You know how to whistle, don't you Sam?

[hadtobe_said]

The house had been empty when he'd gotten home from his errands. He'd called out to Teresa, who hadn't said anything about going out, but there'd been no answer. It wasn't until he walked into the kitchen that he'd found the card. It first he assumed that it had been something his sister had sent, since it was his birthday in a few days. The

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[bettercop]

Once he entered, of course, Lisbon was waiting ready and waiting for him. All he would have seen when he first entered was most of her back -- the dress didn't cover skin on her backside until just a little above her hip -- and her calves. She was wearing a gorgeous red dress, and knew how to flaunt it. When he entered, she finally turned her head, just slightly at first, enough so that he could see the cigarette in her hand. She drew in a puff, holding it in her chest, and then released it

[hadtobe_said]

When he first entered the room he was too overwhelmed by the dress, and the body in it, to say anything. It turned out to be a goo thing, because it took his brain a couple of minutes to catch up with what was going on.

God, it was like he'd walked into the pages of a Raymond Chandler story. The scene was set, the lights were low, and she looked like every femme fatale he'd dreamed of since he'd picked up him first hardboiled crime story at the age of twelve.

"You're hard to miss," he said first, because something was expected and it gave him a moment to think. Thinking, though, was hard when she was touching him and looking like that. Where had she gotten that dress and why hadn't he seen it before? And who had seen it before?

Lighting the cigar gave him an excuse to look away for a moment; he took a puff and blew a stream of smoke to the ceiling before looking back at her. What would Sam Spade, or Bogey, do in his position?

"I've got answers, sweetheart, but that doesn't mean you're gonna like them."

[bettercop]

Good, he'd caught on quickly enough. She'd half-wondered if this little venture would be a good thing, but by the look on his face, she'd made a wise decision.

She wandered back over to his desk, sitting in his chair and propping her legs up on the desk itself. The little fan on the table was blowing her hair around, and she continued to puff on the cigarette.

"Why don't you try me? I might surprise you."

If Sam didn't pour both of them a drink soon, she'd have to do that. The bottle of scotch sat out very conspicuously on the file cabinet, though.

[hadtobe_said]

"I'd be more surprised if you didn't surprise me." The words were true both of the brunette bombshell before him and the woman underneath that had planned it all.

Used to reading her body language he noticed the brief flick of her eyes towards the file cabinet. Not tequila, but more in keeping with the bitter PI he assumed he'd been cast as.

"It's been a long night, though. I'm sure you'll understand if I need to wet my whistle; following people the likes of your friends around sure does dry a person's mouth." He filled the glasses, as there happened to be two of them, and turned to offer one to her. "Care to join me?"