(Untitled)

[walking_napalm]

In stark contrast to the last several times that she has entered the bar, Liz today is not dressed in tatters, she's not wearing a gun, and she's not staggering. It makes for a nice change, she thinks

Comments

[spcl_agt_cooper]

He'd wanted the chance to just... step away for a moment, and regain some equilibrium. (Not like he's flappable, at least outwardly, but that doesn't mean Cooper always feels that way.)

This is why he has a cup of coffee and a copy of Democracy in America.

Liz gets a glance as he settles in an armchair nearby.

[walking_napalm]

Liz is committed to finding out just how Mrs. Ferrars died, but that doesn't mean she lacks situational awareness. As the man crosses in front of her and takes the armchair, her eyes flick up from the Agatha Christie novel and she watches him pass. It's a quick look, but enough that when he glances at her, she's been caught.

She half smiles at him with one side of her mouth, a touch rueful.

[spcl_agt_cooper]

"Evening," Cooper says, politely.

She looked pretty engrossed; he's not going to be offended if she heads back to her book. Not like he doesn't understand.

[walking_napalm]

Her smile strengthens a little more as she takes in the dark suit, the tie, the shiny shoes. It's a familiar uniform. "Hi." She tucks her finger into her book, to keep the page.

"Let me guess -- FBI? CIA?"

[nurse_espinosa]

Carla has changed out of her scrubs by now, instead in a colorful top and loose jeans, and has settled in an armchair nearby.

The book gets a glance, like she's trying to make out the title without bothering Liz.

[walking_napalm]

Liz doesn't look up, but her book rises (in the interest of making the cover visible).

One side of her mouth twitches.

[nurse_espinosa]

After a moment, Carla leans back in her chair again.

But she's smiling slightly, too.

"Sorry."

[walking_napalm]

Liz lowers the book, which is when it becomes more immediately apparent that she's half-smiling.

"It's okay. It's just an old Agatha Christie; nothing top secret."

[ichthyosapien]

Someone is lifting her feet and settling into the space beneath them before letting them back down. It's such an unconscious motion, Abe is halfway through it before he realises, this isn't his Liz. One eye squints as he looks over at her, half expecting a lick of flame to be directed at his ear for the presumption.

"Ah damn it. Sorry. Should have asked."

[walking_napalm]

Liz's eyes rise from her book very quickly; she's deeply startled both by his presence (she was really into the book) and by the move.

"--Hi," she says. "No, it's okay."

(And it is, but from the way that she's staring, it's pretty obvious that for her relationship with her Abe: this would be atypical.)

[ichthyosapien]

There's an awkward moment as he debates standing. In the end, he decides just to scoot farther down the couch, letting her retreat to her end.

"Hi. I'm an idiot. Good book?"

[walking_napalm]

"I just started." She shuts the paperback around her finger to mark her place; lets the closed book rest on her knees. "It's still a little slow." Wry: "Roger Ackroyd isn't dead yet."

Her response leaned toward absent, as it wasn't really what she was thinking about; she's looking at Abe, a little careful, from her end of the sofa. "Are you psychic?" she asks abruptly. (She is beginning to suspect that he is not.) Explaining: "The Abe I know is; he reads better when he touches something." Or someone. It doesn't usually bother Liz, but Abe tends to be pretty cautious about touch and personal boundaries, not wanting to accidentally pry.

[anchor_branded]

He's not in a tux, but in a white uniform-

And at any rate, Joris certainly recognises Liz, though he's not quite sure if he should interrupt her- and if yes, how to exactly do so.

... So he'll just stand there for a moment, while figuring this out.

[walking_napalm]

"Hi Joris," says Liz without looking up.

She turns the next page.

[anchor_branded]

...

Or that works!

With a sudden smile, Joris sits down on the far end of the sofa (or at least, what's left of it).

"Hi- you're looking better than last time, though Miss Artemis did make sure everyone was ok, so. Though I think next time you should tell Coyote that she shouldn't make you wear something like that, since I'd imagine a dress wouldn't be easy to fight in."

[walking_napalm]

By the end of this recital, Liz has lowered her book. Joris is the recipient of a momentarily sour look. Then she says, "I'll make you a deal. No more dresses for me; no more running between two people who're about to start throwing fire at each other for you."