If the other day was full of everything that didn't make sense, then the next was the definition of normality. Vodka woke up normally, to the sound of his alarm clock at 7:05 AM. Had his normal breakfast, a cup of coffee with a piece of toast. Set off to do his normal job, engaging in all sorts of illegal activity. It was always easy to push personal matters out of one's thoughts while running around blackmailing people. But, at the end of every workday, everything came rushing back in full force. Not to mention the fatigue, the kind that makes your mind also disconnect from your body. It leaves you in a space between realities. Of course, the state Vodka was in was due to not eating anything on the healthier side of the spectrum. Combined with the past week of not going to bed before midnight, things weren't going well for him. But, that was his normal.

After a boring and long day of business, he was ready to drop. The past night had exhausted him to a point of an extreme. Too bad there's no such sleeping pill that worked for when you're awake, he thought, glancing out at the passing scenery. Although I'm sure some genius probably already made it. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a puff of air. It wasn't so much as a weight was being pressed on him, but more like he was being stretched like a piece of taffy. Vodka, for one, didn't want to be there when his mind snapped.

As the drive lengthened, with the air of silence present when Gin drove, Vodka began to realize where they were going. More lights began to pierce the dark night, while the sound of chattering people, going to their next bar, wafted by. The area was home to one of the restaurants that the Organization used to hold meetings. It's what made them different from the regular sort of thugs. Those people met in bars, out in the open, mingling with the innocent public. They had entire dining rooms clear out for a measly exchange of information. Just as much as it's impressive, it's always terrifying. As always, when the car was parked, when they exited the car and entered the restaurant, Vodka's thoughts melted away. Whenever it was time for business, he put his personal life on hold. Even when they were schmoozing with the richest people in the city, trying to get funding, he couldn't focus on anything but the job. It got him this far, so it should get him farther.

Slipping into the hushed environment, Vodka studied the surroundings. There was the table he sat in when he got his job, the chair by the bar when he saw that bartender with the great arms and…Vermouth. Sitting across from an attractive man, and apparently also arguing with him. As Gin finished smoking a cigarette, Vodka watched as the man tossed up his hands. Clearly done with the conservation, he went across the room, to sit with what appeared to be his friends.

"Deal with her," Gin ordered, disposing of his spent cigarette. "I'll get you if I need you." Without waiting for a form of acknowledgement, Gin strolled off to the "Employee Only" door in the far corner. Once he took off his coat, folding it over his arm, Vodka set off for where Vermouth now sat alone.

He just got comfortable in his seat, arranging the coat on the back of his chair, and setting his hat on the table, when a waiter appeared. He slid a plate of pasta in front of Vermouth and asked if she wished to have another drink.

"Whatever whiskey is on your top shelf," She snapped, rubbing her temples. The waiter nodded, clearly not fazed about her attitude.

"Anything for yourself, sir?" The waiter asked Vodka, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. After Vodka asked for a glass of ice water, he simply nodded again and walked off.

As he smoothed out a wrinkle in the tablecloth, Vodka looked carefully at his dining partner. He didn't know much about Vermouth and had little motivation to learn more. It was clear that she wasn't the easiest to get along with, what with her strong personality. She didn't exactly give off a warm aura. He wondered how the meeting in the back was going. He couldn't remember why this meeting was important, which most likely is why he wasn't invited to said meeting. Things were getting more complicated by the day. He focused on Vermouth.

"What do you want?" She asked, still looking across the room, fixated on her former dinner date. "I have no need for a lap dog tonight."

"Why are you here?" Vodka didn't want to waste his time here. Better to cut to the chase. "For that matter, who is that man?"

Their conversation lulled, by the return of the waiter. He delivered their beverages, and a steaming plate of shrimp pasta, before making a swift exit. The tense atmosphere got a little easier to take, with the appetising smell of garlic filling the table. Vodka could feel his resolve melting away. The day was long. His hunger was great. Unfortunately, Vermouth, excellent in her field, noted the change in his attitude.

"I'll make a deal with you," She drawled, swirling the whiskey in her glass. "I'll let you have my dinner, and you're not going to expect an answer to your questions."

The deal was clearly rotten if you were looking in on the deal as an outsider. Vodka did not have this luxury. It was ten o'clock at night, he hadn't eaten for hours, and, well, he liked shrimp. So, after he gave a nod and after a smirk from Vermouth, Vodka pulled the plate towards his end of the table.

Vermouth waited, politely, five minutes before asking her own questions. "How're those preparations going?" She asked, pretending not to care. This was one of her many skills. She used it often, making it one of her favourite tricks. "Everything going…according to plan?"

After a sip of his water, Vodka shrugged. "If we have a plan, I don't know enough about it to tell you anything. Why are you so interested?"

"No reason," Vermouth set her drink down and twisted a ring around her finger. "Maybe I'm just deeply concerned about the success rate of this mission. It's difficult you know. Mingling in high society isn't exactly a cakewalk."

"For you, maybe. I've had my fair share of experience in that field."

Vermouth couldn't help but roll her eyes at the comment. "Sure you have. I'll believe it when I see it."

Setting his fork down, Vodka glanced up. His expression was still unreadable from behind his sunglasses, but Vermouth got the sense that he was confused. "Do you mean you're going to be there?"

"Wasn't that in your case file?" Vermouth took a gulp of her drink and then shook her head. "Human Resources. They're getting lazier by the day." She was lying through her teeth now; she didn't mean that to slip.

"Why do I need to even go then?" He demanded, folding his napkin into a triangle. "What's the point? You two are fine together."

"It's a matter of…" She trailed off, feeling oddly hesitant, although she knew what to say. "It's a matter of loyalty."

"Loyalty. That exists here?" After the remark, Vodka sighed, putting the napkin on the table. He was going too far into it. Losing his composure would do him nothing but harm. It wasn't worth it. Not after he got this far.

Vermouth waited again, another couple of minutes. When it was clear he wasn't saying anything else, she leaned in a bit, ready to say her piece. "Listen," Her voice was softer than before, her edges smoothed out. "I don't think you understand the magnitude behind this assignment. This could, possibly, change everything for you."

To match her, Vodka leaned in slightly to say his reply. His voice, however, still was rough, as it always was. "I can manage my own assignments. You do not have to feel sorry for me."

Before Vermouth could even begin to formulate some sort of response, the back room door opened. The meeting was over, and her time was up. "We're not done with this conversation," She hissed, then flounced her way to the restroom.

