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I don't mind getting a martini or two through the kindness of strangers, but... where might be the best place to work around here?
[ooc: After an afternoon at the range, the best place to find Julia is apparently on the corner bar stool at Lux.]
[ooc: After an afternoon at the range, the best place to find Julia is apparently on the corner bar stool at Lux.]
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They've got a pool table.
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And then she smiles just a little bit, completely involuntarily.]
You always know just what to say, don't you.
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[He tosses off the rest of the glass and orders another. He's not moody, he's not sullen, he just feels like drinking.
A lot of drinking.
His refill arrives and he takes it and stands. Almost offers her his arm. And then thinks better of it.]
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But it doesn't stop her from asking to have a second martini sent over to her at the table.]
...I still say I could drink you under the table if I really wanted to.
[She flashes him the tiniest of smiles when she's even with him and then moves to the pool table one step ahead.]
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Let's not and say we did.
[Because his sentiments echo hers. He might want to get good and sloshed but he's going to make sure he does the majority of his drinking away from her.
He gets to the table and sweeps a hand over the green. It's a little old, but it'll work.]
I'll rack.
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I'll agree to that.
[There was a time when they didn't play so safely at things like this.
On the other hand, maybe that's exactly why they're acting differently. The idea gives her heart this little rueful pang, and she does her best not to let on. Instead she finishes what's left in her martini glass and then picks up a cue, weighs it in one hand, and chalks up the tip.]
How's your game these days?
[She only glances at him.]
If you're rusty, I can go easy on you.
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Rusty. Well, we'll see, won't we?
[He goes for a stick of his own - a little weightier than he usually liked but using a bar cue doesn't leave a guy with a lot of options. He gestures to the table, indicating that she should break.]
Ladies first.
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[It's mild -- if slightly teasing -- and far from a complaint.
This is... better. It gives her something to do with her hands, something to do with her brain. Even if it is playing against the primary cause of her restlessness.
Leaning over the table, she makes an easy break, pocketing two on her first try. She goes for the solids first if she can help it, and she always has. Her next shot, angled a little off-center, isn't quite as lucky, but she straightens and steps back from the table so Spike can take his turn.]
I guess it's your chance to show me how it's done.
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He walks around the table twice, chooses his shot and takes it easily. And then the three after that. His next shot may or may not be thrown - either way it's a long bank that doesn't quite make the cut, and he's not talking. He returns to his drink and salutes Julia with it moments later.]
Consider this a warm up.
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Did she screw up purposefully? Or was she a little preoccupied by the idea of him watching her?
She's almost certain it might be a little from column A and a little from column B, and as soon as she thinks it she smothers the thought.]
I will.
[Her eyes flash at the challenge. With her game face on, she prowls around to the other side of the table and takes a chance on banking a shot into a pocket.
She makes it work, fortunately, and after two more turns -- and two more pocketed balls -- she looks up with a ghost of a wry smile on her face when she misses again.]
Your move, bounty hunter.
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He's very definitely, and very pointedly not thinking about Julia. Not about her being alive, not really about her even being here. For all he knows, this too is just a dream. If he believed in a higher power he'd say the SOB had a sick sense of irony.
Still. Watching her move, watching her breathe...
He takes another drink.]
So you're already looking for work, huh?
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I don't have any better ideas. I hear the... deities aren't fond of squatters.
[It's harder than it should be to focus on the game. She sets her glass down, pushes her long hair back over her shoulders, and leans on the table to line up her next shot.]
And living at a church isn't my idea of a good time.
[The balls on the table are getting sparse. She sinks one effortlessly into a corner pocket, but left with one solid ball still in play, she just barely misses sinking it.]
What about you? Is there much demand for a bounty hunter around here?
[She can't help but remember a time when question like that would've been another way of flirting with him.]
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[Unselfconsciously, his focus narrows - just to Julia, just to the table, the time and space between and around them both.
It's a staggering sense of deja vu, but he brushes it off.]
I agree about the Churches, though. They aren't my thing, either.
[Which she knows. Should know.
He takes his time chalking his stick up before his next shot, running the cue up along the rail for shape on his final ball before the 8. He sinks the 14, too, a neat cross-bank.
He chalks his stick again, reflexively, gestures to the pocket he intends with his stick.]
Two banks to the side.
[Aaaaaaand a swing and a miss. He's not expecting to win, now, Julia has always played well under pressure, and he surrenders the table to her with a courtly handwave that's not actually courtly at all.]
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