By unusual coincidence, there's a young lady who looks like she's on her way to the beach, judging by her getup. Seems Bar has finally convinced her that swimming would be a good idea, as least as long as she has a terrycloth hoodie coverup that she can zip up whenever she feels too immodest.
In spite of looking great in a bikini, it's pretty clear that this is her first time wearing one.
She was just about to pass him by on her way to the door outside when she stops.
Early and Elizabeth rarely go hand in hand. But today's morning finds her at a table with enough breakfast food for at least three people. Food is usually first priority, though new people get a close second.
Bruised new people require curious watching. The curious watching doesn't stop her from munching on bacon while she does it.
Michael is very good at knowing when he's being watched, mainly because (these days especially) he knows he always is. And he's not the type to just ignore it, unless he needs to.
So he looks right back, mentally assessing whether she's watching him for surveillance reasons, or curiousity or maybe she just likes courier outfits? In the end, he just raises a hand, pastes on a deliberatley large-but-fake smile and says,
It's a mix of curiosity, he's bruised after all, and the fact that sometimes she and the shadowed thing that shifts behind her eyes occasionally just likes to watch people. They are technically food to any larger predator.
Liz smirks back, a lick to the fingers holding the bacon. "Hi." There's a heartbeat of pause before she continues, "You look new."
There's a man sitting not far from the door, half watching the window, half listening to a recording through one ear, and making resulting notes on a tablet notepad.
He turns at the voice, and blinks at all the bruises on one face.
Michael is, by now, sitting at a table with a glass of water in front of him. He's trying to process what he's been told about this place but everything he's been told just creates more questions.
Which isn't to say he isn't aware of people nearby. He's been trained too well and too long not to be.
She's been watching him for half an hour now, buried in a dark corner, getting acquainted with a really good bottle of tequila (and a lime soda on the side -- for refreshment's sake).
Her first reaction when she saw him was to run to him, but something made her hesitate. Maybe it was the kick in the teeth he gave her last time, or maybe it was just trying to see if it was really him, or someone who just happened to be wearing his face.
No such luck. It's him. But she remembers that cut on his forehead. She remembers that surly attitude and that ground glass smile.
This is Michael Westen just a few hours after he got dumped in Miami.
He finds himself, eventually, alone. In a bar - a magic bar - God knows where, or when or how. And while he really just wants to run the hell out of the door and get on with getting his life back, chalk this up to a bad dream or an hallucination brought on by that beating or anything...he doesn't leave. Charlie had said enough to pique his curiousity.
So he gets a drink, and dumps the stupid courier hat while he's at it. Looks around for one more sweep of the bar...and sees Fiona.
It's kind of like a lifebelt when you're drowning, in all honesty. Something familiar when the world's been turned upside down. He's thought that about her before. Familiar but not stable. Not Fi. Never stable.
"Michael." She pushes out a chair with her foot, inviting him to sit. Using the excuse to drink in the sight of him. Even beat to shit, he looks good. She can't keep the smile off her face. He'll always look good to her.
"So you finally found Milliways. Or rather, Milliways found you."
He puts his water down and sits. In front of her, he has no worries about putting a hand over his ribs as he does - they hurt like hell but he wasn't going to let it show in front of anyone else.
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In spite of looking great in a bikini, it's pretty clear that this is her first time wearing one.
She was just about to pass him by on her way to the door outside when she stops.
"New here?" she asks.
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'Depends where 'here' is.'
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"Milliways," she answers, tugging her coverup around her. "This is Milliways."
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'Sorry.'
Beat, while he takes a deep breath and then smiles. It's a smile of I'm being patient and perhaps you can help me so I know smiling might help.
'Right. Milliways.
...that doesn't mean much to me. I was in an office block and I'm pretty sure I was aiming for the hallway.'
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Bruised new people require curious watching. The curious watching doesn't stop her from munching on bacon while she does it.
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So he looks right back, mentally assessing whether she's watching him for surveillance reasons, or curiousity or maybe she just likes courier outfits? In the end, he just raises a hand, pastes on a deliberatley large-but-fake smile and says,
'Hi.'
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Liz smirks back, a lick to the fingers holding the bacon. "Hi." There's a heartbeat of pause before she continues, "You look new."
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And none too happy about it, if she can see past the faux grin and focus on the sarcasm in his tone.
'And I would just love to know where I'm new to. If it's not too much trouble.'
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He turns at the voice, and blinks at all the bruises on one face.
"What happened to you?"
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Which isn't to say he isn't aware of people nearby. He's been trained too well and too long not to be.
'Somebody took offense at a joke.'
The joke was most certainly on him.
'I guess some people have no sense of humour.'
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"New?"
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He doesn't sound impressed with the state of things.
'Whether I like it or not.'
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Her first reaction when she saw him was to run to him, but something made her hesitate. Maybe it was the kick in the teeth he gave her last time, or maybe it was just trying to see if it was really him, or someone who just happened to be wearing his face.
No such luck. It's him. But she remembers that cut on his forehead. She remembers that surly attitude and that ground glass smile.
This is Michael Westen just a few hours after he got dumped in Miami.
He'll notice her sooner or later, she thinks.
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So he gets a drink, and dumps the stupid courier hat while he's at it. Looks around for one more sweep of the bar...and sees Fiona.
It's kind of like a lifebelt when you're drowning, in all honesty. Something familiar when the world's been turned upside down. He's thought that about her before. Familiar but not stable. Not Fi. Never stable.
He goes over. What else is he going to do?
'Hello, Fi.'
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"So you finally found Milliways. Or rather, Milliways found you."
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He puts his water down and sits. In front of her, he has no worries about putting a hand over his ribs as he does - they hurt like hell but he wasn't going to let it show in front of anyone else.
'How long have you known about it?'
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