Vodka just wanted a moment to process all of this, and maybe finish his pasta, which was actually quite delicious. However, as things move quickly in his area of business, he was rushed out the door as soon as Gin approached the table. Before long, he was driving home, trying to keep his eyes open. They were only ten minutes away from their apartment when Gin began to speak.

"Did you get anything on why Vermouth was there?"

"Yeah, she was just being a bitch. Using her work connections for her dating life." It wasn't exactly a lie. He was pretty sure that was what she did…although he couldn't be exactly sure. "Did I miss anything at the meeting?"

"No. It was about the preliminaries for next quarter. I'll give you the files to look over."

"Roger that."

They were silent for the rest of the ride. And silent for the walk up to their apartment. And still silent when they both retreated into their rooms for some sleep.

It was a quiet night.

"Ya know, when I started here, I really didn't think there would be this much paperwork," Champagne griped, dropping another stack of folders on their desk. "Yeah, I need some fresh air."

Even as they left the room, Vodka didn't look up from his own work. Champagne was…only a mild annoyance. If they shut up for five minutes, it wouldn't be too bad. They had a point though; end of quarter paperwork was always a rough couple of days. Even the ones with the strongest willpower found themselves drooping after a few hours. Offices were full of people either updating and filing their old case files or trying to figure how to go about the company's budget. The science department too, they had to figure out what projects were worth continuing, and what equipment needed to be replaced. In a weird way, it was just like a regular business.

"What was the name of the man we killed on February 16th?" Gin asked, glancing up from his computer.

Vodka flipped through his files and answered, "Depends. There was Amatore Ungaretti in the mountains, and Youta Cremaschi in the forest." There wasn't a reply to the information, just the sound of a keyboard clicking. Even if was a good day, which it certainly was not, there wouldn't be a form of thanks.

People often came in and out of the room, simply because it was one of the more convenient locations. Filled with about a dozen desks, computers, and a wall of filing cabinets, the room was a central hub. The coffee pot in the corner was also popular. Private offices did exist, but Gin always seemed to avoid those and favoured those in a group setting. If it was for the company, he sure didn't express it. However, his stress was awfully visible. Vodka kept the paper files in reasonably decent shape, but Gin was ultimately in charge with handling the information. First, the files had to be transferred to a digital format, then the information had to be checked to be sure it was accurate, and then a conclusion of each assignment had to be written. Given Gin's clear memory issues, the task was not an easy one. They've been at it for a good two and a half hours now, and they were still only halfway through February. At least they could be a little more casual. By that, their hats were off, Gin's hair was tied back, and their shirtsleeves were pushed up.

The person fiddling with the coffeepot finally gave up and left. It was then that Vodka realized that they were left alone. The fact, which should have been common knowledge, made his heart beat a touch faster. Deciding it was probably just from lack of sleep, he started to read the next file on his desk. But then he had to remember why he didn't sleep much last night. His brain seemed to be trying to connect pieces of a puzzle.

After he got to bed, he couldn't stop his brain from replaying the events in the restaurant. Why was Vermouth suddenly so interested in him? What made this job so special? Lastly, why on Earth was she going to even be there with them? Two agents together was a risky move, but three was almost unheard of. He couldn't shake the nagging concern that maybe, maybe, something was feeling wrong. Gin was being too jumpy for such a simple job, Vermouth was close to being blatant about something he didn't want to hear about sexuality, and his own thoughts were getting more mixed up by the minute. At one given moment, he was fine with everything, and things were okay. The next, everything came crashing down. His anxiety about fitting in with his co-workers. The latest job and the acting it would require. Pretending that he was okay with everything he did. And then, Vodka was seriously thinking that he was-

"Whew, it's really windy out there!" Champagne entered the room, looking refreshed. "Sunny too." They dropped into their seat and started to examine a file.

The interruption, thankfully, startled Vodka out of his thoughts. He checked over his latest work and gathered up a bundle of files. "I need to pick up some things for the week. I'll be back soon." Without waiting around to see the consequences of his abrupt action, Vodka grabbed his outwear and left.

Such a sudden action wasn't entirely infrequent for the pair, so Vodka thought nothing of it. Vodka used to think that he knew Gin, as much as he could possibly manage. Given their history together, and factoring in their own working environment, sudden movements weren't considered that uncommon. Besides, they needed some groceries, thanks for it being the end of quarter. The more stress they were under, the less Gin wanted to go out. He never wanted to go out, to be honest, so the trend could also just be a series of coincidences.

"Whatever," Vodka muttered to himself, went down two flights of stairs, and put on both his jacket and his hat. "I just need some fresh air, that's all. Everythin' alright."

"You sure about that?"

Vodka just hit the last step, when that phrase was said and came very close to slipping on that last stair. Thankfully he caught himself. Clutching the handrail, while also willing his heart rate to slow, he glared at the unexpected visitor. "What is it to you?"

The stranger, a woman with her hair in a loose ponytail, put her hands up in a mocking gesture. "Whoa, you sure are jumpy today. I was just coming up from the garage to get a drink. You heading down there?"

Now safely on the floor, Vodka studied the woman a bit more closely. She looked like anyone else at their company; a little rough around the edges, tired yet alert eyes. Her hair seemed pretty thick, a dark auburn colour, tied into a ponytail. There also was a noticeable feature of her right leg; a delicate rose gold prosthetic.

She noticed that the lack of a reply probably stemmed from her leg, so pulled her skirt up slightly, for a better look. "It's a beaut, isn't it? Got it fitted last week."

"Yeah, it looks pretty…sturdy. Do I know you?"

"I would hope so, you've seen me like, every week," When that got nothing but blank stares, she sighed. "I'm Marissa? Marissa Blanchett? I work down at the garage?"

As he studied her again, Vodka finally remembered. She was, indeed, the person he saw whenever he had to sign out a car. "Right," He said slowly, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Luckily he didn't have to.

"Eh, it's okay," Marissa shrugged with a smile. "Not many people remember me. Did you need a car, by chance?"

He just managed to stammer out a yes to the question, making Marissa's smile turn into a grin. "Great!" She said, gesturing to the hallway. "Just let me grab a drink and I'll be down there in a second. Unless you want to come with."

Usually, Vodka would have refused. But, given the fact that alone time equalled thinking time and thinking time was not a good time at the moment, he felt like it would be better just to go with her. As an added note, he was actually pretty thirsty himself. So, they took a detour to a break room.

"Thank God," Vodka muttered to himself, upon finding the room empty. One talking partner was enough for him. Marissa gave him a side glance as she looked through the fridge, but got him a bottle of water anyway.

