"Oh, you just think you're so slick, don't you?" Despite her tone, River can't help but inwardly appreciate the sight of the soon-to-be Time Agent lounging casually on her window sill. He thinks he's so handsome, that one, and though she'll never tell him so, he really really is. He's handling something, but she can't quite make out what it is. Curiosity wins out over aloofness, and she drifts closer, reaching a hand out to grasp it.
It's at this point that he makes a show of lifting it out of her reach and she catches sight of what it is. A gun. A nice one too, were she to guess by how fondly he was holding it. She impresses herself by being only slightly on guard. "Now, now," he says, his voice the very picture of innocence, "Can't let a little girl like you handle equipment like this."
Oh, now that's a challenge, and it practically sparks like lightning in her eyes. She shifts, not quite grinding against him, and lowers her voice to a purr. "Harkness, you know I'm perfectly capable with all kinds of equipment."
He laughs, but still doesn't hold it out to her. "Not this one. It's special." Jack moves now, rolling off the window and smoothly to his feet (she has always admired his effortless grace), and the moment he lands, his eyes are alight. Oh. She knows that look. "This one is extremely rare. Only ten of them to ever exist. And, get this," He leans towards her with the air of someone sharing a particularly harrowing secret, "Factory is producing them, right? But only ten made before BOOM, the whole place is in pieces! Nobody hurt, it's a robot-operated facility, but it makes it extra special."
She sizes him up with a glance. "Little trainee like you, I doubt you could afford something like that." Then again, he has always held himself with arrogance and they do not often speak of their personal lives. Mostly it is this, snarky quips, adventurous enthusing, flirty banter between sneaking out on exploratuon that is so often consumated in heady kisses and sweat-slicked bodies. It is an easy agreement between them, because Jack knows only River and seems to instinctively know to not seek Melody. The past is quid pro quo and so she never asks and likely never will. But maybe Jack is rich.
He grins. Maybe not. "I can not."
"You stole it," She accuses, not without humor. "Oh, you bad bad boy."
"Liberated it," He says with a tone of mock offense. "It's in safe hands."
"And how safe are your hands, Jack Harkness?" River asks. There is a heavirt meaning behind her words that even she does not know.
His answer is as equally ambigious. "Safe enough to keep you in line, River Song." He answers softly, and their expressions lock. Within seconds it is gone, but she will wonder about it later, perhaps never quite stop wondering, and Jack is babbling again. He is past his enigma, turning straight back into the enthusiastic child, and he insists on teaching her to use the gun. She laughs and impresses him by taking out a chunk of the tree just outside, and he only laughs a little when she is indignant and claims she aimed to knock it down.
There is no questions. No pushing. No pressure. Everything is a challenge in the present, and together they bury the past.