The yellow glow of a lone street lamp filtered in through the window like a spotlight on a deserted stage, casting long, black shadows over the dusty crates. He had been in position too long. His legs had long since cramped up, feeling more like pincushions than actual limbs. Finally, he shut his eyes tight and decided to risk it. Slowly, silently, he reached down to his pocket and pulled out his watch, shifting it into the beam of light that danced with a thick cloud of dust.
He cursed. Two hours and still no one. No movement. Time was running short. If no one appeared, his hunch would be for nothing and he'd be branded an incompetent fool. Not only would he miss the event later, he would lose his chance to ask her to join him. He grimaced. It was a lost cause, he knew, but if he asked just once, then he'd be able to finally let sleeping dogs lie.
The pocket watch snapped shut, and Fitz winced at the noise. The light glinted off the timepiece's metallic backing, flashing across the room. His eyes followed, and suddenly his breath caught in his throat. There she was. Simply waiting patiently against the wall like she'd been there all day for him.
Fitz gulped and slowly stood from his hiding place. His slacks were covered in a film of dust that puffed out and immediately settled in the stale air when he brushed them off. He glanced cautiously around the old warehouse. Still no movement. No one else was there. Had he ever been this lucky?
Stepping toward her more boldly, his eyes roving eagerly up and down her frame, he took in more detail the closer he got. She really was a work of art. Her red lips were full with desire, slightly parted, the hint of a smile dancing at the corner of her mouth. One eyebrow was raised suggestively, daring him to come closer. He nearly stumbled past another stack of crates when he realised that she was wearing nothing but a translucent sheet. The swell of her chest strained against the fabric she clutched against her, an arm raised above her head, grasping at the wall in anticipation as he got nearer. Dark, glossy hair flowed over her shoulders, accentuating the fire in her eyes. He cleared his throat, and after another glance around the room to make sure they were alone, he reached out a tentative hand, inching closer and closer, almost frightened to touch despite her inviting smile.
At the last second, he withdrew his hand, crumpled it into a fist, and shoved it into his pocket. He shut his eyes and shook his head to clear it, then checked his watch again. This was no time to romanticize the moment. He took out his gloves, ever the professional, and moved some of the boxes aside for better access. He was glad he'd parked the car close by. The painting was much bigger than he'd anticipated.
Fitz burst through the office door to a smattering of triumphant applause. A few people stopped between their desks, tucking their papers under their arms, and he held his hands up to them, a hero, giving the office a dramatic bow. There were a few chuckles, but everyone quickly carried on with what they had been doing. A tall, dark man strolled up to him.
"There's the man of the hour!" Mack clapped slowly. "Only Leo Fitz could manage turning a routine stakeout into an art ring bust. You managed to find the painting that Ward guy tried to claim as stolen in the first place. The police will have a field day!"
"Please, it was nothing. Just another day's honest work." Fitz suppressed a grin as his friend slapped him on the back.
"Looks like you'll be able to join us for Trip's party after all then, eh, Turbo?"
"The thought crossed my mind." Fitz stood slightly taller. A dark-haired woman had just sauntered by in a dress that would have pulled his focus if he hadn't already been searching for her. She stopped when she saw him and blasted him with a dazzling smile. His heart did a quick tap-dance number.
"Congrats, Fitz; I heard you found the painting." The woman gave him a friendly pat on the arm.
"Of course." He adjusted his tie. Bolstered by his triumph, Fitz placed his hands on his hips and turned to face her. It was now or never. He'd waited long enough without saying anything, and tonight would be his moment. Mack caught his eye and shook his head, slipping smoothly away to give his friend some much needed privacy. Fitz cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Hey, so, uh, you wouldn't want to be my date tonight, would you?"
"Oh, what's tonight?" She sounded somewhat distracted, sorting through a pile of papers in her arms. Still, he would not be deterred.
"Trip's party. We've got a reservation at 8 at the Rainbow Room for the whole office."
