+Author's note:

VValentine - Huge compliment received. Sensei bow commences for Joss Whedon.

Please forgive any horrible humor that emerges, in defense of myself, I've been watching wayyyy too much youtube gamer humor courtesy of Shamus, so let the wincing begin.

Slainte.

….

PART ONE: INTO THE DEPTHS

Episode 3: Ghosts of Velcro

The Floating Aquapolis of Terragrigia (Pre-Panic), 2004

"So, if you click on this and pull here," Quint demonstrated how to store a sample in the vacuum sealer of the Genesis, "You can actively collect data and upload simultaneously."

Jill nodded, encouraged by the functionality of the device.

Admittedly, she was thrilled with what the money infused by Tricell had done for the BSAA. It was giving them the ability to, finally, create weapons to stop the infected beyond zombies. Chris was, actively, working in conjunction with field ops and tech supply to create ammunition specific to B.O.W.S. In an homage to their greatest nemesis, the Albert-001 would be the first gun created to house bullets with genetic components aimed, entirely, at mutated DNA.

Jill clapped him on the back, laughing with delight when Quint demonstrated the Genesis' ability to process the environment and reveal credible threats, infection to mutation ratios, heat signatures, and vital signs of anything in its general vicinity.

She breathed, with reverence, "Now we'll know…when we go in…if the place is hostile. Before we ever set boots on the ground, we'll know what we're in for."

Quint grinned, thrilled with her response, "You bet- Better than that? If you click here and here," He threw a virtual map on the wall for her and it showed the entire blueprint of the building they were in. It also mapped out varying escape routes, showed ductwork and the likelihood of escape via sewer lines, and showed the names of all the people within a block radius from where they stood.

Jill blinked, watching the names light up. "How?"

"Anyone that has been DNA mapped is accessible by the Genesis. You get a lot of feedback here, because, hello! We all work for organizations that map us on a regular basis looking for mutations. But it wouldn't be so clear in a public setting with your average Tom, Dick, or Harry."

She grabbed his arm, squeezing, "But it would show us Albert Wesker."

They held eyes over the map on the wall and Quint agreed, grinning, "Yep. Without question. The bossman? THRILLED. Balls-in-your-ass-deep-dicking-a-diva thrilled."

"Oh, I bet he was." She could see his face the second he realized it. They were SO CLOSE. They had all the keys now. They just needed to find the lock to turn them in.

She breathed, "Your time is up, Wesker. Keep running. Keep hiding…coward."

Quint was grinning, "I done good?"

She squeezed his arm again, laughing, "Oh, oh oh-oh, so good. I knew in the interview you were a gold mine. Chris wasn't sure since you had as much professionalism as Beavis and Butthead…but….I knew. This is what you had in you."

She turned and hugged him so spontaneously that he squeaked and grabbed her to hold on.

As a testament to the fact that he kinda loved her? He didn't even grope her.

Quint glanced at the map on the wall and squeaked again, "Whoa! WHOA! I gotta be wrong here."

"What's that?" Jill leaned from hugging him and glanced at the map.

"It says...but...it can't really be him right? Is he HERE!? I thought he'd be, you know, like ass deep in alligators in the Congo or something..."And Quint squeaked, "NOT WRONG! SIR!"

Lord, he shouted it.

Jill jumped and turned.

Sir, indeed.

Quint was bowing and scraping like a fanboy. Why?

Notorious man-whore-and-possibly-fake-agent Leon Kennedy was coming toward them. Oy. Jill kept her face blank but arched a brow.

And Quint shouted it again, "GOOD TO MEET YOU, SIR! HUGE-HUGE FAN!"

Highly amused, eyes twinkling, Leon shook hands with the excited Tigger. He also glanced at Jill and winked causing her to roll her eyes. "Hey, guy?"

"YES SIR!"

Leon laughed, and patted his arm, "Ease down. It's ok. You're shouting. You're scaring those kids over there with it. So just…dial back a tiny bit."

