Harolt and Lucille walked slowly together, arm in arm.

"What do you want to do tonight?" the brown haired man asked his companion. Lucille looked up at him and gave him a toothy grin in answer.

"Before bedtime," he clarified with a laugh. "We do need to have dinner and the like first."

"Psh." She waved a dismissive hand. "We can both eat behind closed doors."

Harolt chortled and bumped her shoulder with his affectionately. Lucille giggled and clung tighter to his arm.

Suddenly, Harolt's Echo gave a soft, demanding trill. He tapped it to bring up his HUD and see who was interrupting his date.

Azrae.

Beside him, his red headed lover gave him an unsure smile.

"Work calling? I understand if you need to take a raincheck on tonight." She patted his arm, but he could see the disappointment on her face as she tried to hide it.

"Nah." He selected the ignore option and spun her into his embrace, tucking her close. "Work can wait."

A delighted grin broke out across Lucille's face as he leaned down and kissed her deeply.

From within the sanctity of their hideout, Azrae frowned irritably when her call went unanswered.

/

/

"Alexander," Rueben stated flatly.

"Rueben," Alexander replied cheerily. The gun designer's manager sighed, tapping a pen on the document in front of him.

"It's that time, Alexander," Rueben informed him.

"Time to redesign our workstations?" Alexander asked excitedly. "You came to the right man! Cause let me tell you, those things are as unsightly as they are non-ergonomic. I've already got some new ideas for colors and patterns that will be really warm and welcoming and—"

"It's time for reviews, Alexander," Rueben cut in.

"Oh." Alexander pouted in disappointment.

"As per the norm, I went ahead and did a cursory run through of the review," Rueben continued, "and frankly, Alexander, I'm not impressed with your scoring."

"Oh?" Alexander leaned forward curiously, not sounding the least bit concerned. "Do tell!"

"Your quality of work, when you do turn it in, is fantastic, but more often than not, Lucille or Nadalie turns in their own work with yours included. You slack off on your job duties, you follow instructions to the bare letter, you never follow through with your tasks, and you meet deadlines at the very last possible minute. The only area you scored well in was customer service, and we don't care about that in the lab."

"Oh, you absolutely need customer service in the lab! After all, when something goes wrong, they're going to want to talk to someone in a white lab coat. Which is super drab, by the by. Can we change the color?"

Alexander waited just long enough for Rueben to take a breath to start to answer before he continued.

"As for your other issues, well, that's just because you don't understand what my actual job duties are."

"I'm sorry," Rueben protested, sounding more confused than apologetic. "What? I'm your boss. I absolutely understand your essential job functions. You're a gun designer who rarely, if ever, designs guns."

Alexander drew in his breath through his teeth, making a hissing sound.

"See, Rueben, that's where you're wrong."

Rueben blinked at his employee blankly.

"What?"

"You remember how when the three of us first met in that lab down there, you were so mad about Nadie joining the team that you told us to figure our own assignment out, and that you didn't care anymore?"

"Yes…" the manager agreed cautiously.

"Well, we did that."

"Yes, you did. Lucille took on mod design, Nadalie handled construction, and you decided on gun design."

"Yeah, see, Rueben, that's the thing. Those titles were really only to make you happy." Alexander folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair, his expression pleasant, but gaze locked with the other man's. "Between Lucille's intimate understanding of all things mod related, and Nadie's inability to not put her hands on any project that she arbitrarily labels 'interesting,' you don't actually need me to be a gun designer. I am, in reality, a catalyst, a vessel constructed to bring out the best in your employees."

"What the hell are you going on about?" Rueben demanded, perplexed not only by Alexander's defense of himself, but also by the deadly serious tone in the gun designer's voice.

