Santana had always enjoyed having people notice her whenever she entered the room. It was a weird power rush, knowing that everyone wanted her and that people were jealous of her. There had to be a careful balance though. It was why she was generally careful picking her target. Lust was good, it was certainly easier to get what she wanted when people weren't thinking straight. People would do anything she asked just for her to consider spending the night with them. Jealousy in the right doses could also be used to her advantage, they made mistakes, they said too much, generally giving her information that they weren't supposed to. That type of power over people was exhilarating in its own way. She was a thief, that didn't mean that she couldn't' use every last one of her gifts to her advantage. She was so used to people throwing themselves at her and yet some dumbass cop hadn't fallen for it.

It infuriated her to no end that Charlie hadn't even bothered to look for more than a few seconds, and hadn't been impressed. Then again what did Charlie know? She was after all nothing more than a dumbass cop who was addicted to donuts and dressed badly and smelled like stale coffee. Charlie didn't even know how to dress herself, and she constantly had powdered sugar on her clothes—which looked suspiciously like crack.

And yet here she was trying to impress the dumbass cop. She shouldn't even be doing this, giving into Charlie's demands and yet here she was doing just that. She wasn't quite used to wearing something this muted and it felt slightly conservative, even though Brittany had given her a dry look and told her to tone it down some more. She was ignoring Brittany, she wasn't a nun and she had fantastic legs she was going to show them off and if she wanted to show off her cleavage then she'd show off her damn cleavage. If her mate was a prude on top of everything else, she wasn't going to continue this charade.

Santana sighed and looked around the car and ran her hand over the seats, and then leaned forward and tapped on the separator. The dark glass separating the front and the back seat slowly slid down, and Brittany tilted her head to look at her. "I miss my car Britt, why couldn't we take it again?"

"You can't have sex in your car Santana, duh." Brittany shook her head.

There was no chance of her having sex tonight not in the backseat, not with Brittany nearby and certainly not with her date for the evening. "Why didn't I say no to this?" Santana asked as they drove to Charlie's apartment.

Brittany hummed and smiled at Santana, "Because she's your mate, and you secretly like getting under her skin and watching her get frustrated. Plus, you mentioned something about trying to find out what she knew about Snixx."

"Right, it'll help me keep ahead of law enforcement," Santana said and leans back in her chair as they pull up to Charlie's apartment complex. She exhales and looks down at her dress smoothing it out. It was incredibly conservative by her standards. Charlie had better appreciate the effort that she had gone through to please her. She had better have made the same amount of effort. She was wearing a dress that went down to her knees, and it covered her chest completely. This was something she'd wear for work not for a night out. She sighed.

Brittany hummed and looked at her, "Santana, it'll be fine. We're connected so I'll keep in contact with you all night and help you if you get stuck and remind you to stay away from your crazy place. Now remember, what the great Nicki Minaj sang—"

"Brittany. No. None of that. I'm not sleeping with her, I'll probably be covered in sugar by the end of the night." Santana said rolling her eyes.

"Kinky." Brittany says back and turns to look at Santana who had groaned. "You're going to be late for your reservation Santana you should probably go get her."

Santana was about to grumble and do what she was told, she should have insisted that Charlie pick her up in a decent car, but she had a feeling that Charlie would have shown up in a cop car just to make a point. She was about to get out when she stopped as Charlie exited the apartment block and Santana tilted her head. So, Charlie had put in some effort, she's about to smile pleased but she can see Brittany watching her and she sniffs indignantly. "There's probably some powdered sugar on her somewhere."

"You totally think she's hot," Brittany squealed before containing herself.

Santana rolled her eyes, "I do not," she muttered under her breath and motioned for Brittany to slide the separator up before she opens the door. She moves inwards so Charlie can enter the car and she glances at her. "Oh look, you do know what a tailor does. I suppose you won't be needing this then. It was just for emergencies of course," Santana said pointing to the paper bag that contained a spare change of clothes.

Charlie flushed at this and was about to retort when she heard Rachel in her ear. She didn't even know why she had agreed to this nonsense. Using NYPD resources just so she wouldn't screw up.

'Charlie don't you dare insult her. You're going to be pleasant, smile and tell her how pretty she looks. She probably looks beautiful.'

Charlie forced a smile onto her lips though she had a few strong words for Santana. Santana had no idea the horrors that she had personally gone through or the pain. Or the mockery, or the laughing—she just had no clue. "You look nice Santana, really you do. It's good to see that you took my advice and you realized that you don't need brand names to hide behind."