Sitting on the counter, Marissa's eyes lit up. "Hey, want to see something neat?" She didn't bother waiting for an answer before setting down her water and pushing a small button on her right ankle. A small compartment opened, revealing a tiny, but very sharp, dagger. She pulled it out and spun it with a surprising amount of skill.

"Handy, isn't it?" She patted her leg fondly, still spinning her knife. "I'm glad that Doc let me have a knife hole, I've always wanted one."

"Isn't it more of a compartment?" Vodka asked, keeping an eye on that knife. "It has a door on it."

"Okay, but consider how freakin' cool 'knife hole' sounds." They fell into a silence after that remark, and just drank their water. Marissa put her knife away when she was finished with her water, and soon after, they headed out.

As far as walks to the building's basement go, this one wasn't all that bad. It was for sure better than that time he attempted going down the stairs in the dark. He broke his nose that time around. However, today, the lights were on, and there wasn't any oil spilt on the stairs, so they were safe.

"Well, here it is," Marissa gestured to the door to the garage as she unlocked it. "I think your usual is still here, the VW-Porsche 91, right?"

The door now unlocked, Marissa flipped on the lights and went to her office. It really was just a counter with the sign out clipboard, with a desk, board of keys, and some filing cabinets in the space behind it. Aside from that, the cavernous parking garage was full of automobiles, ranging from common to rare, depending on the mission, or the driver's mood. Vodka liked using the 91, simply because of its history. He used in a case one time, and although that…could have turned out better, he got sorta attached.

"You better not crash this," Marissa's eyes twinkled a bit as she both held in a laugh and gave him the sign-out sheet. "I heard what happened to that attack helicopter."

"Hey, that wasn't my fault! That time at least."

"Sure. Just get it back to me in one piece, please. What do you need it for, anyway?" She asked her question over her shoulder, as she got the keys. She leaned on the counter when she came back. "Are you going to murder someone? Do a shady deal? Talk in code?"

Vodka finished his signature, handed over the clipboard, and got his keys. "It's just an important errand, no big deal."

"You guys get all the fun, I swear," Marissa griped, flipping through her clipboard. "Try to be back within three hours okay? Other people might want that one, and trust me, you guys can get very grumpy when the car you want isn't there. Dealing with that is not the best part of my job. Let me just check to make sure there's no rats in there. It happened. More than once."

When they reached 91, in spot B21, Vodka let Marissa take the keys and check the car over. "Alright," She said after a quick search. "You should be rat free. There's some reusable bags in the glove department, and for the love of God, be careful with any bloody bodies, the stains are a nightmare. See you in three hours!" With her final remarks and a cheery wave, she started walking back to her office.

Feeling more than slightly bewildered from the past ten minutes, Vodka got into the car, and after checking once more for any rats, headed out. Once he entered the streets of the city, he relaxed. He was in the car, in control, and he knew what he was doing. Although he thought the drive would help soothe his nerves, it turned into the opposite, rather quickly.

Something, or rather, someone's actions just kept nagging at him; Vermouth. She wasn't all that close to Vodka, but recently it seemed as though he was developing a strong interest, almost an amusement, towards him. All that also seemed primarily due to their latest mission. Which was just yet another thing that didn't make much sense. Recruitment missions, however important, aren't considered to have such a high status among mission types. Considering that Gin, and himself for that matter, were not an overwhelming charismatic force, there was no reason why they should be assigned for this. The event itself was also simply too public to be relatively useful. Were they supposed to put their target off guard so she would say yes to get them off her case? Why did they even need a physicist? Didn't they already have a ton of chemists? Or were they biologists…was there a difference?

He was getting a little distracted.

Focusing on the road, he noted that he just hit the halfway spot to the grocery store. Twenty minutes there from work, from there to home was fifteen minutes, and he usually went the route home to work via the twenty minute way, but that has been under construction for some time, so he had to get back via the grocery store route. That way was ten minutes longer, but if he hurried the shopping, he would get back under the three hour time mark. Which should be handy because they still had about two months worth of cases to get through.

Vodka pulled into the grocery store's parking lot with ease. As he was technically in charge of maintaining their household life, it was commonplace for him. Although they didn't shop daily, they have been getting better about keeping more food in the kitchen. Bread and protein bars were not the bulk of their meals any more. They still ate out a fair bit, thanks to meetings and stakeouts, but their meals at home were getting better.

That night Vodka figured that he could manage to make some fried rice, with tofu and vegetables. They still had some rice, but they were running low on the other ingredients. He got some leeks, carrots, and a variety of seaweed from the vegetable section. Gin didn't seem to mind his cooking, so Vodka figured that was a good sign. He didn't normally burn down the kitchen at least, which was for certain, a good sign.

While he got some tofu, Vodka found his thoughts latching onto the subject of his partner. He cared for Gin, that was true, but he always had. What Vermouth suggested, however, or at least what Vodka thought she suggested in an extremely indirect way, had no grounding. Sure, of course, Vodka wanted Gin to be as happy as he could be, it's natural. They lived together, spent almost all their time together, and had countless assignments with each other. Their relationship changed and developed over time, yes, and now they were indeed rather warm sometimes with each other. But all that did not mean that Vodka would ever want to date-

No.

That single thought cut his train of thought off directly. His mind went blank, as it did once, back when he still considered himself a rookie. It worked back then, but lately, it seemed like his emotions were combating it. He squeezed the handles of his basket tightly. He couldn't retreat back into the past, that was a fact he couldn't ignore anymore, but. That didn't mean that he had to accept what he had been wondering. He always prided himself on developing his potential to be detailed orientated. For the past couple of months, he had started to notice little things. Small gestures of kindness Gin gave him during their missions. No compliments, but there were fewer of Gin's famous cold eye stares…the progress that had not been made before. His knuckles were turning white from his grip. Forcing himself to calm down, Vodka finished his shopping, paid, bagged his items, and headed home to put them away.

It took him until he got home to finally unclench his jaw, take a deep breath, and relax. He managed to get all the bags up in one go (using the elevator this time; what Gin didn't know and what couldn't get back to him wouldn't hurt him) and also got the door open without setting any of the bags on the floor. "It's the small victories, I guess." He muttered to himself, putting the bags on the counter.

Making a mental note to eat some lunch, Vodka started putting things away, taking care to leave the ingredients he needed for dinner on the side. To distract himself from his other thoughts, he began to mentally go through their cases from the past month. It worked both as a distraction and as helpful practice for the work ahead.