"Oh right! I completely forgot." She smiled back up at him, and just caught his face starting to colour. She wrinkled her nose, her expression softening. "Tell you what, Fitz. I'll be your date tonight only if I get these files sorted in time. Care to give me a hand?"
"Files?" He stopped dead, his smile frozen in place. "Hold on. What are-" His features darkened dramatically. "This is Simmons, yeah?"
Daisy shrugged. "Who else?"
"I thought I told her to leave my files alone," he growled.
"Well, tell her again, because I'm stuck here until these files are put into the new system."
"Like bloody hell you are," Fitz snarled. He wheeled on the spot and marched down the hallway, a bulldog after a bone. He pounded on the closed office door, letting the sound of his fist reverberate down the hall, loud and clear as a calling card. Fitz was able to take a lot in stride, but even he had his limits. Simmons had gone too far. It was time for him to do something about the injustices that were piling upon his company. Take one for the team. Even if it meant dealing with the woman again.
"It's open," a deceptively cheery voice chimed from within the private office. He grunted and threw the door open, scowling. Simmons stood behind her desk sorting through papers. She glanced up. "Oh," she said, her smile fading instantly. "It's you. What do you want now?" She turned her attention back to her desk, and it made his rage boil again.
Jemma Simmons had only been with the company for six months, and already she'd turned the whole place upside down with her ridiculous 'progressive' ideas. It was shortly after the boss had decided to leave the whole company to his well-groomed son that she had been hired. Fitz harbored his own suspicions as to why the beautiful Miss Simmons had risen so high in the ranks of Distant Star so fast. Even that he'd be willing to overlook, though, if only she could leave him and his well-oiled process alone. Simply put, they did not get along.
"You've got Daisy sorting my files!" he accused.
"Yes," she said dismissively. "That can't be a shock. She is our secretary. Comes with the job description, doesn't it?"
" My files! You have Daisy sorting my files!" He stepped further into the room. "I thought we'd cleared this up already."
"No, Mr. Fitz," she said with a heavy sigh. "You only thought you'd cleared that matter up. What happened in reality was that you spoke, I disagreed, and you stormed off." She finally looked up from her papers and put her hands on her hips, as though this proved her entire point. "I have a job to do here, and I intend on completing it. You're the only person that seems to have a problem with my methods."
"But my files are-"
"-in a completely haphazard system." She looked down at him like she was explaining simple arithmetic. "They're hardly efficient and they're mostly incomplete. They-"
"-are in a perfectly logical system, thank you very much," he shot back. "It's just too advanced for you, is what the problem is." He stepped toward her, placing his hands on his hips, unconsciously mirroring her. "Ask me to find anything and I'll get it for you in an instant. Go on."
"That's not the point." She cocked her head as if speaking to a disagreeable child. "Each employee has to be able to access all files with the same level of efficiency-"
"So I'll give you my system and you make everybody else follow it," he inched forward, throwing an exasperated hand in the air.
She glared down her nose at him. "The system I am incorporating has been vetted by the top efficiency experts on the planet. It's simply not possible that your backwards sorting methods would even come close to the quality control that I've been hired to uphold at this company."
"What do we even need an efficiency expert here for? When the old man was in charge, everything worked just fine."
"Well, there is a reason Distant Star has slipped from the top five insurance companies-"
"-yeah, maybe putting Junior in charge-" Fitz scoffed.
Simmons pinned him to the spot with fierce eyes. "-There's an enormous amount of waste and duplication," she finished her statement, voice cold as ice.
"Okay," Fitz offered grudgingly. "But not in my department."
"There's not a single department that couldn't be run more efficiently or more economically," she countered. "I'm not even sure Distant Star wouldn't be better off not carrying an investigative division and just outsourcing each case privately."