Quint flushed bright red and laughed, heehawing a little, "So sorry. Ah. Hah. I -you know-have no filter."

Leon patted his shoulder with sympathy and moved over to look at the map on the wall. He brushed right by her to do it, which…was utterly unnecessary. But she didn't shift away either so…who was the idiot here?

But he wasn't looking at her. He was staring…why was he always staring!?...at the wall.

The captivation on his face was paramount. She was enthralled with him like he was with the damn wall. Annoyed, Jill followed his line of sight and Leon spoke, almost reverently, "What is this?"

Quint bounced over, doing the pee-pee dance, "The Genesis! I MADE IT!"

Leon lifted his brows again and Quint backpedaled a little, "Sorry. Sorry, sir. Sorry."

"No, sir. Just Leon." Leon gestured with his head, "You've mapped the area using genetic build and composition?"

What now? Jill listened. She did.

She didn't understand the next five minutes of nerd lingo. But she listened.

Quint used big words that made her wince. He talked about genetic mapping and DNA and chromosomes.

She lost him halfway through what he was just zinging out there. And grabbed his elbow, "Slow down. Pretend I don't have three degrees in every facet of science and that my IQ isn't over 135 and just…dumb it down for me a little."

Leon actually answered, surprising her, because it meant he? He understood every fucking word…damn him.

"Genetic mapping - also called linkage mapping - can offer firm evidence that a disease transmitted from parent to child is linked to one or more genes. Mapping also provides clues about which chromosome contains the gene and precisely where the gene lies on that chromosome."

Quint nodded, fast and happy, "Yes! Hah! I tell you about this guy, Jill? They say he's practically a genius."

So, she'd heard, annoyingly.

Quint went on, "Yes, exactly, using genetic mapping…" He moved to his map and pointed, "I can tell you that these two are related."

The Genesis brought up data on two agents by the fountain, "See? Not first generation. But it's in there. Cousins?"

Amused, Leon nodded, "Second cousins."

"Precisely."

Jill queried, "Why does this matter? In the big picture?"

And Leon answered again, "Genetic maps have been used successfully to find the gene responsible for relatively rare, single-gene inherited disorders such as cystic fibrosis. It isolates the chemical patterns characteristic specifically to the base…it makes a marker."

Jill kept her brow winged up.

Leon took her arm and guided her over to the wall. There was no flirting with him now. Just intelligence, just excitement, and a little bit of awe. The intelligence?

Super fucking hot.

Damn him.

He gestured to the subjects that were related. "They both have a genetic history of asthma. But the markers found don't stop there. They can find heart disease, cancer…psychiatric disorders."

He moved behind her and gestured over her shoulder to a woman at the top right, "DNA markers don't, by themselves, identify the gene responsible for the disease or trait, but they can tell researchers roughly where the gene is on the chromosome. This woman? She's a carrier for muscular dystrophy."

She turned her head to feel his profile next to hers. She went half brain dead but she murmured, "How does that help us?"

He turned his head down, eyes bright and grinning, "The T-Virus works on a submolecular level. It bonds, directly, to the DNA of the host. It is looking for specific markers. We can use this to track susceptibility to the virus."

Quint laughed with delight to have a similar mind at work with him, "YES! We can pinpoint areas within large populations of those most likely to be targeted-"

And Jill finished it now, seeing the pattern, finally, "—and vaccinate them in advance."

Reverently.

She got it now.

She felt Leon drop his hand onto her shoulder and squeeze and he breathed, "Yeah. We can stop it before it lands. We can inoculate entire areas and avoid outbreaks."

"Oh, god. Oh my god." She laughed.

She, also, apparently lost her mind as she turned and spontaneously hugged him.

Which…was a response to the excitement of FINALLY making headway.

But it was ok, in a way. Because he hugged her back. And Quint came over to hug them.

Which…was kinda weird but again, ok, because they were all so happy.

She liked the hugging. The hugging was good.