As he was trying to remember if they made a deal with Kaiti Spiros or her half-sister, Efthalia Stefanidis, he noticed the time. Quickly shoving yet another jar of instant coffee in the cupboard, Vodka grabbed his keys and headed out. As he started down the stairs, something began to nag at him. He forgot something, but he couldn't remember what. In any case, he didn't have time to wonder about it. He still had an hour and five minutes to get back, but being early still beat out being late. In this case anyway.

Vodka got about halfway to the grocery store when he realized one of his paper cuts started to bleed. That, in turn, reminded him that they were nearly out of a lot of their medical supplies. Taking a glance at his watch, Vodka decided the detour would be worth the risk. Five minutes later, he pulled into another parking lot, in front of a modest drugstore, which he recalled happened to be in the area.

Given that it wasn't exactly a prime time to go shopping for various medical and cosmetic needs, the store had little customers. As you entered, there was a long counter with the cashier, with the back wall also hosting the door to the back storage room along with various offices. Aisles lined the centre of the large space, and on the wall opposite the door held the pharmacy, which in turn had a counter along the wall with various over the counter prescriptions…and an extremely bored looking pharmacist.

Getting a basket for his shopping needs, Vodka glanced at his watch. He couldn't spend a lot of time here, given that he did honestly want to get back to work relatively quickly, but it had to be done at some point. He retrieved various odds and ends from their respective aisles, including bandages, gauze, medical tape, tampons, mouthwash, soap, and toothpaste. While he was going about his shopping business, the remaining customers all slowly paid for their purchases, and then left. As soon as the last customer exited the store, the cashier disappeared into the back room. After weighing his options, and also analyzing the situation, Vodka decided to look around the store until the cashier got back.

While the plan seemed to be the best one given the situation and options available…it got boring easily. As he stood, a bit awkwardly, looking at a display of perfume, Vodka felt that someone joined him in the aisle. Shifting his gaze to the left, while not moving his head, he noticed that the pharmacist stood to his left, also looking at the perfume display.

"Any chance I could help you?" The pharmacist said, sounding hopeful, giving Vodka a smile. "I could ring you up if you wanted to, or I could help you find something."

"I think I have everything, so if I could just pay-" Vodka stopped himself when he saw the pharmacist looking at him a bit too closely. Heat rose on his face as he snapped, "What's the matter with you?"

Putting his hands up in apology, the pharmacist winced. "Sorry! I just wondered about your sunglasses."

"What about them."

"Well, it's overcast. Either you're some sort of spy or whatever, or you have some sort of eye issue. And given that I'm a reasonable man, I would like to believe it's the second option. And also given that I'm involved with medicine, I would like to try and fix it if I could."

Vodka found it his turn to stare at his conversation partner. He dealt with numerous people who dealt with the trade of charisma and persuasion, and he had to admit this random pharmacist came close to joining those ranks. He's confident, Vodka thought, still studying. He has a kind of fire in him. For some reason, Vodka got reminded of Gin, which then started to make his heart race a little.

"Well?" The pharmacist unknowingly interrupted. "Want to give me an answer?"

"I do have some trouble with them," Vodka admitted. "They burn when they see bright lights and stuff like that. My…co-worker said I should use some kinda eye drops to fix it."

Gesturing for Vodka to follow him, the pharmacist led the way to his counter. "Your co-worker is technically right. Eye drops are a good solution but are also a temporary one." Going behind his counter the pharmacist looked on the shelves of his station. "Your problem is due to your eyes drying out quickly, so I would recommend lubricating eye drops, known as artificial tears. I use them actually."

After fishing around in his pocket, the pharmacist pulled out a small dropper bottle. "These are pretty easy to use because you can just use them whenever you think you should." He picked up the bottle, and after removing the cap started to demonstrate. "You should wash your hands before you do this, just to be safe. You just pull down your lower eyelid, lower the bottle down while being careful not to touch the eyelashes, and squeeze out one drop. You close the eye and then open. Some leakage may occur, but that's normal, and can be simply wiped away with a tissue."

"So!" The pharmacist washed his hands again, afterwards then pocketing his bottle. "Interested in testing the product?"

Vodka snuck a look at his watch and winced. It's been close to twenty minutes in the store, and his timeframe was getting a little squashed. "I'll just take a box. I…have to get back to work." Vodka still couldn't manage lying easily, unlike his comrades, so luckily he could tell the truth this time.

"Oh! Oh, sure, I can check you ou- I mean, I could ring you u-" The pharmacist seemed to be a little flustered but soon laughed it off. "Sorry. Slow day. I can meet you at the cash register, I just need to find you the product."

With a nod, Vodka headed back to the front of the store. The pharmacist didn't take long getting the eye drops, worked quickly, and thankfully did not bother making any comments about the contents of his basket. As he gave Vodka change, the pharmacist smiled. "The expiration date for that brand is four months. So, unless you empty it before then, I'll be seeing you in about August."

Muttering some sort of polite goodbye, Vodka grabbed his bag of his purchases, walked quickly to the car and drove away. He spent the rest of the trip to work switching from cursing himself of wasting so much time to worrying about being late to cursing himself of his stupid emotions that kept influencing his thoughts. It wasn't the most relaxing drive of his life.

Due to his time management, or rather the lack of his time management, Vodka entered the garage four minutes after the time limit. To make matters worse, Marissa was dealing with a line of annoyed clients, and Vodka wasn't able to conjure the mood for pulling rank on them. So, he waited, anxiously checking his watch every minute.

"Finally," Marissa rolled her eyes as the last person exited. "I thought they would never leave. How was your-"

"I don't have time for this right now," Vodka slapped the keys onto the counter, and rapidly signed that he had returned. Without another word, he grabbed his bag from the drugstore and ran for it. Marissa watched him go, and sighed, rolling her eyes again.

Vodka burst open the stairwell door to the second floor, effectively startling the intern that stood behind the door. Usually, Vodka would probably have helped him pick up his papers and folders, which fell to the floor. It wasn't a normal day, and so, Vodka barely mumbled an apology as he hurried past. He hated being late. Especially when he happened to be late while meeting Gin.

Pressing himself up against the wall beside the open door to the group office, Vodka tried to control his breathing. He really wished he had some time to hide the bag from the drugstore but the situation couldn't manage any time for such actions. Taking one more deep breath, Vodka walked in. Nodding to Gin as though nothing happened, Vodka sat in his chair, put his bag on the ground, and took off his jacket, along with his hat.

"So," He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "How many reports do we have left to do-"

"Do you have the time?" Gin interrupted, lighting a cigarette, while also delivering quite the cold stare.

