, but she followed him anyway as he handed off both beers to an enthused hockey fan and strode purposefully through the crowd. People moved out of his way instinctively, and Sophie followed in his wake without brushing her elbows against middle aged men and young women. She took a second to admire the authority in Nate's walk. He didn't even know he was doing it, and that was probably what made it so attractive.
“Sophie,” Nate barely turned to look over his shoulder, and gave a quick jerk of his head toward a woman about fifty feet in front of them, wringing her hands and looking very, very lost. Sophie knew without asking that had seen something most others would miss. Seen a problem others would dismiss.
Maybe they installed a radar in his brain during his time at IYS.
She shook off the thought, as promising as it was, and refocused her attention on the woman in front of her. Nate split off, clearly in search of the trouble that had befallen what seemed to be a middle aged mother, probably of two.
The woman was short, shorter than Sophie, her graying hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail and wrinkled taking root at the corner of her eyes and around her mouth. In her hand she clutched a cell phone - a smart phone, Sophie corrected herself, sure that Hardison would lecture her later for mistaking the two again. In her purse, evidence of a younger child's toys peeked out of pockets.
She hoped this wasn't another kidnapping case. Nate was always so hard to deal with when it came to kids.
Not that he was easy to deal with at any time, really.
“Hello there,” Sophie smiled warmly, unsurprised when the woman turned to her with a look that spoke of trust. Parker hadn't quite figured out how to make people trust her with just two words, but she was improving everyday. Sophie liked working with her. “My friend over there,” she gestured vaguely to where Nate had wandered off. “said he saw you get in a spot of trouble. We're here to help.”
It was no surprise to Sophie that this, their third first date, ended with them sitting at their usual table at McRory's, Nate with a glass of whiskey, Sophie with water, and their client sitting teary eyed across the table from them, spinning her sad story.
If she didn't know better, she'd say Nate planned on this, every time.