Fitz felt his jaw all but drop to the floor. Smirking, Simmons brought a pile of papers over to the filing cabinet and opened the drawers with an expression that was far too pleased with herself. Fitz brought his hands up defensively as he searched for an alternate tactic, fumbling to recover. "Hold on. Hold on. I think we've got off on the wrong foot here," he said, wheeling around after her. "Why don't we start again?" He offered a hand to her, willing the tension to roll off his back. "I'm Leo Fitz, insurance investigator. Fantastic at his job. All-around great person." He spoke evenly and presented what he hoped was his most charming smile. "Now you tell me about yourself. You know: your hopes, your dreams."
She raised an eyebrow to his outstretched hand like it was a hunk of stale meat. "I'm not sure what you're trying to-"
He rolled his eyes, rapidly losing patience. "Are you married? Single? House full of angry cats?"
"Mr. Fitz, now you're just wasting my time." She pursed her lips, slammed the drawer, and turned on her heel, away from his increasingly heated expression. "Mr. Daniels hired me to streamline the office, and I'm going to. Simple as that." She picked up another pile of papers and carried them to a shelf on the other side of the room.
"And I don't think you know what you're talking about," he said through gritted teeth, following close behind. "I think you came in here like a steamroller with something to prove, and -"
"And you've felt threatened by me since the first day I got this job six months ago," she spat back, spinning to face him and lifting her chin defiantly, her face inches from his own. "Not only was I an efficiency expert and a challenge to your precious routine, but I'm smarter than you. I'm faster . I can see right through you. You're right to feel threatened by me."
" I am threatened by you ?" He lurched closer, scowling, his heart hammering like a war drum.
"Oh yes." She grinned coldly. "You're threatened by any woman who doesn't have a double-digit IQ."
Fitz opened his mouth to protest with a scathing string of cutting remarks - he was ready to unleash the full extent of his opinion of her - but of course, instead, the door to her office creaked open, loudly cutting him off before he could begin.
"You two know there's an awful lot of shouting going on. What seems to be the problem here?"
"Oh, Mr. Daniels," Simmons breathed and took a calming step back, brushing the hair out of her face. "Very sorry, sir; we were just discussing the new filing system." To her credit, Simmons looked embarrassed to be caught in another one of their confrontations. Fitz and Simmons were beginning to get a reputation.
"Ah, yes. We are very fortunate to have Miss Simmons to help with the transition since my father left me the company." Mr. Daniels whistled casually, meandering into the room. "I'm sure she'll have this place running like clockwork in no time at all!"
"Like rusty clockwork," Fitz muttered under his breath. Simmons shot him a look that would freeze a lesser man to ice where he stood.
"Oh, Mr. Daniels, I'll have that report for you first thing in the morning." Simmons smiled and moved back over to her desk, closer to Mr. Daniels. She shot a pointed look at Fitz, then the door.
"That's fine." Daniels stepped further into the room. Fitz crossed his arms and stood his ground. "Miss Simmons, are you coming with us to celebrate Antoine Triplett's birthday tonight?"
"No, I doubt it." She tittered too sweetly, lifting yet another pile of papers. "I'm up to my neck in work."
"Oh, why don't you come? It'll be fun. Trip is a great guy." Daniels rapped his knuckles lightly on the desktop, lingering just long enough.
Fitz looked between them from across the room, mouth hanging open in thinly-veiled disgust. He cleared his throat and their heads swiveled towards him in unison. "Simmons, tell me when my files are back. Unless you're too busy ." He smirked, then stormed out of her office.
"Careful when you leave," Simmons called after him. "Don't let the door hit you on the back on the way out and fracture your pelvis!" He waved a hand over his shoulder angrily, careful to present a certain finger in her direction as the door swung shut behind him.
"Well." Simmons huffed, slamming the pile of paper back onto her desk. "Most of the personnel here are very nice, anyways. The only one that gives me any real trouble is Fitz."
"Leo? He's cracked a lot of cases," Mr. Daniels noted. At the look of pure contempt on her face, he tried again. "Of course, I don't see how. He's such a drone. He gets his tips from street contacts like ex-cons and beggars."
"There's something about him I don't trust," she said, flipping absently through loose sheets of paper.
"Any examples?" Daniels stepped closer, putting a hand on the stack she was collecting.