Vodka glanced at his watch before answering, "Sure, it's half pas-"

"Oh, so your watch is working." Walking over to the filing cabinet now, Gin started to smoke. He didn't say anything else until he slapped a stack of reports on Vodka's desk. "I was wondering about that."

Ignoring the not so subtle dig, Vodka turned on his computer. Flipping open the first file, he clicked over to that case in their shared folder and started to type in the case's information. Satisfied, Gin returned to his own seat, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke behind him.

As Vodka got back to work, he noticed that his stomach didn't appear to be exactly happy with him. With an internal groan, Vodka remembered what he forgot to do at home; he didn't eat lunch. The next couple of hours were not the best of the day. Gin did leave to use the restroom at one point, so he was able to quickly scarf down one of the protein bars by the coffeepot. However, by the end of their day, Vodka wasn't exactly feeling nourished. As Vodka started to leave, he realized he left the bag by his desk. Turning back, he saw Gin pick it up.

"We…needed some stuff. I stopped by a drugstore on the way back," Vodka wasn't surprised when Gin merely brushed past him, pushing the bag into his arms. Letting his partner go ahead of him slightly on the stairs, Vodka studied the situation.

It seemed clear that Gin was pissed off; although he was acting as distant as he always acting, underneath the act, Vodka could detect a malicious tone that normally wasn't there. Learning from his previous encounters with this type of mood, Vodka chose to back off. As a side effect from this, the drive home turned out to be a quiet one. Gin drove.

Just like before, Vodka took his time leaving the garage, allowing Gin to get a head start, before heading up the stairs himself. Just as he predicted, Gin was long gone when he entered the apartment. Secretly relieved about this, as it meant he could finally have some time to relax, Vodka rolled up a piece of bread, eating it as he entered his own room. After changing from his work clothes to his black jeans and a crumpled light orange t-shirt, Vodka left his room, aiming to start on dinner.

Cooking for two turned out to be much better than cooking for one, Vodka decided, as he prepared and then started off the rice. And of course, it didn't hurt when you had actually pretty decent equipment. While his seaweed was re-hydrating, he set a pot of water to boil, in order to cook his aburaage. Quickly, when the water was boiling, he cut the carrots and prepped the pan with a splash of sesame oil. By then the water started to boil, and he cooked the aburaage, making sure to drain the remaining water from it. Since the seaweed hydrated, he added that the aburaage, and the carrots to the pan, and sautéed, making sure to coat the ingredients thoroughly.

Vodka knocked as softly as he could on Gin's door. "Hey," He said, also trying to speak softly. "I made some dinner. You eating tonight?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be out in a minute, you can start without me."

For the first time that day, Vodka finally started to eat something with a bit more to it than toast, protein bars, and just plain bread. Before long, Gin came and started to eat as well. Vodka couldn't help but notice Gin also wore some of his casual clothes; a silky looking tank top with a pattern of roses along with a pair of dark blue jeans. After he took a couple of bites and a couple sips of coffee, Gin spoke. "I should be able to finish the rest of those reports tonight."

Swallowing his food with a drink of coffee, Vodka relaxed even further. The food was decent, and Gin, for once, seemed to be pretty okay. "Sounds good. What do we have for tomorrow?"

"Just some meetings. First one's at ten, and there's another at twelve. Just some business for next quart-" The doorbell rang, in the middle of Gin's sentence, and he got up to get it.

"Vermouth." Gin didn't bother disguising his distaste for the woman. She rarely darkened their door, but when she did…well, she usually had some sort of reason at least. Not usually a good one. "What are you doing here?"

"My word," She chided as she walked in. "Is that any way to treat a guest?"

"It is when that guest is an unexpected and unwanted one." Either Vermouth didn't understand Gin's blatant hints, or she just simply didn't care his tone.

"C'mon, I need to talk to you. Privately." After a moment of hesitation, Gin led her to his room, where he then firmly closed his door. Vodka looked at his dinner, and then over at Gin's.

For some reason, he seemed to feel a little…neglected. He rejected the emotion as soon as he recognized it. A ridiculous notion, he decided. He took another couple bites, stood up, and took Gin's bowl over to the fridge. After some consideration, he decided to just leave Gin's coffee on the counter. It should stay warm for a while after all. While he did so, Vodka spotted the newspaper resting on the counter. He began to read as he ate, trying to distract himself.

Just when he was about halfway done with both his dinner and newspaper, Gin's bedroom door slammed open. "Fine!" He heard Vermouth say, in a voice that bordered on a shout. "Fine," She said again, this time more calmly. "You have your information, and I have my answer. I can see myself out." With a remark from Gin, that was too quiet for Vodka to hear, Vermouth slammed the door behind her. She came down the hall, rubbing her temples in frustration. Vodka didn't bother to hide the fact he was curious.

He started to ask a question but he changed his mind when he saw how tired her eyes looked. "Hey," He said, tilting his head over to the leftover rice. "You want some dinner before you go?"

Vermouth looked up, more than a little surprised at the offer. For a while, Vodka was sure she was going to refuse the offer. Then he turned out to be the one to be surprised, as she accepted the offer. As he fixed her a bowl, Vermouth pulled her hair up into a ponytail, re-clipping her silver butterfly barrette.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure. Water, please."

Before long, Vodka handed her a glass of water, along with a bowl of the rice and a fork. He sat in his own chair, and they began to eat together. Vodka almost finished his meal when Vermouth cleared her throat. He looked up, as she began to speak, "I might as well tell you the news myself. You know Gin."

"So," She took a sip of water before continuing. "You know your target, correct?"

"The soon to be Himari Robbins, yeah. The renowned physicist does some sort of complicated shit with some particles or whatever."

"Well, her fiancé's brother's wife just had that baby they've been expecting," After chewing, she broke the news. "So, the event's been pushed up a week. It's the 22nd, so not this week but next week. Gin told me you're up to date with your plans. I'm sure that you can handle this then."

Vodka could have sworn the mouthful of coffee he swallowed turned ice cold as he registered her news. She was right; if they were up to date with the plans that were drafted, they should be perfectly fine. But Gin, that known liar, wasn't exactly telling the truth about their progress. He couldn't be certain, as Gin didn't let him know the full plans, but for some reason, it seemed they just haven't been doing everything that the job required. Vodka didn't notice since Gin usually took point for their more complex assignments, but they were pretty lax about this. "Well," He said, looking at his rice, not at his new dining partner. "Yeah, this should be a cinch. I mean, we're on top of it so there's nothing to worry abo-"

"Yeah, you're not on top of it, are you."

"No," Vodka confessed, speaking around a mouthful of rice. "We're not."