Her hands slid under the suit jacket he was finally wearing and did NOT stroke his back. Nope. It was just a hug.

The hugging was good. Harmless.

Quint let go to dance and start rambling on again about the process of viral elimination using a large-scale distribution of the vaccine.

And Jill realized she was still holding on to Leon Kennedy.

So…it was now a fifteen-second hug. Which…was entirely too long for public embracing. Her hands kinda slid down and over the top of his ass. He leaned back to see her face, eyes wide and sparkling with good humor, and from somewhere on the upper balcony Jill heard someone shout, "MANWHORE!"

She jumped back like he'd burned her.

She literally stumbled doing it and half fell on the table with all her research on it. Quint grabbed her out of habit, since he was always falling himself, and set her upright – unphased. He just kept going on about the Genesis.

Jill's beet red face flicked up to the balcony. Claire. In a black suit. She used her hands to demonstrate humping a fern beside her and pointed at Leon.

Leon, so amused it almost HURT, mused, "I believe she's implying I fucked that plant."

Hoarsely, Jill breathed, "Why not? You humped everything else."

Oh, he loved this girl. He grinned and winked at Claire who gave him a narrow look and spun back to the conference room. And he added, "Not true. The plant is clearly not wearing a skirt."

He turned his head, tilting it, "Want another hug?"

Asshole.

The hugging was BAD.

The hugging was bad.

She stepped back and gave him deadpan eyes. "No. Thank you. I'll pass." She patted Quint on the arm, "I…am gonna leave you with Mr. Kennedy."

Quint seemed happy as a clam now. "Are you interested in the updated functions I've integrated to include isolation of the exact location of plagas in implanted hosts?"

Leon considered him and laughed. Because he really was.

"You know what?" Leon kicked a chair out and sat down, crossing his ankles, "Show me whatcha got."

Jill narrowed her eyes at him, "….maybe we shouldn't be giving away our secrets here, Quint."

Quint looked confused. "It's interagency cooperation, right? How does getting USSTRATCOM on board not benefit all of us?"

Leon tilted his head at her as if to say: I told you so.

And Jill rolled her eyes, "Fine…just…" She picked up her files from the table, "I'm taking these with me."

Leon tried not to laugh, a little, "Why is that?"

"So you don't…you know…take them in the bathroom with you and just…leave them there."

Oh, his face. It was something. He licked his teeth and cleared his throat, "Maybe I'll see you in the bathroom later and we can read them together."

Her brain said: There's no reading with him in the bathroom. Unless you're reading the fire escape plan posted on the back of the stall as he's hammering you into the door. Then maybe.

Jill swung away, snorting.

Leon watched her make a beeline for the elevator and said, off-handedly, "Hey guy?"

Quint bobbed, happily, gathering his data up. "Yes, sir?"

"Gather up your data, give me thirty minutes, and meet me down by the water. Might as well have some sun, sand, and sangria while you brief me on it, right?"

"Sure. You bet! Absolutely."

The eager puppy thing was pretty funny. The guy was CLEARLY not her boyfriend too. Which meant? She was a fibber of the first water.

Leon nipped into the closing doors a second before she got away.

Jill pursed her lips, not amused at all. "Stalker."

He laughed and shrugged a shoulder. "Just two people on an elevator here. You prefer bathrooms?"

Jill shifted away, pouting a little. Was it too much to ask that he not be…everywhere? Maybe just…not here. Over there?

Where is there? Her mind wondered. How far away is far enough?

Jill mused, aloud, "You…know what you are doing."

Oh, his eyes were all kinds of twinkling joy. "Do I?"

"Don't you?"

"Do you?"

"Oh, I do. I do. Don't tell me you don't."

He smirked, "Don't what?"

"You know what." She shifted, red face.

And he queried, "What do I know?"

"You know..what you know…that's all I know. I'm just sayin."

The elevator pinged and four cheerleaders jumped in with pompoms and laughter and giggling. Leon shifted closer to Jill to make room. Jill went stone-faced.