"Many!" She threw her arms in the air and began to pace. "He's smarmy with those double-meaning wisecracks and immature office pranks. Who does he think he is? I mean, he's this arrogant, high-tempered man who's probably more lucky than good!"
"Sometimes it's better to be lucky," Daniels murmured, managing to wrap a hand around her waist to stop her from pacing past him again. "I think you're being too rough on him. It's more that he's just insecure than anything else."
"Well that's a surprise." She rolled her eyes, then smiled bashfully, finally realizing how close Daniels was.
He grabbed her hand, holding it tenderly. "Come tonight," he insisted. "It'll give us a chance to be together."
"Oh, darling. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that yet." Jemma bit her lip as he placed gentle kisses on her fingertips. "Everyone will be around. What if we slip up? They have to see me as a professional, not some skirt the boss chases."
"Then we'll be discreet," he said, sliding his lips further up her wrist. "Come tonight so we can-"
"So we can what?" She cupped his face in her hands, pulling it up to meet her gaze. "So we can eye each other and steal touches and play games in code?"
"Yes! That's part of the romance," he said with such a suave grin that it made her chuckle. He pulled her in tightly, wrapping her in his arms. "You know, someday we'll be able to look back and remember the time that whenever one of us brought up Paris, it meant at that we were dying to make love with one another."
"You're such an adolescent." She placed a hand on his chest and smiled fondly up at him.
"But a cute adolescent?" He leaned down and finally captured her lips as his prize.
When he slipped discretely out of her office, she was careful to count to a full hundred before making any movement. "Daisy?" She poked her head out of the doorway. "You're free to leave at any time. I think I'll actually be joining you tonight, after all."
The jazz was flowing and the drinks were steady. The office of Distant Star had one big table together off the centre of the Rainbow Room. Most of the staff were there, calling for more seats than they had originally booked. A waiter balanced a towering cake through the rowdy throng, wary not to alight any stray hats or coats with the big sparkler that teetered precariously on the top layer.
"Here's to Trip!" someone at the table cheered as the waiter placed the cake gingerly at the table, breathing a sigh of relief. "Insurance man, lover, amateur magician!" Everyone clapped as the man of the hour grinned widely and blew out the candles in one go. The waiter placed the serving knife on the table and made a quick escape to a less chaotic corner of the club.
"Trip, please, no card-tricks tonight, huh?" Mack laughed.
"Alright, alright. I'll leave those to the actual magician." Trip tucked his pack of playing cards deeper into his jacket pocket with a charming smile. "I'm excited to see this guy in person. I've only heard good things. Might pick his ear later if there's time." No one at the table had as great an affinity for magic as Trip. He was enamored by the tricks and trinkets employed in the magic act, and was grateful they had picked this spot for his party. "Now, while I have everyone's attention, I'd also like to make a toast to Fitz." Trip raised his glass, and everyone at the table followed suit. "Thanks to our man, the police have the stolen painting in their possession, and Distant Star beats yet another fraud insurance claim." Trip directed his speech towards the end of the table where Simmons sat, picking absently at her coaster with one finger. Fitz waved off the praise with a big grin and placed an arm around the back of Daisy's chair.
"Tell us," Daisy said, leaning in, "what gave you the idea to check out the warehouse?"
Fitz shifted to the edge of his chair, happy to indulge his captivated audience. "See, what I do is I like to put myself in the criminal's position," he explained. "I try and anticipate . What would he do next, what would his next move be? I think like him." Fitz slapped the table to make his point, then leaned back in his chair with a big grin. "You know, I'd hate to have me after me!" He chuckled along with the rest of the staff, basking in the attention. Simmons rolled her eyes, and her gaze landed across the table on Daniels. He took a sip of his drink and smiled secretively back at her.
"What are you thinking, Mr. Daniels?" the man to his left asked. "You look lost in reverie."
"Ah, sorry." He sat up. "I was just thinking about a column I read in the paper." He swirled the ice in his glass, letting it clink against the sides. "About all these Germans occupying Paris." His eyes slid over to her again, and Simmons straightened, still playing with the coaster.