It's probably the first time that Charlie's ever complimented her in anyway and she's about to take it when she realizes that it's a backhanded compliment and she's infuriated by it. "I am not hiding anything. I like wearing the clothes that I wear, I like wearing designer clothing. Just like you're wearing—" Santana glances at the subtle plaid number. She frowned ever so slightly, she didn't know who did the suit, but she knew there was no way that Charlie had just walked in and walked back out. She did recognize quality. "Did you go out and get yourself a personalized tailored suit? No that's way outside your budget—you borrowed the suit from your twin sister, didn't you?"

Charlie flushed at this and looked out the window. "It doesn't matter where I got the suit from," Charlie said after a moment.

"Exactly my point," Santana says, her point proven, she can't help the smug smile on her face. Which only grows a bit wider when Charlie scowls at her. She doesn't like to lose by the looks of it but it's her own fault for trying to make such a big deal out of nothing.

'San, don't gloat. You two are mates. Just be nice to her. Ask her why she wanted to be a cop, or about her family. Or kiss her. You should totes kiss her!'

"I am not kissing her," Santana hisses and she realizes that Charlie's turned to look at her like she's crazy. Santana closes her eyes, she hasn't made that mistake in a long time. "So, I met your sister, any other family?"

Charlie's nose crinkles, her mate is clearly insane and she studies her for a long moment not sure what she expects, "I have two sisters. One's an identical twin, the other is well older by a few years. I have two parental units as well—are you sure you don't want to just kiss me?" Charlie asks a slow smile crossing her face. She had won, Santana found her irresistible.

'Charlie Fabray, she just asked you about your family. Etiquette dictates that you should do the same. Politely, manners are important Charlie. You don't want her to think you were raised in a barn."

Charlie twitched at this, wondering why she was listening to Rachel anyway. "What about your family?" Charlie asked.

Santana studied Charlie for a moment. "My family, my parents are retired and living in Arizona, trying to convince me to visit them." It had become worse now that Brittany had called them and informed them bluntly that Santana had a mate. She was sure her parents were going to fly up just to see her. There was an awkward silence that fell between them as the conversation lulled. "So, why'd you become a cop? Couldn't you have done something else? Like a firefighter. Everyone likes firefighters."

"Probably the same reason you chose to be an art broker," Charlie said with a shrug.

Santana frowns at this statement, "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked testily.

Charlie holds up her hands, she hadn't meant to offend. "It means that you probably went to school for art, maybe you were a painter, maybe you did art history. Either way you like your job, you certainly like the perks that it gives you even if you hate most of your clients. You like what you do. It's good to have a passion and enjoy your job."

Santana softened a bit at this, she did like her job and she was surprised that Charlie even noticed these things, maybe she wasn't such a terrible detective either. She paused for a second, she didn't want Charlie to be good at her job. She was a detective on her case and she didn't want to go to prison. "So why a cop, it's dangerous, you don't a lot of respect. Like I said if you wanted to help people you could have become a firefighter."

"I like the law, but I really did want to make a difference," Charlie said with a shrug. "I think I do good work. I like to make sure that the evidence supports my theories, and I hope that I haven't locked away anyone innocent."

'Are you not going to tell her that you, decided to rebel against our father and decided to shoot yourself by not practicing law? There are a million ways that you could have made a difference with your degree but—'

'Quinn give me that, you're not allowed to use it you're not trained!'

"I suppose that makes sense, but why focus on Snixx. If you really want to make a difference shouldn't you be focusing on the people who are breaking into stores? Robbing houses? You know actually terrorizing people instead of just stealing from people who have far too much money and simply want something as a sign of their wealth. I thought you wanted to make a difference?" Santana asked.

"There are politics everywhere. The mayor has donors that he has to answer to and he decides who the police chief is. So, if someone who society deems important, simply based on the amount of money they have in the bank or the fact that they can play sports or sing really well, makes a call to the mayor. The mayor then decides to talk to the police chief, the police chief then places a call to my captain. My captain then decides to make life hell. But—I don't think that it's a victimless crime. Art is supposed to evoke emotions, it's supposed to mean things to all sorts of different people. I don't like the idea of keeping it in some place where only the rich can afford to look at it. What about the next kid who wants to get inspired? I do believe it belongs in a gallery somewhere."

"You like art?" Santana said squinting at Charlie who hummed.

"I minored in art history. I don't—I can't draw to save my life, I don't have the talent or the patience to be an artist. But I loved the history, the culture, knowing why an artist chose to make the decisions that they made. To see what they poured their soul into—it's inspiring." Charlie hummed.

'Aww—' Charlie discretely brushed a strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear and removed the earpiece. She was done with the both of them. She knew how to talk to women, and their advice was terrible.