Vermouth sighed, pulling her ponytail out, absently fluffing her hair so it rippled across her shoulders. "I figured as much. Of course, I've been keeping tabs on everything, but at least someone around here is capable of the truth."

"We do belong to a criminal organization. You know that, right?"

Slapping a file folder from her purse onto the table, Vermouth made eye contact, as she drank a long sip of water. "Don't be cute," She said, setting her glass and her dinner aside. "If you two want to make this job somewhat less of a disaster, you have to listen to me."

Vodka took his turn to take a long sip of a beverage while maintaining eye contact. Unfortunately, his drink was much hotter than hers, so it didn't last as long as he hoped for. Coughing a bit, he cleared his throat. "You said before that this assignment was important but why can't we just get her at a less important event? In a private setting? And why does it have to be this physicist in the first place? It doesn't make any sense, and I want answers for once, damn it! You're being impossible to deal with right now and if you're so into telling the truth all of the sudden, well, maybe you should try it for a change!"

With that, Vodka stood up, scraping his chair back on the floor. After staring at the table, he sat again, finishing his meal in silence. Once his plate was cleared, he took his dishes into the kitchen and started on the dinner dishes. Not the best move he could have made, sure, but they needed doing. While he worked, Vermouth too, finished her meal in silence, not making a single attempt of conversation, not saying a word for once.

"Thanks." She said, bringing her own dishes up to the sink. "The food was actually decent. I'll see myself out."

Watching her put on her sandals, Vodka felt a pang of…something. Could have been the food he ate too quickly. Could have been remorse. "Wait," He said with a sigh. "Could you just sit down? I'll be done in a sec."

She padded softly over to the two chairs by the window and sat with her legs tucked in, skirt pooling around her. Sure to his word, Vodka joined her, after getting some more coffee. Turning her gaze from the view, she raised an eyebrow. "You know, I could kill you right here, given your increasing instances of disrespect."

"I won't stop panicking. But I could." After pointing a finger to prove her point, Vermouth absently started twirling her hair. "Look, I know I've been awfully cryptic here, but some things are just up to you to figure out. I'm not going to hold your hand through this."

"But what even is this?" Vodka demanded, setting his mug down on the table between them. "Is it just this stupid assignment?"

Vermouth dropped her hair to free up her pointing finger, which she directed towards the hallway. More specifically to the side with Gin's bedroom door. "No. It's that. Without you, Gin wouldn't even be here right now, and it's time for you to realize that, at least."

"How do you kno-"

"You are asking an awful lot of questions tonight," She groaned, rubbing her temples. "Call it a woman's gift or whatever, just accept it."

Taking a moment to do so, Vodka took a sip of coffee. A reflective sip. A sip that resulted in a painful mental parade of visions of his failures. The coffee tasted more bitter than usual. "Everything that we did together," He said slowly, still putting some things together. "Everything that Gin and I did could have been better if Gin did it without me."

Vermouth stood, muttering something about how hard it was to try and be a mentor. She came back with another glass of water, which she drank from before launching into a metaphor. Analogy. Simile. Some sort of literary device, Vodka couldn't tell the difference between them all.

"Look, you've wrapped wounds for him right?" She asked, to which Vodka had to nod. "Good. Yes. It's simple, some antiseptic, some gauze, some tape, it's done. But wrapping your own wound is another story. A long, and painful story."

She took another sip before her conclusion. "Look, you're sometimes more of a hindrance than a help, sure. But I knew Gin much longer than you have. Trust me, he wasn't the best at taking care of himself. He was a train wreck. Still is, but hey, at least he eats sometimes now."

They sat together, drinking at their beverages, each musing over the enigma of a man that they shared some sort of bond with. It was a nice moment, a quiet one, with an overall atmosphere of comfort. Their world wasn't what most would call nice, or quiet for that matter. Such moments were appreciated…although they were fleeting.

"Well!" Vermouth said once she drained the last of her water. "You've got my new files, there's a to-do list, calendar, updated backstories and such forth. I'll check in regularly, just to make sure this hellfire of an assignment doesn't burn too brightly."

Before he could say anything, a thank you, or maybe at least a goodbye, Vermouth slipped her shoes on, collected her purse, and left. As the door clicked closed behind her, Vodka willed his thoughts to relax for at least a couple of minutes. Grabbing Vermouth's new glass, he moved into the kitchen and properly finished making things look a bit more presentable.

Collapsing back into his chair, he continued reading the paper, while taking a drink of his coffee from time to time. While the sun outside dropped, his drink started to vanish, and the pages of his newspaper began to run out, Vodka heard a slight creak, from the hallway. Sure enough, Gin soon stepped through into the living area to settle into a seat at the kitchen table. A laptop and a mysterious unknown box joined him.

Once he finished both reading the newspaper and drinking his coffee, Vodka once again moved into the kitchen, leaving the mug by the sink, and the paper on the counter. He spied Gin's barely touched coffee from before, and, after checking to see if it was still warm, dropped it off at the table. Gin jutted his chin slightly, indicating the opposite chair, so Vodka sat.

His curiosity, once again, got the better of him. Vodka peered into the box, which he could see was open. He could also see it held a nicely organized array of barrettes, ribbons, elastics, and such for. In essence, for some reason, Gin had a box of hair care materials out in the open. He looked to Gin for at least some sort of explanation.

"Vermouth," He said simply, drinking some coffee. "She is taking an extremely unwarranted interest in this assignment for some reason."

Vodka scoffed, still looking through the box. "I've been noticing that. So, what's all this for?"

"She says that I need to do something with my hair for the job. Says it needs to be fancy. I don't do fancy," Gin cleared his throat, gesturing to the box. "Do you know anything about this?"

Torn between telling the truth, lying, or just hiding in his room, Vodka thought for a moment. "Yeah," He admitted, picking some things out of the box. "I can do something simple for you."

As Vodka finished gathering the necessary materials and moved to the other side of the table, Gin combed out the tangles in his hair in preparation. Already feeling awkward about this, Vodka tried to explain himself, "Uh, I could try to do some sort of side braid. Simple but effective, and, when you get the hang of it, it's pretty quick."

"Give it your best shot," Gin shrugged, pulling his hair to one side, for Vodka to work on. "I've never done anything with it before."

Gin smirked a little, as he watched his partner hesitate. "You can touch it. It doesn't usually bite."

Yeah, but you would, Vodka thought to himself, gently dividing the swath of silver hair into three sections. It's been a while since he tried to braid, but the familiar rhythm of crossing each section to be in the middle came back to him. It was so relaxing, he forgot that he should probably be explaining this. "You just have to alternate between bringing the left section to the middle and the right section," He said, continuing the braid. "When you finish, just tie it off with an elastic. Maybe, like, put a ribbon around it, or something, make it fancy and shit."