"Fitz, you ever been to Paris?" Mack asked.
"No, and I don't intend to…" Fitz scowled, noticing the silent exchange between Simmons and Daniels.
It was at this point in the evening that the lights dimmed dramatically and the music swelled with a triumphant flare. A single spotlight flew to the centre of the room, a make-shift stage. The conductor's voice boomed through the microphone. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to present our main event for the evening… Please welcome to the stage, The Great Clairvoyant!"
The audience took their cue to applaud as a tall man with heavy eye makeup and a bejeweled turban appeared beneath the spotlight. He waved and bowed, a showman through and through.
"For my first act," the Clairvoyant spoke in a deep theatrical voice, "I will be demonstrating something called The Power of the Jade Monkey. " The audience gave polite gasps of awe as a burst of smoke erupted next to the man for effect. "For this act, I will need two victims -"He covered his mouth cheekily. "- Sorry, volunteers from the audience." He stepped towards Distant Star's table and looked over the staff one by one. Finally, like a panther identifying his prey, he stopped behind one chair.
"Sweetheart?" He offered a bejeweled hand to Simmons. When she realized he was speaking to her, she dropped her coaster into her bag and blushed deeply. At everyone's insistence, she stood and went with him, unable to see another way out of it.
Daisy nudged Fitz in the ribs and whispered, "You should go up there!" He looked around with a grin.
"Oh, go on Fitz!" Trip clapped, waving to the magician. "We've got another one over here! Go on! Represent us well, Fitz!"
Fitz stood and straightened his tie before following the Clairvoyant and Simmons to the spotlight. It felt much hotter up under the lights than he had expected. The entire club watched on. He almost immediately regretted his decision to go up.
Placing them side by side, the magician faced the room at large, then pulled a sparkling green trinket from his pocket. The music hushed ominously as the Great Clairvoyant began to weave his tale. "Many years ago, an emperor in China received as a gift this precious pendant," he explained dramatically to the audience. "A Jade Monkey." He held the sparkly pendant aloft for all to see. It was small, but a brilliant green gem sat in the monkey's belly, with glints of gold adorning its hands and tail. "It was said to possess extraordinary power. Power to darken the minds of men..."
Fitz squinted under the heavy lights, feeling how a frog must when it's about to be dissected in a lab. That last whiskey had probably been a mistake. He loosened his tie to combat the heat, and tried to tap the Clairvoyant on the shoulder. It took a few tries, as the tall man was setting the scene rather animatedly. Finally, he caught his attention. "I think I can't get hypnotized, actually," Fitz stage-whispered, attempting to inch out of the spotlight. "I'm not a very good subject." He caught the look that Simmons shot him, though, threatening him to stay where he was and not leave her alone up there, for goodness' sake. Chuckles rippled through the audience as the Clairvoyant turned his charming smile upon the pair. Fitz shut his mouth and stood his ground obediently.
"Let me assure you all that nothing can occur under hypnosis that a subject would not do in reality. Now," The magician held the pendant in front of Fitz first. "Eyes only on the Monkey please. Ears open only to the sound of my voice. Please, sir, sir , look at the Monkey." Fitz rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at the bauble, resigned to play along. It was nothing special. A rather ugly monkey made entirely of particularly shiny costume jewelry. Probably a knock-off. Not real. Not worth much. "The surrender of the mind… The surrender of the mind..."
After mere seconds, Fitz slumped forward, eyes distant and sleepy. The magician gave a knowing smile to the audience and moved over to Simmons. "They resist. And resist. But the Monkey likes resistance." The jade pendant swayed back and forth in front of her eyes. Simmons took a moment longer, but the same dazed look soon overcame her. The Clairvoyant gestured happily to the two, swaying as they stood half asleep, shoulder to shoulder. He moved back over to Fitz.
"What is your name, sir?"
"Leopold Fitz," he said in a slow, monotone voice. "But no one knows my full name. It's embarrassing. People call me Fitz." The crowd chuckled with glee.
