(Untitled)

[butterflyfactor]

It was the first time since her arrival that Layla had been in a crowded place and not had anyone ask about or comment on her tattoo. The lace and feather butterfly mask she wore covered it completely. It added to her general feeling of well being- not the anonymity, because no one there knew or cared who she was regardless of her garb- because she

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[howmanylives]

There's a timeless quality to Layla Miller. Even with the mask, she looks like something out of an old movie, the dress hugging to her every curve, her hair pulled away from her face, leaving her neck bare and begging to be kissed. Chandler wrote that the good detective never gets married, but looking at her makes me want to settle for mediocrity. Or maybe that's just the booze talking, it's hard to tell. Either way, one thing's for certain -- she's stunning.

Dressed in gray and hands momentarily free, Jamie ambled toward Layla with the sort of confidence that came only with a few drinks. He was loose, relaxed -- less like Prime, and more like a dupe, that one, buried part of his personality that was good at mingling at parties and talking to beautiful women. Sliding in next to her, he leaned against the wall.

"Hiding from someone?"

[butterflyfactor]

She smiled a little, lips closed, and lifted her eyebrows behind her mask. She left her hands where they were, behind her, pressed between the wall and her back.

It's not an unfair question. The answer's a little complicated and involved, though. The simplest one is, no. Or at least I shouldn't be. I know I'm not hiding from him, at least.

"What good would hiding from the world's greatest detective do me?" she asked.

[howmanylives]

He considered that for a moment, head tilting to the side. Then, with his arms folded across his chest, he narrowed his eyes. There were a lot of ways he could answer, and he knew every last one of them, though his head was a little clouded from the drinks he'd had earlier.

"You tell me."

[butterflyfactor]

Layla glanced up at him, trying to judge how many drinks it had taken him to get this Bogey. Not that he didn't wear it well, but she figured it might be smart to be aware of the fact that it had definitely been more than one.

"Give me one reason why I should," she countered.

[howmanylives]

"In some universe I'm still your boss," he replied easily, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "I'd tell you it's because I said please, but pleasantries didn't seem all that important. Maybe next time."

[butterflyfactor]

Layla kept herself from grinning, so it looked like a smirk, albeit an attractive one. She tilted her head to the side a little.

"Pretty optimistic. Counting on a next time."

[howmanylives]

He matched her smirk with one of his own, flashing her a set of straight, white teeth.

"When you're me, there's always a next time. Optimism has nothing to do with it -- it's just a fact, nothing more."

[butterflyfactor]

"Boiling it all down to facts," Layla said, nodding a little, looking amused. Hard boiling it, even.

"That's a detective for you."

[howmanylives]

"And it's a detective who knows you haven't answered my question yet," he replied, his smirk not fading. "What good would hiding from the world's greatest detective do you?"

[butterflyfactor]

"Who's to say it wasn't rhetorical?" Layla said, and tilted her head back so the messy bun her hair was twisted into was resting against the wall. She crossed her arms against her ribcage and kicked one heel- because she had found heels, sleek, black and high, if a little old fashioned and not the stilettos that would have gone best with the ensemble- up against the stucco.

"The better question is, why would I hide from him at all?"

[howmanylives]

His eyes followed the line of Layla's leg from her ankle to where her dress tugged tight against her thigh. It was, he could attest, a very nice leg, but it wasn't nearly as distracting as her neck, which he'd been drawn to since he first spotted her outside not a few minutes prior.

"If I gave you my theories on that, we'd be here all night," he said, feigning an almost apologetic tone. "I'd rather hear yours."

[butterflyfactor]

Maybe I'm tired of being looked at like I'm some sort of problem he can't figure out. Or maybe I'm a little wary of kissing him and having him running away again. I guess I have a couple theories of my own.

Instead, she shrugged, too laconic to be helpless.

"Don't have one. I wasn't hiding."

[howmanylives]

"Then what were you doing out here?" he asked, gesturing to their surroundings. "Standing in the dark doesn't make for the most enjoyable of pastimes." He paused, then amended, "Well, not when you're alone."

That's definitely the booze talking. Jeez, Madrox, how many drinks have you had, anyway?

[butterflyfactor]

"Getting some air," she suggested. "Enjoying the evening. It's crowded out here, and it's even more crowded in there. Anyway." She glanced him over and one corner of her mouth quirked up.

"Turns out I'm not alone."

[howmanylives]

"No, I guess you're not," he agreed, eyebrows raised. "Still... just standing here doesn't make for much fun, either. It's a party. You should be dancing. We should be dancing."

He extended a hand, palm facing upwards. "Dance with me."

[butterflyfactor]

Layla was still for a moment, looking at his hand. She stepped away from the wall, sliding her palm across his, and smiled a little.

"Okey dokey."