Taking a sip of coffee, Gin gave a small nod, not wanting to jostle Vodka's hands. "How did you learn this?" He asked, clicking through files on the open laptop, starting to fill out some forms.

Not sure why he would ask such a weirdly personal question, Vodka found it best to save the questioning for later. "My mother wanted me to be a good husband one day, so I had to practice with my sister. And her friends. Guess I still remember some of it."

"A good husband…" Gin mused, mainly focused on his work. "This probably wasn't what she had in mind, is it?"

Vodka stopped braiding, snapping in a barrette to keep the half-finished plait in place. It may have been a bad decision, considering how the hour was just getting later but he decided to get a half mug of coffee before continuing. He drank some before returning to work. "No," He said, setting the barrette aside, answering Gin's rhetorical question. "She probably didn't think of this."

They sat for a while, both too involved in their own work to think of anything to say. This was broken by Vodka when the braid was nearing completion. "Do you think we'll be ready in time?" He asked, not looking up. "Vermouth seemed to be a bit…concerned about it."

"Of course. I've been doing some extra research on weddings, that's all."

"Find out somethin' interesting?"

"I learned more about wedding vows, found myself thinking about how they apply to us," Gin paused for a second, before continuing. "Especially, 'til death do us part.'"

Something fluttered in Vodka then. Pieces of a puzzle were starting to fall in place then; scraps of conversation, Vermouth's cryptic and not so cryptic words, his own late night thoughts, Gin's mood over the past weeks…it seemed to be impossible but the evidence kept piling up. It really seemed like something could be going between them, something deeper than their original partnership…

Gin continued his thought. "Of course, that death would be yours. When I kill you, that is." With a sideways glance at his partner, he concluded.

"It was just a joke, don't get hung up on it," Finishing with a drink of coffee, Gin could feel his cheeks flare with a low degree of heat. "Are you nearly done?"

In response, Vodka tied the ribbon, a purple one, around the thick elastic. The whole effect was pretty much what he was aiming for, something elegant yet simple enough to be convenient. Gin ran his fingers down the braid, which rested across his chest. He looked at said chest for a moment, realizing he needed to figure how best to conceal it. "I'm sure it'll do," He said, shifting his focus on the braid. "Thanks. S'better than what I could do."

Shrugging, Vodka moved his chair back to the other side of the table. "It should work okay," He filled the box with the unused materials, made sure it was somewhat organized, and put the lid on it. He tried to put the lid on any leftover thoughts about Gin's earlier quip. Those could wait for later.

Switching over to a business mood, Gin displayed the laptop screen, which in turn was displaying a detailed calendar. "We have eight days now, given the new deadline. As you can see, it'll be tight around our already full schedule. If we get our suits tomorrow, and each practice our dancing and back stories on our own time, we should be on track."

Vodka nodded, looking over the details, drinking some coffee. "Any updates, changes, from human resources? Or, rather, Vermouth?"

"Apparently our backstories changed slightly; instead of distant cousins to the bride, we're now her step-brother's old roommates from law school. Don't ask me why that changed. And instead of a black tie, it's now a creative black tie event."

"Makes sense," He said, squinting at the calendar's tiny font. "It's a modern age and all that. Seems to be easy enough. Dancing shouldn't be too difficult, the hardest part would be finding someone to dance with if we want to blend in with it all."

Turning the laptop back towards him, Gin started to type some more. "According to the timeline of the event we've been provided, that seems like the best time to approach the target, Himari Robbins. I'll slip away whenever I see an opening, and then we can just wait the rest of the night out. Should be simple."

Once he finished his coffee, Vodka rinsed his mug out, leaving it on the counter. "That's it, right? I want to get a reasonable night's sleep for once."

"Go ahead, I'm going to finish those reports tonight."

"Okay, see you in the morning. Eight, right?"

"Right."

Vodka slipped into his room, safely alone as he clicked his door shut. He didn't bother turning on a light as he undressed, and slipped into bed under the cover of darkness. Stretching his legs out, he felt something slip off the bed, skittering onto the floor. Heart beating faster than usual, he turned on the light to see what it was.

Carefully stepping onto the floor lightly, he sighed with relief as he realized it was just a package of cookies. He forgot he bought them today, a little treat just because he felt like it. Hoping Gin didn't see them, Vodka slid them under the bed, put his sunglasses on the bedside table, and turned the light off.

Of course, when he was alone, in the dark, with nothing but his thoughts, the day came rushing back to him. The reports, Champagne, Marissa, the grocery store, the pharmacist, more reports, dinner, Vermouth, and of course, both finally and throughout the day, there was Gin. Vodka groaned, willing himself to try and forget everything. His feelings, his half done conclusions, everything Vermouth said, every unanswered question he had. All of it, he wanted to forget it all.

As sleep threatened to overcome him, Vodka found himself thinking once again, about Gin's latest remark about his unavoidable death. Gin could have killed him a long time ago, and there were no shortage of ways it could be done. There was nothing, no reason, for keeping someone alive who has been known to fail. So, why hasn't Gin just done it yet? Why was he left alive?

Vodka struggled with these thoughts and eventually fell asleep, while Gin struggled through both his thoughts and his work. He was far from sleep, which wasn't all that uncommon for him. Sleep was a waste, that's what his instructors used to drill into him. But it wasn't the past that consumed his thoughts tonight, nor was it the work that laid before. It was his former bedfellow, Vermouth. Shoving his laptop aside, Gin rested his head in his hands, trying to get to grips with things.

It was clear that she was playing him, he knew that much. This job wasn't nearly as important as she kept on making it out to be. Damn bitch. She had too much fun in nosing around people's personal lives. He noticed all the little conversations she had with Vodka, although he didn't care to find out exactly what those meant. She was alluding him, something that didn't happen for a long time; usually, he could piece together her little schemes. Vermouth's been at it for weeks now, even before they got their assignment, hopefully, things could start getting back to normal after the damn thing was done. Seemed like it made everyone jumpy.

He looked at his laptop without seeing it. The work had to be done, and it had to be done soon if they wanted any chance of submitting them in time for the deadline. Pulling the laptop closer again, he filled in one report, and then two more, before he had to admit that his body demanded sleep. Closing his laptop, Gin slipped into his room, only taking off his pants before getting into bed. Sleep came easily for once, so easily that he didn't even realize that he forgot to take out his braid.