The cheerleaders were practicing and shrieking with joy and one, maybe eighteen on a good day glanced over at them. She blinked, she giggled, and she squeaked, "Hi!"

Amused, Leon winked back, "Hi."

Lord.

The giggling.

Jill pursed her lips, licking her teeth, and she muttered, "Yeah, you do…what you do…dude."

He blinked. His face just...it split on the cutest smile probably, potentially, ever on a person's face. He leaned a little down to her ear. "You seem nervous."

She hated him.

Officially.

Jill laughed, face flushed, "I'm not. I assure you. I do not do…what you do...ever. So…yeah. Don't-uh-" She swooped her hand in a circle in front of her, "Do your do over here in this..space here. That's a do free zone."

Deadpan now, he eyed her, "A do do free zone huh?"

Damn him.

She smirked. He smirked.

The cheerleader said, "You're really cute."

And Jill answered, without missing a beat, "Why thank you. You're cute too."

The girls giggled and twittered and laughed with delight and Leon leaned back against the wall. His arm draped behind her on the railing. He said, tongue in cheek, "I think you're cute too, FYI."

She gave him a cool expression from a pink face, "Keep your…mojo over there, sir. It's not welcome here."

"In the do do free zone?"

Oy.

The elevator pinged open, the cheerleaders scattered and one poked her head in as the doors closed, "Super cute…for an old guy."

The doors pinged shut.

Jill was frozen – eyes wide.

She coughed into the ensuing silence.

And Leon?

He just laughed. "Well, shit, sucks for you. She thinks you're an old guy. Maybe you should have worn a skirt."

UGH. Unflappable. Seriously.

Jill gave him a narrow look. "You are an odious man."

"I've heard that somewhere before actually."

"Hmm. She seems like a wise soul."

"Ah. She is..for an old guy."

Jill turned her face to him completely now. "You think you're charming?"

He considered it, speculative, eyes squinted as he assessed the situation. Her lips quirked, brows lifted, and he answered, "Yep. I say yes. Tentatively? I'm going with an affirmative on the charming."

The jacket was just open, the adorable little vest pulled happily taunt over his retardedly perfect belly, and he was just leaning there like…a swooping, annoying, staring weirdo.

Jill said, out loud again, almost rambling, "I might hate you."

Oh. That wild amusement on him again, "Hmm. Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're…dumb. And…tall."

He shifted. Their hips brushed.

HOW LONG WAS THIS ELEVATOR RIDE!? She was dying here.

The longest goddamn ride in history.

And her brain said: Nope. That happened in the bathroom last night.

Shit.

Plop.

She looked down to see if she, literally, had just shit a brick. Nope. Just her feet, and his, in those loafers. So, she added, "Go stand over there."

He laughed. He just laughed. "Why? I like it here."

"This-it's-this is my ZONE." She shoved him a little and had him laughing with delight, "This is where I stand. The Jill Zone."

"The do do free zone?"

Ugh.

UGH. God.

"Yes! No hairdos. Or dudes with tattoos. Or dudes who do…what..you…do…" He sniffed her behind her ear.

She froze, her brains went FBBTSIl&*! And she tried to remember what she was saying.

Why was he always staring and sniffing!? Was he a dog?

She shouted it and had him jumping, "Stop with the SMELLING!"

He blinked, "I was just checking for do do. Can't have any of that in your zone."

Hate. She hated him. She pointed at his nose, "You are an absolute mess, sir. And very…stupid. With the sniffing and swooping and the singing."

He turned his face. She turned hers. Her fingers shifted and curled into his vest. They rubbed mouths and she shouted, so loud it echoed, "AND THE SEX!"

His eyes were so wide. He was soooo laughing up his sleeve at her. She knew it.

He said, quietly, "Stupid with the sex?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes. With the sexing and the…" She slid a little more against him, fisting his tie, "…face."

His brows arched, he didn't even move now. He just let her root around against him with her nose and her nervous energy. "The face?" Quiet now, he murmured it, "You don't like the face, huh?"