"I'm a wrangler, Rueben. I play silly to keep morale up, I push against the rules to keep Lucille and Nadie within them and following them so they keep me in line, and I make sure that by slacking off, they push themselves to the limits of their abilities." Alexander leaned forward and tapped the review. "As much as you say I push things to the last minute, the fact of the matter is that I've never missed one deadline, not once. I am always aware of my timelines, and when Nadie and Luci are too overwhelmed to be pushed any further, I take the excess off them and keep them laughing and happy. In short, I'm not a gun designer. I'm a morale officer. I'm the warden of the lab. I keep everything in working order and make sure it doesn't blow apart."

The manager just sat and stared at the abnormally somber and businesslike man across from him, no longer sure he knew his employee.

"How the… I can't tell this to my boss," Rueben finally sighed.

"You could tell him I'm the office mascot," Alexander offered helpfully, the chipper personality immediately bubbling around the blonde haired man once more. Rueben just studied him for a long moment, no longer fooled by the act. Then, he took up his pen and went down the review, marking the "meets expectations" in every category. Alexander beamed.

"Was that so hard?"

"Get out of my office, Alexander."

"Yes, sir."

/

/

"So?" Rob asked hopelessly as his two architects and room designers came in.

"It was a bit of a rush job, but we got it done," one of them, a swarthy fellow named Davon, replied. "Seriously, that was a huge list of demands to get done in a week."

"Is it finished?" Rob demanded.

"Yes."

"Then I don't care."

"Hey, Rob," the other, a fair man named Otto, piped up. "Since we did all this work last minute, can we stay to watch? We're sorta curious about why this woman would want all these changes done on such short notice. She must be quite the high roller to get this type of treatment."

Rob stared hard at them for a moment and then sighed. He hadn't told them who had ordered the changes; he had just handed them the list and sent them on the way. What assumptions they had come to were their own to keep. He wasn't going to correct them.

"Sure. Stay. I'm sure if things don't go according to plan, someone's going to want to talk to you."

"Neat!" Otto exclaimed. He nodded to his partner who stepped back out the door and returned a moment later with two chairs and a bowl of popcorn. Rueben frowned.

"Came prepared, didn't you?

"We were curious," Davon responded. "If you hadn't let us, we were just going to hack into the feed anyway."

"Aaah, I didn't hear that, I didn't hear that!" Rob protested emphatically, waving his hands as if to ward off an attack. He turned away from the two designers and brought up the live feed on his computer screen. No one was currently in the room.

"There you go. Make yourself comfortable."

"What? You're leaving, Rob? I thought you usually kept an eye on these meetings. What happened to all that paranoia about the actors being up to snuff?"

"I don't want to see my death coming before it hits," Rob answered morosely. Davon patted him on the back.

"This woman can't be that scary. Stay with us! We can make fun of them like we used to do in the old days back when the Hero Hour was just getting started."

"Believe me, Davon, there's nothing funny about this meeting tonight."

"Goodness, you've lost your sense of humor since the divorce," Otto observed. Rob shot him an angry look.

"Watch it."

"Sorry, sorry," the pale skinned man soothed quickly. "Was just teasing."

Rob's lips thinned as he stared at him for a long moment before he sighed once more and set himself up in his chair in the corner, leaving the two architects the full view of the recreated room on the screen. Otto and Davon settled into their chairs to watch the show unfold.

"Sure you don't want to come closer?" Davon prompted. "We'll share our popcorn."

"No, thank you."

"Your loss."

Meanwhile, Nadie had arrived at the Hero Hour not quite sure what to expect from the night. The last two weeks had not gone even close to plan and if she knew anything about the man she was here to see, tonight would be no different. Considering the flirtation and effect he had on her, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to face him at all, but the idea of not showing up as scheduled felt too much like running away for the prideful Pandoran girl. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and headed in.

"Good evening, Leanne!" Nadie hailed. The receptionist jolted and turned to regard the gunsmith.

"Oh, hello, Miss Tirrell! Welcome back!"

Nadie eyed the matronly woman.

"Leanne, is everything all right?"

"Oh! Yes, yes, everything's fine." She beamed happily at the green haired woman. When Nadie continued to stare at her, Leanne's defenses crumbled.

