"Dammit, Helena, a little help here?" the agent hissed as she yanked on the belt of her trench coat, which was stuck in the teeth of two interlocking steps near the top of the hotel escalator.

Helena, who'd darted ahead, returned, cheeks flushed with more than exertion, and gently pushed past grumbling passersby. Chuckling, she gave the emergency stop button a playful push.

"My apologies, please excuse us," Helena said with an easy smile to an older couple, who continued on, bemused. She tossed her silky raven hair to one side and surveyed the spectacle with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Said spectacle merely involved one Myka Bering, dressed in a rather expensive beige coat and black heels (and heavens, how Helena loved those heels, because who wouldn't love linking arms-and more-with a modern Amazon?).

Myka was thoroughly unimpressed with the situation. "You do realize-" she started but quickly lowered her voice as another couple staggered past her, "-you do realize I'm stuck, on an escalator in a hotel on a weeknight, and that this jacket is the only article of clothing I'm wearing, which I might add, was entirely your idea?"

"Not entirely," Helena countered with a clever smile. "You seemed quite keen on the roleplaying bit. You look rather ravishing with a martini in hand, you know."

"Well, if you hadn't been so keen to get up to our room-ahem," Myka coughed, as an older gentleman plodded past, his cane thunking with every step. Silently fuming, she watched him go through a curtain of mussed dark curls.

HG laughed, quieter this time. "Allow me, darling. It is Valentine's Day, after all." Taking advantage of the momentary pause in foot traffic, she slipped off her own coat, which was long and black and full of, well, secrets, and carefully draped it around Myka's shoulders.

Myka's eyes widened. "What're you doing?"

"Just follow my lead, darling. Remove your jacket."

Myka's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "This is the most-I can't believe-"

"You can stand here all night, Myka. Sooner or later, someone else will suggest the same thing, but without my brilliant exit strategy," Helena said, leaning in to whisper in Myka's ear.

With a sigh that was equal parts indignation and resignation, Myka leaned in closer, her bare chest now pressed against Helena's, and quickly slipped her arms into the jacket. One frenzied heart pounded against another.

"Pete will not hear a single word. About any of this. Ever." Myka raised an eyebrow in warning and she hastily fastened the coat's belt around her waist. The longer she gazed at the woman who'd just saved her from a public indecency fine, though, the more the corner of her mouth twitched.

Helena inclined her head in thoughtful consideration. "Not a bad start though, hm?"

Together, they eyed the abandoned jacket lying in a heap on the escalator. They continued onward, past the bar and a row of slack-jawed onlookers, and Myka fought the urge to laugh. "Where'd you learn to do that anyway?"