"No…the face-the face is-it's—good face. It's good face."

"Well, thanks. I like your face too."

"Yeah. Just…" She nuzzled him down to her and whispered, "…don't tell."

Lord. She was something. His eyes twinkled, "Who am I telling?"

"…anyone. I think or-uh-no one? Who? Wait-what? What are you saying?"

She was adorable. He was a little nuts for her. "Hmm. I have no clue. Jill?"

"Mmm?"

"You want me to kiss you?"

"Yeah. A little. Maybe-yeah—so a little bit."

"Sure. In your zone?"

"No-just—let me do this—thing here…like..just…over here." Gibberish or something. It didn't matter. She spilled into him. He shifted to let her. He didn't touch her at all.

She just put her tongue in his mouth and tried to taste the coffee on him.

Yep, she thought, handfuls of his hair and four seconds of burning alive from the mouth down later, yep. Mocha.

Panting a little, she murmured, "Maybe you can put your hands on me…a little. Maybe."

"Hmm. Do what I do huh?"

"Yeah. Yep." She licked him and had him turning into her. "Yeah. Do what you do. Mmhmm. Sure."

He opened her suit jacket to slide his hands onto her and around her back to press her into him. Breathy, he asked, "What do I do?"

And she whispered, squeaking a little, "Uh-I don't—um—me?"

He laughed against her mouth, letting her take the lead here. Which…was not at all his style.

She slid her hands into the back of his pants and gripped his ass. "Yeah. Do me. Sounds right I think? Good? Yes?"

"Yes. Good. Yep."

Shifting cloth, the click of teeth, and somebody laughed. She pushed him into the corner and made mincemeat out of his mouth with her hands in his pants like a horny parasite or something. She had him laughing with it and catching her face to plunge into her mouth like she wanted it.

She found his holster and her brain was confused. What was this confunded contraption? Why was it blocking her groping hands?

She whispered, "Where's the..the-itchy stuff-the clicky latchey stuff?"

God. His hands slid over hers and guided it under the holster so she could rub his shoulders. "The velcro?"

"Yeah. The scratchy...shifty stuff...are you wearing a harness?"

He laughed. He just laughed, "It's a holster, honey, you know that. You're wearing one."

She paused. She blinked. Her owl eyes were glazed. She shivered and breathed as he nipped down her neck and gasped, "Is it an arctic wolf?!"

His head came up, her mouth found his and had her forgetting what the hell she'd been asking anyway. She got one hand in his pants and skimmed him.

To his surprise? He jumped like a snake had taken a bite.

She laughed, shaking in his arms, and charmed the shit out of him. "Oh, ha-ha-sorry?"

"Sorry. No. Nope. Keep going." Wet. Holy god. She was all sloppy kissing and sleepy eyes.

And she gasped, "Um-do the...swooping. A little."

"A little swooping?"

"A little."

He swooped. She clung, one hand trying to get under his belt and find the length of him. She gasped, feet dangling as he held her and kissed her brainless, "Remove this-this thing. The strap thing."

"My belt?"

"Yeah. Just...no belt. Let me...you know-swoop."

SHIT. He vibrated. She was speaking half in tongues, half in dazed madness - but he got the feeling she was asking to go down on him. In the elevator. Right now.

Proving he wasn't a complete fucking disgrace? He whispered, "Come to my room, Jill. Come upstairs with me. I'll do what I do all over you."

She nodded. She found him and wrapped her fist around him. He grunted, went half blind and retarded and-

The elevator doors pinged.

A handful of seconds to realize they were about to no longer be alone.

A handful of his cock in the fist of Jill Valentine.

His brain said: G^%BDFl&! Because it kinda wanted someone to come in and see that. Why not?

HE wanted to see it, feel it, smell and watch it. So why not?

