Hot Child In The City

[justcallmefee]

Fiona comes in through her door, the band of her black cap soaked with sweat, and literally radiating the Florida head.  She's lugging a wooden crate with rope handles that looks like it weighs fifty plus pounds, but she manages, even with a cellphone clamped to her ear with her shoulder.

"Yeah, going into a tunnel.  Gonna lose you."  She shifts

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[still_burned]

Not far behind her (but from a different time, and location in the city) Michael enters the bar. He's in jeans and a light, white sweater - given the clothes and the muted thudthudthud from the door behind him, she can probably guess that he's moved in to his loft and it's evening there currently.

Luckily, he's not as annoyed to be here this time around though the first thing he does when the door shuts is to whirl round and check it's still there. It is, so he figures he might as well get a yoghurt here. Save him a trip to the store.

'I guess you've been working.'

There is a vaguely disapproving note to his voice.

[still_burned]

Rich, then.

He can't compete with rich.

'Aren't you the lucky girl,' he says, tonelessly, spooning yoghurt into his mouth.

Michael wears Armani. He wonders if she's forgotten.

'But I didn't think it was like you to be with a guy for his money.'

Because she's totally making it sounds like she is. To him.

[justcallmefee]

She hasn't forgotten a single detail. The fire in her eyes should tell him that. If he'd bother to ever look up from his yoghurt.

"Oh the money is just a perk, really. He's charming, too." When he wants to be. "And intense. Best part is? I don't scare him. Not even a little. It's refreshing, really."

[still_burned]

'You never scared me,' he points out.

But he can see how she'd be intimidating to a civilian.

And he hates this guy already.

[justcallmefee]

Oh so he does still care.

"No?"

[still_burned]

'No.'

He was making an observation.

Yeah.

'Why, were you trying to?'

[justcallmefee]

"Not exactly, but -- well, you were the one that ran off in the night, without leaving a forwarding address or any way I could get in touch with you." She sets her smoothie down and takes the yoghurt spoon out of his hand, licking the last little bit of sweet off the end.

"And since I thought everything was going fine, and you seemed happier than you'd ever been before, what could possibly have made you leave?" Now she's drawing a question mark in the air with the spoon. Which also might be used to gouge his eye out. (One can never tell with Fiona.)

"I spent a lot of time wondering about that. Because it was obvious that we had feelings for one another. I came to the conclusion that you're like any other man."

"Motivated. By. Fear." She punctuates each word by poking him in the sternum with the spoon.

[still_burned]

He looks down, watches her poke him and makes no move to stop it.

He was motivated by fear. Just not the type he thought she was talking about.

'Something came up,' he says, after a protracted pause. He almost looks like he's going to add more to that but in the end, doesn't.

[justcallmefee]

"Right. Well, clearly it had nothing to do with me. Clearly it was none of my business." The spoon has done a one eighty in her hand, the bowl of the utensil pressed against her palm, held in her fist, and her index finger falls along the pointed end, which is now pointed at his sternum.

Voiceover: If you ever want to determine if someone is faking a seizure or loss of consciousness, medical personnel will tell you, run your knuckles over the person's sternum. The pain is so severe, there's no way a conscious person will fail to react to it.

"Nothing whatsoever to do with fear."

[still_burned]

He's sees what she's doing. And so, makes no move whatsoever to stop her or protect himself. He just looks her in the eye.

'I'm a spy. Things happen and I have to deal with them.'

He knows she deserves more than this. But he's not there yet.

[justcallmefee]

She never breaks eye contact with him, not for a moment.

"Fear, Michael. Think about it. It's the only thing that's ever stood between you and I being together."

She takes a step back and flips the spoon at him. Hard.

[still_burned]

He lets it hit him and doesn't flinch when it strikes, or when it drops to the floor.

'It's not the only thing.'

Which is as close to an admission as she's getting.

'There were more factors involved and you know it.'

[justcallmefee]

"Anything Michael Westen wants, Michael Westen gets."

She can't hit him with her fists, so she'll hit him with her words. Words that are now tinted with more than a little Irish fire now.

"Anything at all. He has the world at his fingertips." She steps back again, drawing an expansive arc through the air with her arm, the stack of bangles at her wrists jingling softly.

"Y'know, someday I'm gonna find someone here with a time machine. And I'm gonna go back to Dublin and make damn sure your priorities don't include me."

[still_burned]

'You don't mean that,' he says, quietly.

He hopes she doesn't anyway. Though he does wish, sometimes, he didn't want her as much as he does. Life would be so much less complicated. Less fun, but definitely easier.

[justcallmefee]

She just stares at him, cold fury bleeding off her tiny frame. It isn't often she scores a touch on him, so when she does, there's always a moment when she has to decide whether to back off or to press on.

After everything he's put her through in the last three sixty five? The decision is easy.

"Maybe I do."

[still_burned]

He shakes his head.

'No you don't.'

He's not sure. Just hopes. He wouldn't like to think of that time being erased - he really was happy with her, for a time. But that was part of the problem.

'You know you don't.'