The Caribbean Club, Key Largo, Florida, Saturday night

[whoisalicewhite]

The music was live and laid-back, the drinks were cold, and the bar food was good. Not as good as at Luke's or the Portland pub, but still pretty decent. Parker was tapping her foot to the music and nibbling on chips and salsa.

"Are you guys ready to go back yet?" To the boat or to Fandom, she wasn't specifying which.

[for the guys]

Comments

[vdistinctive]

Eliot took a long pull on his beer and shrugged. "I ain't in any hurry."

That was the joy of being on vacation. No hurrying.

[whoisalicewhite]

"Me neither," Parker said contentedly, swiping Hardison's drink and taking a sip of it, then drinking from her own. "I've been thinking we should do a couple jobs when we get back." And check on Kathy and Raven. But she finally felt relaxed enough that that wasn't intimidating. "But right now I want to dance."

[vdistinctive]

"Be my guest, darlin'," Eliot said, gesturing with the top of his beer bottle. "I'm happy to watch."

[whoisalicewhite]

Parker got up as the band started up a raucous version of Bad to the Bone, and held out her hands. "Somebody dance with me!"

[vdistinctive]

Really, the steel drums for this song were just . . . odd.

Eliot jerked his thumb at Hardison. "Drag him out there. You know I don't dance."

[whoisalicewhite]

Parker twirled away from the table like a ballerina, then twirled back like she was on a rubber-band. "Why don't you dance?" And why just have a conversation when you could dance at the same time?

[vdistinctive]

Eliot shrugged. "Just don't. Don't paint, either."

[whoisalicewhite]

Parker paused, then went back to finding the beat. "Houses, or canvases?" And why not?

[vdistinctive]

"I mean, if someone was all 'hey, come help paint my house' I probably wouldn't automatically say no," Eliot said. "But I don't, like. Make a habit out of it."

[whoisalicewhite]

Parker actually stopped dancing for a second to lean in, peering at his face. "Eliot, do you know how to dance?"

[vdistinctive]

"Of course I know how to dance," Eliot grumbled. ". . . You know, in theory."

Look, the sort of stuff he did gracefully with his body was generally really frowned upon on most dance floors. And this place did not have a mosh pit.

[whoisalicewhite]

"El-i-ot," Parker sing-songed, shifting from foot to foot. "You're good at everything! This'll be easy. I swear. I mean, if Hardison can teach me a dance while I'm wearing 30-pound weights on my feet, how hard can it be?"

[vdistinctive]

"Yeah, it'll be super easy. 'Cause I'm gonna stay here and watch you do it."

Really, what could be easier than that?

[whoisalicewhite]

There was no way she could actually, physically drag Eliot anywhere he didn't want to go; and this required some thought. So Parker spun herself out onto the dance floor, shimmying and gliding, moving her shoulders as the band wound up the first song, and then moved into something slower. Tequila Sunrise, and ha, that was a drink, too.

Carefully, she eeled her way back to the guys, and as other people paired up to just kind of drift around the dance floor, she gave Eliot the Puppy Eyes of Please, clasping her hands under her chin.

[vdistinctive]

Eliot raised a hand in a rhetorical "look what I have to put up with" gesture, and then pointed at Hardison with his thumb.

[whoisalicewhite]

Parker pouted at him. No, Eliot, you! Look, she's dancing by herself, like with a ghost. Isn't that sad?