The morning sun arose quicker than either man either expected or wanted, meaning their alarms went off shortly after. The stress of yesterday still remained, leading Vodka wanting to cuddle deeper into his sheets. Knowing the negative consequences would far outweigh the positive, he reluctantly tossed off his covers to take a quick shower. Across the hall, Gin was already dressed, trying to work out the tangles his overnight braid cost him. As it was his hair had an unwanted wave to it now, giving his appearance a different effect. It might lead people to think he actually cared about it. Putting that aside, Gin left his room, going to the kitchen to get something to eat.

That something turned out to be a granola bar and some juice. He would have made coffee but vague memories of what happened last time stopped him. Vodka, feeling refreshed from his early shower, also joined Gin in breakfast. Not feeling too fancy, he just made a couple slices of toast to go with a quick cup of tea. Besides a good morning and the odd piece of business, they didn't talk about much. The same could go for their drive into work; once again, Gin drove. They were slipping into their old routine it seemed.

Nothing interesting happened during the few hours spent at the office, just some meetings accompanied by paperwork. They had a small run in with Chianti, who, in her own way wished them good luck for their upcoming assignment. She was very snarky about the whole matter, but that was just Chianti's regular form of speaking.

After those hours of work-work, they had to take the rest of the afternoon off, to do one of the many things they had to do for their formal event. Suit shopping. "This looks like the place," Vodka commented, parking in front of a tasteful shop. Gin let him drive this time. Maybe things weren't going back to the way they were just yet.

Checking the address against the paper Vermouth gave him, Gin nodded, leading the way into the store. Sure enough, it did seem to be a suit supplier, given the elegant displays of the various parts to suits. The store also seemed to be empty, save the store's owner and his assistant. "Welcome," The former called, briefly glancing at the ledger he held. "My one o'clock I assume, Mr Hashimoto and Mr Fukui? Excellent."

As the shopkeeper's assistant ushered them into their own private dressing rooms, each already with a selection of suit choices, Vodka had to wonder about their new shed names as often as snakes shed their skins it seemed like, although the latest two seemed familiar. He pondered it as he undressed, and it was only when he finished dressing in the first suit that he placed the names. They were the new names chosen by human resources for their latest assignment. Makes sense they would start using them now, although he couldn't remember if he was meant to be Hashimoto or Fukui. That seemed to be something worth looking into. He took a glance in the mirror, making sure his bowtie was straight; he was more used to ties after all. This…thing looked too friendly for his taste, with its white flowers printed on black fabric. The rest of the suit was fine, although the white shirt was brighter than what he was expecting.

He left his dressing room just as Gin did. "You look…nice," Vodka offered, looking at the grey suit his partner sported. Not often they wore something different, and the white shirt was a sharp contrast to Gin's average look. Pairing it with a pale purple, lavender maybe, tie accented with small silver flowers was even more over the top. But, he did mean what he said. The look was nice.

Gin may have been about to speak, but whatever he would have said was lost, as the shop assistant ushered them into the main area of the store. The owner, in turn, ushered them to stand on a raised platform, surrounded by mirrors. Vodka stared at his reflections, all at slightly different angles. The effect was highly unnerving, and if he stood there for a moment longer, his mind would have gone to some existential places. Thankfully that was avoided, in favour of the owner inspecting them himself.

"It's not normally the case the first suits are the best but, what do you know," Shrugging, the owner tilted his head as he adjusted Gin's tie slightly. "What do you think?"

"They'll do," Gin said with an uncomfortable edge in his voice, as he lightly grasped the tie's knot. Vodka nodded in agreement, not wanting to say the wrong thing. After some more polite conversation, they left to change into their regular clothes as the assistant started to ring up their purchases. For financial reasons, they were only renting the outfits and planned to return them the day after the event. Once they emerged from the dressing rooms, the store assistant disappeared to pack the garments, as the owner completed the transaction.

"I think you two made the right choice, suit wise," He smoothly said, lightly tapping at the register's keys. "They look nice together. You two really do make a good match."

Muttering some sort of reply under his breath, Gin tried to blame his slightly shaking hands on the store's cooler temperature. Beside him, Vodka blamed his warm cheeks on the store's warmer temperature. They were both lying to themselves. The store was a moderate temperature.

After the purchase, the drive home was another quiet one. Gin did drive once again, but he also carried both suits, now safely in garment bags all the way upstairs to their apartment. He draped them over a kitchen chair before taking off his outerwear, as Vodka did the same, before moving to the kitchen. "Coffee?" He offered, gesturing to the pot.

"Not right now. I have to start working on preparations, and I recommend you do the same." With that, Gin selected his suit and went to his room. The door closed firmly behind him. Feeling oddly put out, Vodka took his own suit to his room, along with a sheaf of papers relating to the assignment details. More specifically, he intended to do some research and devise some talking points. Their table, according to a seating plan, consisted of them, a couple that were related to the groom, and another couple who were connected to the bride.

Sitting on his bed, Vodka flipped through the papers, making notes whenever he saw fit. It appeared that he was meant to be Shirou Fukui, a thirty-three year old single man. Shouldn't be too hard to get into that character given he was only one year older. He spent a good amount of time looking through sample conversations and conjuring his own. The silence was unbroken, until he heard some muffled swears from Gin's room, along with a crash and a thud.

Curiosity once again getting the better of him, Vodka lightly knocked on the door, before letting himself in. It was a good thing he got used to stifling his laughter because it took a lot of restraint to stop himself. Gin appeared to be on the floor, tangled in the cord of a floor lamp. The lamp itself was on its side, collapsed beside an upturned bedside table. Faint music came from a laptop perched on the bed, which was playing a video that seemed to be a dancing tutorial.

"It's harder than it looks," Gin muttered, trying to untangle himself. To Vodka's credit, he didn't say anything at first, just uprighted the lamp, the bedside table, and his partner, biting back a smile while he did so. When he first became Gin's partner, it seemed like he was worse at everything. Now, it looked like the tables were shifting again.

"So, uh, it's pretty hard to practice this kind of thing without a partner, you know." He said, willing himself to make eye contact. "Need a hand?"

After a moment, Gin nodded, and stepped closer, allowing Vodka to take the lead. They spent the greater part of the day like that, dancing, being supported in the other's embrace. As awkward as it was at first, it became more and more natural. It almost felt like they belonged like this; together.

"No, your hand should go on my right hip, not the left."

"Where do I look?"

"I think eye contact is the best bet. Just make sure you don't, ow, step on their foot. Like that."

"Sorry."

"I'll live…for now, I guess."

"Heh, yeah. For now."