Santana flicked her eyes studying Charlie for a moment, well that was a surprise. "You know your sister said something similar when I sold her a piece earlier."

"You mean when she came to check you out and wish you luck?" Charlie asked.

Santana laughed at this, "Hardly, your sister gave me her deepest sympathies. Rachel on the other hand said that you were tolerable most days. I can see the tolerable part. Who knows you might start growing on me like a fungus."

'Santana! Apologize! Words hurt and you probably hurt her feelings!' Santana shook her head when Charlie snorted at her statement and pulled out her earpiece discretely. She couldn't pretend to be someone who she wasn't with her mate. She wasn't built for long cons like this, making Charlie fall in love with her was a safer bet.

~ O ~

Charlie bit her lip, why Quinn had insisted on Masa when Quinn knew she didn't particularly care for seafood was beyond her. Raw seafood was the worst, and while she could ask for it to be cooked, she didn't want to look like one of those people. Santana did seem to be enjoying the food and the sake was good. She didn't like caviar, she didn't particularly like the miso soup either and she knew she was being picky. But she liked sweet things. She had a sweet tooth—and she really hadn't had any sugar today. The food was lovely she just didn't like seafood. She picked at the nigiri, it smelled good and it didn't have that fishy smell that she was so used to whenever people who she worked with brought in cheap sushi.

Santana flicked her eyes to her date for the night, the food was simply amazing and it definitely bought into the hype, but for some reason Charlie didn't seem to be enjoying it as much as she should be. She probably wasn't used to eating such rich food. "You okay there Sherlock?"

Charlie took a sip of her sake and flushed, for four hundred dollars she should be eating that didn't make her feel that great. "I'm not a big fan of seafood," Charlie admits honestly as she forces herself to take another bite and smiles at Santana. "It's fine though—I'm enjoying the sake."

Santana stares at Charlie and looks around, "Then why'd you choose Masa?"

"I didn't, Quinn gave me her reservation. She's a regular. All those important business clients. I'm not a fish person—this isn't my thing. I mean the food is lovely, and it's certainly better than the cheap stuff that the guys bring in, trying to impress me. But not a fish person." Charlie flicked her eyes to Santana.

"No, you're a donut person," Santana said as she dabbed her lips.

"There is nothing wrong with having a sweet tooth," Charlie snipped at Santana. "It's not all I eat, it's just what I eat when I'm at work. I need to have something that I can take on the go with me at all times. Donuts are easy to carry around and they're delicious, and I work long hours so they go great with coffee."

Santana stared at Charlie, it made sense in its own way, but it really did sound like an excuse. "You've put a lot of thought into having a readymade excuse, haven't you?" Charlie flashed her an amused smile and she shook her head. "Alright let's pay for dinner and let's go somewhere that you like."

"Its fine Santana, I'm okay with this—honestly I am. You're enjoying yourself—" Charlie began.

"I was, until I found out that you hated seafood, so pay and take me somewhere that you want to go—that doesn't serve donuts. At least you were willing to go to a place that you don't like to impress me even if it made you completely uncomfortable. Now that this portion of the date is done, if you're still hungry then I'm sure there's a place nearby that you'd like to go to."

Charlie thought about it for a moment. Santana was offering, and she really didn't know if she could stomach eating more of this, even for the price she was paying. "I know this place nearby—it's a bit of a dive but it has really good burgers and fries. Like it's really good."

Santana studied Charlie for a moment, and shook her head for a second. "Alright, then." She said opening her clutch to get the money to pay for the meal.

Charlie was quicker motioning for the waiter and fishing her hands in her pockets to pull out a thin wallet where she pulled out a credit card and handed it to the waiter. "I told you, it's my treat."

"Can you even afford this on a cop's salary?" Santana said. "You didn't even like the food."

"Yes, well that was my fault not yours," Charlie says. It's not like she can't afford it, sure she'd be dipping into her trust a bit so she could pay it off but she always put the money back. "Next time I won't let Quinn have a say."

"Next time?" Santana asks and Charlie turns to her. "That's awfully presumptuous of you." Charlie looks at her and she smiles. She's teasing. Being near Charlie isn't as painful as she thought it would be, they had talked about art for most of the night and it seemed Charlie had forgotten to ask her about Snixx.

Charlie rolls her eyes, "Do you want to call your car back, I mean we could always walk. It really isn't that far and you're wearing sensible heels."

Santana scowled at her, "I can walk in six-inch heels, you on the other hand I imagine that anything higher than those two-inch heels you're wearing and you're on your face. We'll walk." She really didn't want to deal with Brittany's smugness.