"And what do you do, Mr. Fitz?"
"I'm an insurance investigator for Distant Star Casualty and Fidelity of New York," he said sleepily.
"Very good." The magician nodded, then turned to Simmons. "And what is your name, Miss?"
"Jemma Simmons. I also work for Distant Star." She spoke just as slowly and monotonously.
"So you work together?" the Clairvoyant asked, clearly pleased.
"I can't stand her," Fitz spat instantly. The crowd roared with laughter.
"Don't pay attention to him," Simmons countered drearily. "He's an arrogant megalomaniac who's frightened of women." The crowd was nearly in tears now as the two stood shoulder to shoulder, quietly swaying on the spot.
"Very interesting office dynamic here!" The Clairvoyant chuckled along with the audience. He stepped closer, dangling the Jade Monkey in front of their faces. "Now, you are at the first level of trance, but the Jade Monkey wants you to go to the deepest level." He looked to Fitz. "When I say the word Capuchin, you will instantly drop into the deepest hypnotic trance. All resistance will disappear." He moved behind Simmons. "When I say the word Marmoset , you will go immediately to the deepest level of hypnotic sleep, and you will obey all my orders." Fitz's head lolled to the side and Simmons' mouth drooped open in response.
The magician motioned dramatically. "Ready now: Capuchin . Marmoset . Mr. Leopold Fitz, and Miss Jemma Simmons. I now pronounce you man and wife!" The crowd cackled with laughter. Only Mr. Daniels looked nervous in his seat. "When I snap my fingers, you will awaken. You will not know that you are in a trance, but you will be madly in love with each other. You're on your honeymoon on a deserted island. The moon shines down its magical glow on the two of you. You're deeply, deeply in love. Ready? One, two, three- awaken to your tropical paradise."
The magician snapped his fingers and both Fitz and Simmons instantly opened their eyes. They turned towards each other with sheepish grins, like flowers finding the sun after a long night of rain.
"What are you thinking?" Simmons asked, gazing deeply up into his sparkling eyes.
"I'm thinking," he began, stepping toward her to hold her hands in his own, "that I'm the luckiest man in the world."
She smiled happily down at their intertwined hands. "The lucky one is me," she breathed.
"I was in love with you from the first moment that I saw you." He brushed a hand over her cheek, tipping her chin up to him.
"Oh, Fitz." She leaned into his touch. "Make love to me here under the stars, to the sound of the ocean!"
"Oh, Jemma!"
"I don't want to wait a moment longer than we have to!" she pleaded, and he pulled her into a deep, passionate embrace. Their lips pressed together and she swooned into his arms. The crowd whooped and clapped as the two passionately kissed with no idea there was anyone in the world but them.
"Stop. Enough." The Clairvoyant spoke, and the two broke apart on command, straightening. "Unfortunately, every dream must turn to reality." Fitz and Simmons faced the audience blankly, two planks of wood. "When I snap my fingers, you will awaken, and you will have no memory at all of this event. You will return to your regular lives as they exist, with whatever destinies await you. Let us all hope they are pleasant ones." He winked to the audience. "Are you ready to awaken on the snap of my fingers? One... You're beginning to come up. Two… the memory is fading completely. Three… the Jade Monkey has created the miracle of love, and four-" The Clairvoyant snapped loudly. "Awaken!"
They both jolted awake. Simmons smoothed out her skirt uncomfortably, looking around. Fitz blinked.
"And how do you feel?" the Clairvoyant asked Fitz jovially.
"Still waiting for something to happen." Fitz shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. The magician grinned and turned to Simmons.
"How do you feel, Miss?"
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm not a very good subject." She brushed the hair out of her face, hoping to get off the stage before something embarrassing happened.
"No, me neither," Fitz piped up. "I warned you this wouldn't work."
"Ah, well, I tried my best!" The Clairvoyant shrugged helplessly to the roaring applause of the audience.
