Internet was not a luxury Martin could afford. Of course, his uni flat mates were kind enough to allow him to use their Wi-Fi, but that required lugging his ancient laptop downstairs to the sitting room. And today he didn't want a flock of students hovering over his shoulder to see what he was doing. Instead he carried his computer several blocks away to the nearest coffee shop, where he ordered the cheapest cup of tea on the menu and set himself in the window to work.

It had been an idea Douglas had planted in his mind long ago. A dating website. He'd turned his account to inactive months ago, frustrated with the plethora of emails flooding his inbox. All of them had been from spam machines enticing him to fake profiles that advertised all means of enhancement drugs. Of course, the first time it had happened, he had made the mistake of thinking it was a real woman emailing him. (Albeit it a rather …brass woman) After he had replied to that message, the tirade of spam had begun and he swore never to return to a dating site again.

But desperate times called for desperate measures. And this was quite the desperate time for the captain, he couldn't bear the idea of the smug look that Douglas would smother him with when he admitted to lying about having a girlfriend. Or that awful, almost pitying look Arthur had favored him with. He didn't even want to imagine Carolyn's reaction to it all.

Martin frowned, it couldn't be that hard, could it? People went on dates all the time. And honestly, all he needed was one real date for Christmas. Just a nice girl who would be willing to help him out. The website was teeming with females looking for a date, certainly one of them would be willing to pretend being his girlfriend, at least for one night.

An hour in, he had managed to have two IM conversations. The first had seemed nice enough, until he checked out her profile and saw her list of interests. Half of the words he didn't recognize, but things like "whips," "chains," and "safe word" had been enough to scare him away. The second woman had more promise, but had requested to see a picture.

Martin had no photographs of himself, but managed to download a few Arthur had uploaded to the MJN website. When he sent one of him and Douglas standing in front of GERTI, making sure she understood that he was the one in the captain's uniform, her reply had been that she wasn't interested in an older sugar daddy and promptly signed off.

"I'm wearing the hat!" Martin snapped at his computer screen, but it was too late. Perhaps it would just be easier if he set a profile picture. The site kept suggesting it each time he tried to edit his profile.

He settled on a slightly blurred photo of he, in his aviator sunglasses, and Arthur in his handmade stewards hat. With a bit of cropping, he supposed it wouldn't be all bad. It took the better part of an hour for his aged computer to edit the picture to his satisfaction, and another twenty just to save the file. But when he went to upload his work, an error message popped up with a bing.

A loud groan escaped the captain as he glowered at the screen. "What do you mean the file is too big? It's just a small bit from an even bigger picture!" He threw up his hands in exasperation when he realized that his shouting had garnered several angry looks from fellow coffee patrons. Blushing, he quickly slouched even lower in his seat and ducked his head down as close to the keyboard as he could manage.

"Um, did you compress the file? That usually works. Or even saving it under a different file extension can do the trick."

Martin peeked slowly over the edge of the screen at the source of the soft voice directed his way. A young woman with a thick braid hanging over one shoulder was seated at the next table over, a book laying open in front of her. She offered him a gentle smile and Martin suddenly found his tongue much thicker then he remembered.

"C-c-compress?" he stammered, looking from his keyboard to the woman. She chuckled, taking a seat in the empty chair at his table pulled the computer closer. It gave a loud whir in protest. "Sorry, it's a bit of a hand-me-down." Martin muttered, finding it suddenly impossible to look at anything but his shoes. They were scuffed. Horribly so. He tucked them quickly under his chair as the woman spoke up, "Oh, that's okay. My computer complains all the time too. They can be fussy. Anyway, here, I'll show you how you can shrink the file size."

With a few quick clicks, she had fixed the problem, "Where were you trying to load it? Let's make sure it works now."

Martin looked up aghast. He hardly wanted this completely random, really rather attractive, stranger to know he was using a dating website. He tried to sputter out an excuse but she had already pulled up the website much to his horror. "Oh!" she said, casting a sideways glance at Martin.

He wanted nothing more than to dig a hole and bury himself in it at that moment. Go fly GERTI into a mountain. Be eaten by polar bears. Anything but be staring at his dating profile with this woman. He tried lamely to explain, "It's not—I mean, I just wanted to try it out—It's really just because I need one real date, is all…"

He managed to cast a furtive glance at the woman, waiting for her to burst out in laughter and leave him is his humiliated misery. But instead she only grinned widely, "I've got a profile on here too! Hang on, I'll show you in a tick." She finished updating his picture before pulling up her own profile.

Pink. Lots of pink.

Once he had gotten past the onslaught of the color, he saw that her picture was mostly comprised of a fat cat, and what he assumed to be her arms holding it up in the air. He couldn't help the quirk of an eyebrow and the woman blushed immediately. "That's Toby," she explained, "maybe not the best picture to pick for a dating site. Your picture is loads better, you look fantastic in it, very handsome."

A moment passed and they both began to redden then, looking away to the floor. "T-thanks," Martin managed to stammer, panicked by the compliment. He couldn't remember the last time someone had called him handsome. If ever. The woman managed a mute nod, just as embarrassed to be sprouting such things to a stranger.

"Its says you are from London? What are you doing here in Fitton?" Martin asked, eager to change the subject, but desperate to continue some conversation with the woman. She latched on excitedly, "Yeah, I live there. Just on an extended holiday is all. Needed a break from…things."

"And you came to Fitton?"

"I guess its not really a tourist hot spot, huh?" she giggled, "Well, my sister lives out here so at least the price is right."

And then the awkward silence was back. Their eyes darted around the coffee shop, dancing around one another's face without ever making real contact. She cast a look back over to her table dejectedly, and he could hear the scrape of her chair against the floor. She was leaving! No, not yet! Think, man, think!

"I'm Martin!" he burst out, louder than he had expected, thrusting his hand out towards her. Her eyes widened, and she leaned back in her chair, taken aback by the outburst. Martin was certain she was going to race out of the coffee shop screaming and began to pull his hand back. He stopped as he felt her soft hand slip into his own, the soft pressure of a friendly handshake.

"I'm Molly. Nice to meet you, Martin."

"Nice to meet you, too, Martin," he answered automatically. "Molly! Nice to meet you too, Molly! Oh God." Yet as he felt himself about to fall into another flustered Martin attack, Molly began to laugh. But it was a different kind of laugh then he was use to. It wasn't cruel or mocking the panicking ginger, but it was gentle and warm. Martin managed to crack a small smile in response.

He calmed himself with a few deep breaths, summoning every ounce of courage his body processed. Which didn't amount to much, but he still had to try. "Um, would you…would you want to finish having your coffee with me? I mean, that is, if you want to. It seems like you were reading a rather lovely book about…oh, about dead bodies? Cadavers. Ah. Right. Yes. Anyway, I'm sure it was very interesting, way more interesting than having a coffee with me. But, well, I just thought…" He trailed off lamely, feeling rather miserable that he had just butchered his attempt with the lovely woman from London. "Please?"

But Molly was giving him an odd smile, just slightly crooked but entirely pleased. "I'd love to!" She gathered her things, only managing to drop her book once in her excitement (which Martin immediately scrambled to pick up) and settled into the seat across from Martin. They shared a mutual, shy smile.

Martin set her book on the table, pointing at the cover. "A hobby?" Molly shrugged, somewhat embarrassed, "No, no, its my job. I guess a bit of a hobby, too. I'm just one of those weirdos who enjoys doing work, even when I'm not actually at work."

In that moment, Martin was certain his day couldn't get any better.