But nope. NOPE. No. Because he wasn't a saint. He was mostly a sinner so bad that Sister Mary Francis at the fantastically awful Catholic school, Our Lady of Sorrows, had made clear when she'd stood him up in front of the class to write: I will not use my ruler to look up girls skirts on the chalkboard over and over in the sixth grade. But he wasn't a bastard.

He was still looking up girls skirts, so he wasn't a good guy either. But he wasn't a complete asshat.

He didn't want someone to catch her groping him. Which surprised him. Why? Since when did he care?

And Leon realized he liked her. He did. And he didn't want her getting caught with her hands all over him. God KNEW what would happen to her reputation. The double standard said he'd be just fine. But her? She'd be ostracized.

Finding her adorable. Playing her to see how far he'd get. All in good fun. But not at the risk of her career. He liked her, her fantastic ass aside, he didn't want to tank her rep in their profession.

He just wasn't that kind of guy.

He caught her hands, and whispered, "Wait, sweetheart, just a minute here. Ok? Trust me."

He pulled her clear of him, turned her, and put her beside him as they opened and at least seven of her coworkers got on.

Jill shivered, blinking.

Leon charmed. He laughed. He jested with the guys on the elevator. Jill stood frozen, staring, but it was ok. She was known in the organization as a cool fish anyway. So no one would care about that.

The elevator pinged, the men got off.

The doors closed and she whispered, a little hoarsely, "…thank you."

Now he just felt bad. He did. All joking aside. He didn't want her looking at him with regret like that. He wanted her looking at him, maybe all day and night for like a week until they were used up and dead from it, but not like he was bad news.

He nodded, staring at the doors and not at her, "Sure. I'll back off."

Surprised, she turned her head to him, "What?"

"I'll back off. Fun is one thing, and I like playing with fire as much as the next guy," He glanced at her face and her mouth, making her shiver with it, "But not at the risk of you getting burned here, Jill. I can withstand it. Hell, I'd probably get high fives all over the place for being the guy who tagged Jill Valentine in an elevator."

She blinked and nodded, watching something on his face she hadn't seen before. What was it? Intelligence, sure, and sex – that was there in his eyes too – but what was the other part?

What had Claire said? A good dude…just a man whore.

He stroked a thumb over her mouth and had her leaning into him for more.

To her surprise?

He set her away from him with a sigh of regret, "I'm an asshole, Jill." The doors pinged and he left her in the elevator to step off, "But I'm not a fucking asshole. Dancing around each other can be fun as hell, but not if you come out looking like a whore because of it. I'll back off."

"You'll-um-what? You'll back off?"

"Yep. I'll be professional."

"I-just-uh-wait—you'll—ok?"

"What you want right?"

The doors swished toward closing and she, flabbergasted and light-headed, stammered, "Y-yes? Yes? Do I?"

"Don't you?" He laughed lightly, he winked, and the doors swished closed on him.

He turned, sighing a little, and Claire was eyeing him with a tapping high heel near the alcove by his room.

Leon tilted his head, curious, "Sup?"

"Sup? Really? Sup? That's what you have to say for yourself?"

Amused, Leon keyed into his room and Claire followed, leaning in the doorway. "Out with it, Claire. I don't speak girl. So, spill the beans and beat it, would ya? I gotta get to the send-off thing."

"Jill is a good girl."

He paused, surprised, and turned to her. "I know that."

"Do you?"

These women and their do you's. The bane of his existence here. "I do."

"You do?"

"Don't I?"

She laughed, rolling her eyes, "Leave her alone, Leon. I mean it. She's sweet. She's professional as all hell. She's good at separating herself from it all. She doesn't hardly ever date. And she's not some little simpering cocktail waitress for you to bang and dump on a corner with cab money."

Annoyed now, he threw his jacket over the chair at the table in his suite, "I know that too. Back off here, Claire. I mean it. You're not my mother. And you're not hers either. She doesn't need you to protect her from me."

Claire eyed him, coolly, "Yes, she does. You're like some kind of running joke around here."

Well, shit, that was insulting. More than a little, "Am I? How so?"

