Drinks in the Library - RP for mom_of_steel

[hell_of_heaven]

The library. Lionel's refuge from abuse as a child, and his kingdom as an adult - every book specifically selected, read, and analyzed. He can quote much of them from memory, these beautiful tomes, many valuable early editions, some simply practical copies littered with his own notes and observations. They are, in many ways, his greatest fortune.

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[mom_of_steel]

The nice thing about being around Lionel, for Martha, is that she doesn't need to worry about what she's wearing. She shows up a little after nine wearing exactly what she had worn to work that day - blouse, skirt, heels - and for all he knows, she's wearing an expensive cocktail dress. Or sweatpants. She likes that she gets to be somewhat mysterious in his presence.

"Yes, it's me," she says quietly, hoping not to draw any attention to the library. This rendez-vous is entirely innocent, of course, but that wouldn't stop Lex from snooping around, asking questions, and even telling Clark.

She steps into the room and spots him. "Why do I feel as if we're engaging in some sort of covert operation?" She asks, with a smile he can't see, putting her purse down and moving to sit beside him. "It's a tiny bit thrilling in all honesty."

[hell_of_heaven]

Despite the lack of visual information, there's still a distinct presence he can feel whenever she's in the room... Perhaps it's perfume, perhaps the sound of her footsteps, but he always finds himself relaxing when he knows she's near. He'd despised his previous assistants - each and every one had made him feel like an incompetent invalid - but Martha... there's just something about her.

"In a way it is," he says. "A covert operation, I mean. Lex does tend to disapprove of anyone having any fun... And you're 'dropping off paperwork', I assume?"

[mom_of_steel]

She pulls a manila folder out of her bag and drops it on the counter. "Copies I made of some old files you already have."

She looks around the room, wishing she hadn't sat so close to him. She always forgets about the magnetism between them when they're apart.

"By the way, we're not technically having fun yet, so he'll have trouble sniffing us out.

[hell_of_heaven]

"Not having fun?" Lionel asks, carefully taking the brandy bottle in both hands. "Well, I did promise you some very expensive alcohol that would otherwise waste away in my cellars... What's your poison?"

[mom_of_steel]

"Brandy's fine," she replies, gently taking the bottle from him. "You'd better let me do the honors."

Slowly, she pours a little into each glass. "So. Any particular reason why I'm here tonight? Boredom, I suspect. No overly enthusiastic young interns to entertain you?"

She hands one glass to him, making sure his hand has a firm grasp on it before letting go.

[hell_of_heaven]

"Mm." He sips the brandy, a little disappointed by the scarce amount in his glass. "It seems as though I've lost much of my charm and intrigue with my sight... Lex has the advantages of youth, and very rarely walking into walls."

[mom_of_steel]

She raises an eyebrow. "Is that meant to imply that you and Lex actually go after the same women?" She asks, with more than a hint of disdain in her voice, as she takes a sip from her glass. "I feel sorry for you. There's more to life than interns and models. And I've never found youth to be quite as advantageous as you say."

[hell_of_heaven]

Lionel waves a dismissive hand. "Experience, yes. But there's nothing intrinsically better about an old body. Still, I have to say that my interest in beauty has diminished somewhat lately..."

[mom_of_steel]

If only he could see her face.

She rolls her eyes, then glares at him. "I'd bet on my own body against any 25-year-old's, thank you very much."

[hell_of_heaven]

"No doubt," he says dryly, not wishing to give any hint of the hours he's spent trying to recall precisely what she had looked like: the shade of red hair, the curve of her figure, the passion in her eyes... "But the point is moot. Neither you nor a 25-year-old is flinging herself into my bed."

He frowns. "Where's the brandy?"

[mom_of_steel]

She picks up the bottle and pours a bit more into his glass, only a bit grudgingly. "Karma. He who once had so many women now has none," she says with a shrug as she puts the bottle down again. "Although I'm not sure how many women actually fling themselves into bed. I can't recall any flinging that I've done in the recent past. The art of seduction must be entirely lost on you."

[hell_of_heaven]

If there's one thing Lionel misses above all others, it's the ability to glare. "No, not entirely. But not every sexual encounter is worth spending the time and effort... Or investing any emotional weight." The women he had cared about had, more often than not, wound up hating him.

[mom_of_steel]

And if there's one thing Martha misses, it's his ability to see her glare at him. "God, it's no wonder women aren't flinging themselves into your bed. The way you talk about it." She throws back the rest of the liquid in her glass. "If it's not worth the time and the effort, why bother in the first place? You get so much enjoyment out of a brief, anonymous tryst?"

She pours more brandy into her glass. "Men. I'm so thrilled I didn't marry a man like you. No offense meant. Not too much anyway."

[hell_of_heaven]

He cocks his head to the side, considering the question. "It's an evolutionary drive, Martha. A warm body. Long-term relationships based on love are really a very modern phenomenon, and not as common as you'd like to think. Most couples who do stay together... well, it's habit and a need for financial security more than anything else."

[mom_of_steel]

She purses her lips for a moment. "Mine is not," she replies firmly. "If I were in it for financial security, well...I'd be with someone like you. But I've only been with one man in twenty-one years. And I don't consider that to be a phenomenon."

[hell_of_heaven]

"But it is," he objects after a sip of brandy. "Evolutionarily speaking, what we call 'love' is only sufficient to conceive a child, and perhaps raise it for a year or two. Then men are bound to spread their seed elsewhere."