{ Unlikely Companions }
Unlikely Companions
post-S1; alicia florrick, eli gold
Neither expected to find company behind the glass and steel monstrosity that was Chicago's courthouse.
*
“Oh.”
A simple exclamation, a single sound that sums up the awkward situation so perfectly; neither expected to find company behind the metal and glass monstrosity that was Chicago’s courthouse. Each of them had gone looking for a space to be alone, even if just for a moment, to escape the job (him), the commotion (her) that was their lives.
They size each other up, he looking at her as if she were a puzzle that could be taken apart and put back together; she jutting her chin forward, the unspoken ‘you can try but you will fail’ implicit in her stature, the line of her jaw, her hard eyes.
A clinical mind. Knowledge that nothing is ever as it seems. Both possess these... qualities; though use them for different purposes. He to manipulate the public, she to get from day-to-day with her head held high.
They glare, until Eli finally concedes and holds up a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter.
He raises his eyebrows. “I can’t imagine you smoke.”
Alicia rolls her eyes as she takes the pack from Eli’s out-stretched hand and leans forward, Eli cupping his hand to shield the flame from the wind as he lights the cigarette.
“I haven’t since college,” Alicia says, “and even then...”
Her sentence trails into nothing and Eli watches as she twirls the cigarette nimbly between two long fingers, somehow managing not to burn herself. The light from the tip glints off her perfectly-manicured nails, oddly hypnotic, and he starts when she speaks.
“Why are you here?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest as the wind blows, fast and cold.
“I get sick of courtrooms,” Eli says with a shrug.
Alicia laughs, harsh but soft, and finally brings the cigarette to her lips, inhaling briefly.
“So do I.”
He lights in his own cigarette and the two fall into a companionable silence.
“I should go back in,” Alicia says, stubbing her cigarette out beneath her heel.
“Yes.”
“Goodbye, Mr Gold.”
She doesn’t smile as she turns and walks away, footfalls loud against the pavement.
Eli looks down at the ground, his muttered ‘goodbye, Mrs Florrick’ lost in the wind.
post-S1; alicia florrick, eli gold
Neither expected to find company behind the glass and steel monstrosity that was Chicago's courthouse.
*
“Oh.”
A simple exclamation, a single sound that sums up the awkward situation so perfectly; neither expected to find company behind the metal and glass monstrosity that was Chicago’s courthouse. Each of them had gone looking for a space to be alone, even if just for a moment, to escape the job (him), the commotion (her) that was their lives.
They size each other up, he looking at her as if she were a puzzle that could be taken apart and put back together; she jutting her chin forward, the unspoken ‘you can try but you will fail’ implicit in her stature, the line of her jaw, her hard eyes.
A clinical mind. Knowledge that nothing is ever as it seems. Both possess these... qualities; though use them for different purposes. He to manipulate the public, she to get from day-to-day with her head held high.
They glare, until Eli finally concedes and holds up a pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter.
He raises his eyebrows. “I can’t imagine you smoke.”
Alicia rolls her eyes as she takes the pack from Eli’s out-stretched hand and leans forward, Eli cupping his hand to shield the flame from the wind as he lights the cigarette.
“I haven’t since college,” Alicia says, “and even then...”
Her sentence trails into nothing and Eli watches as she twirls the cigarette nimbly between two long fingers, somehow managing not to burn herself. The light from the tip glints off her perfectly-manicured nails, oddly hypnotic, and he starts when she speaks.
“Why are you here?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest as the wind blows, fast and cold.
“I get sick of courtrooms,” Eli says with a shrug.
Alicia laughs, harsh but soft, and finally brings the cigarette to her lips, inhaling briefly.
“So do I.”
He lights in his own cigarette and the two fall into a companionable silence.
“I should go back in,” Alicia says, stubbing her cigarette out beneath her heel.
“Yes.”
“Goodbye, Mr Gold.”
She doesn’t smile as she turns and walks away, footfalls loud against the pavement.
Eli looks down at the ground, his muttered ‘goodbye, Mrs Florrick’ lost in the wind.