"You look…like that. You clearly know it. You flirt with anything that breathes. You toss it around without any concern on Earth for who gets hurt. Mr. Super Spy Guy – James Fucking Bond of bioterror. Mr. Shaken Not Stirred and a different girl a night. Jill's not the type of girl to be your Octopussy, Double O Seven, I promise you."

Now he was just pissed. He jerked off his shoulder holster and threw it on the table with a clatter of sound, "Close the door, Claire. Now."

She did, snapping it shut. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him angrily.

"One – I'm good at my fucking job. I work harder than anybody in this fucking place to do it. I haven't had time to take a dump let alone a vacation in so long that I don't even remember what it feels like to not be nose to the grindstone." He jerked off his vest and added it to his jacket. The thing about Claire? She didn't care. He could be stark naked and she wouldn't care. "Two? I like her."

Claire narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, yeah. I like her. She's charming as hell. She's refreshing. After the gold digging, two-faced, double-crossing bitches I've come up against in this business? She's a fucking godsend. I'm a man, so I'm not dead, I've fucked plenty of bar skanks, you got me there because it's not like I have time to find a nice girl and get married and crank out a brood of brats."

She watched him, considering the truth of that.

"Instead? I get my five minutes on top of a warm body so that, just for a minute, I'm not so goddamn alone in it all. Is it P.C.? Does it make me a bad guy to admit it? Fine. I admit it. But we both know, in our business, you get your happiness in three-second intervals between one bloodbath and the next. So, do us both a favor, and don't stand over there judging me for finding a few minutes of it here. I'm not using anybody. I'm not trying to hurt her. I'm just…enjoying it. And her. And this. So, back the fuck off and leave it alone."

Claire stood quietly as he disappeared into his bedroom. She waited, thinking. She had to admit, here, in this moment, she was wrong. She was.

Again, she KNEW Kennedy was a good dude. She knew it. And he wasn't wrong on the lack of time and inclination to cultivate a real relationship in their business. But her protective instincts were still telling her to get in front of Jill and save her the crushing demise that awaited her at the end of this crazy flirtation of theirs.

He came out the bedroom in a pair of dark red swim trunks. Her hands went up to show herself unarmed when he shot her full of the evil death stare, "Ok. OK. I apologize. I'm sorry."

He threw his towel over the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring her down.

"Ok, Leon. I get it. I apologize alright? Jill's my friend. So are you. I see this going REALLY badly for her. I overreacted."

He shifted, sighing. He wasn't the type to stay mad for long. And he shook his head with a heavy sound, "It's fine. I kinda ended it in the elevator there for the same reason."

Curious, Claire arched her brows, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm not gonna soil her rep by groping her like a horny kid at a pool party, Claire. The flirting, it's the best I've felt in a long time, but it has limits here. And I won't torch her because I like to feel the fire of it. So, don't worry."

Yep. A good dude at the core of it.

Claire shifted, eyeing him. "Thank you. And for what it's worth?"

He lifted his brow at her.

"I'm sorry for before. I am. Bros?"

He laughed, lightly and had her grinning, "Naturally. But bros before hos, Claire. Remember that."

Claire chuckled and watched him move to his balcony. He leaned on it, he turned to scan the horizon, and his profile wasn't good natured at all. It wasn't happy or flirty or adorable.

It was just kinda sad.

And she wondered why she'd never bothered to pay attention that before. He was lonely. In their business, lonely was the only way to be. But he was feeling it.

What did he say? I like her, Claire. I like her.

Maybe she was pushing against the wrong tide here. Maybe she should be pushing them together instead. What if…he was GOOD for her?

She blinked, she considered it. What if he was good to Jill?

Why had she never considered that before?

What if he was just…all talk?

What if, under the flippant, flirting, winking and wandering eye, there was a guy looking for….a valentine?

She coughed. She laughed. And she kept on staring at his profile.

Because she was pretty sure…she was also kinda right.