"Trip, back me up." Mack laughed, bringing the plate of hot fries over to their table. Most of the office had gone their separate ways already, leaving only the four of them from Distant Star at the end of the night. The music played lazily in the background, and one or two odd couples swayed drunkenly on the floor. "Fitz, you gazed deeply into her eyes and you told her you loved her."
"Mad!" Fitz shook his head, pocketing his coaster. "I would never do such a thing! This is a conspiracy to make me appear mad!"
"I hope somebody talks to me like that someday." Daisy wistfully eyed her empty glass of tequila.
"Speaking of which - Girl, shouldn't you be getting home to feed your dog or something?" Trip nudged Fitz with meaning.
"But I can't bear Simmons!" Fitz mournfully cradled his head with one hand, the other clutching yet another glass of Scotch. He was clearly not paying attention to what anyone else was saying.
"Uh huh." They all stared as he began thudding his head against the table, then lifted his Scotch glass to his lips for a long draught.
"What?" He caught their looks of poorly-hidden amusement as he came up for air.
"Take this cab fare on me." Trip winked at Daisy. "I think it might be the better option tonight."
"Good night, Will." Simmons folded her hands in her lap, having removed her seatbelt as he parked in front of her building.
"Good night, baby." He leaned over to go in for the kiss that would finally start the evening he'd been waiting far longer for than he normally would. One look from her, though, and he gripped the steering wheel instead, to suppress his frustration. He decided to shake it off and see if she was just playing hard to get. "I knew we'd get a little time alone tonight if you came along," he said, keeping his eyes soft.
"I'm glad I came." She smiled sweetly.
"And it wasn't obvious that we're together. You had no reason to be worried. No one suspected a thing." She didn't miss the slight frown that flashed across his face as he said this.
"Like I said, I'm glad I came." She paused for a moment to show her sincerity, then reached for the door handle.
"You don't need any help getting upstairs, do you?" he tried again, moving into her space . "I can-"
"-no, that's okay," she said quickly. "We have an early day tomorrow and I think I'm getting a cold. I just want to go home, have a tea and get some rest."
"You know, if you're getting a cold, someone should rub your chest down with Vicks." He grinned slyly.
She laughed. "Does that work with all the ladies?"
"I don't know. You tell me." He pouted, shifting closer once again.
Jemma rolled her eyes up to the roof of the car with a grin then planted a sound kiss on his mouth. He leaned closer, reaching out to draw her in. She pulled back, opening the car door as she did and sliding out smoothly.
"Hmm… If anyone's going to be rubbing my chest down with Vicks, he better bring a ring." She smirked coyly, and closed the door behind her.
"Oh, baby!" Will panted. "You tease too well!"
"Who's teasing? Good night, Will." She waved fondly as he stared after her. He then started the car with a growl and drove off down the dark street in a cloud of smoke.
Simmons dropped her hand to her chin and touched her lips absently. Realizing she was still smiling, she mentally shook herself and reached into her bag for her keys.
Fitz entered his apartment, still in a huff, and threw his jacket onto the patchy armchair. He glanced over at the liquor cabinet and briefly considered having another night-cap. Alone. He paced into the bedroom. After a beat, he stepped right back out to stare down the cabinet again. The telephone rang.
He grumbled noisily as he undid his tie and strode into the foyer where the phone was. Who could possibly be calling at this ungodly hour?
"Hello?" he barked into the receiver.
"Capuchin."
Fitz' eyelids immediately grew heavy and he swayed on the spot. The voice on the other line was so soothing and pleasant.
"You are in a deep trance. You will obey my instructions carefully. You will proceed to the Johnson estate and obtain all of the jewels from their safe. You will do this with the utmost secrecy, using all the information and techniques at your command. Then you will return to your apartment with the jewels. You will hide them in a safe and secure place, awaiting further instructions. You will then fall into a deep slumber from which you will awaken refreshed. You will have no memory of anything that has occurred during the trance. Is that clear to you?"
"Very clear."
"Then go now. The Jade Monkey commands it."