"Ok, ok. It's Rob. I'm worried about him."

"Your manager?" Nadie drew closer to her desk, pitching her voice low. There was no one in the waiting area, but there was no need to take chances.

"Yeah… He's been really morose recently and he's been tucking up in his office with a bottle of whiskey for the last couple of weeks. I even called HR to try and get an intervention or see what they could do to help, and they told me there was nothing they can do! Isn't stepping in what HR's supposed to do?"

Nadie nodded a little.

"Among other things. What do you think it is?"

"I dunno," Leanne admitted. "I've been guessing it's trouble at home, but he won't tell me anything. The only thing he says is he'll be happy when this is all over, whatever that might mean."

"I don't know what to tell you, Leanne. I'm afraid I don't have any insider knowledge."

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you to, Miss Tirrell. But you've been here so much, you're family now. So you should be in the know."

"Awww, why thank you! You know you can count on me if you need help with something."

"Friends make the world go round!" Leanne replied easily. "And speaking of friends, I bet you're antsy to meet yours." She handed over a key. Nadie took it and grinned.

"Friends and money!"

Leanne laughed.

"Yes indeed. See you in about an hour, Miss Tirrell."

Nadie headed into the back and toward the room she had spent more time in than she had ever expected to. When Alexander had dragged her to this event, she had figured she would bite her lip, get through it, and then never talk about it again. She had never thought she would find something that would catch her interest.

Then there were the last two weeks… She didn't know who this Handsome Jack double was, and she didn't know why he affected her so, but something about him kept her coming back for more even when she knew it was far wiser to run. The prior actor she had been visiting with had caught her attention. This man had captured her fascination.

And her libido, if she was honest with herself.

She unlocked the door to the room she was always in, stepped inside, and immediately froze, looking around her with an astonished gaze.

The room had been completely overhauled. One wall had been knocked out so that the neighboring room could be added to the floorplan, and one of the comfy chairs had been replaced by a plush-looking loveseat. A fireplace had been installed against one wall, and while no fire crackled in it currently, it looked like it was meant to host a cheery blaze. Tucked toward the back was a circular bed draped in silken sheets and soft blankets that were just begging to have fingers woven in. Even the small table that typically held refreshments had been touched, as it now boasted a wine bottle she wouldn't even hazard a guess at the cost of.

"Sweet cheeks!" Handsome Jack greeted as he came into the room. Nadie didn't think she had ever heard someone sound so pleased with themselves.

"Uh… You know I didn't check that box, right?" she questioned, looking around the room worriedly.

"Oh, I know, babe," he responded easily. "I did."

She turned to stare at him in bewilderment for a moment.

"I'm… I'm pretty sure that's not how this works," she protested weakly. He chuckled.

"It does when you're the president of the company. Now," he continued, giving her a wicked grin, "are you going to come in, or are you going to run for the hills?"

She frowned at the implication.

"I'm not going to run."

"Good. I didn't feel like chasing you down the hall." He went to the table, popped the cork on the wine bottle, and poured two glasses. Once filled, he handed one to her.

"Drink. Relax. I promise I won't bite. Unless you ask nicely," he added. A smirk quirked her lips as she took the offered wine glass.

"Only if I ask?" she inquired, trying, and failing, to keep the amusement off her face. He paused to think about it for a moment before he shrugged and smiled innocently.

"Well, ask, beg, scream… I'll take a request from you in any format, really."

She couldn't help it—she started chuckling.

"Good to know I don't have to stay level-headed if I don't want to."

"Sweet cheeks," he purred, taking her free hand and tugging her close, "I don't want you thinking straight for the rest of the night."

A squeak escaped her as she found herself pulled up against him, his face a scant few inches from hers.

"I do have this tendency to try and be analytical or sensible about almost everything," she informed him as she gently moved back, putting some breathing room between them once more. Handsome Jack gave her a sidelong smirk as he let her retreat.

"You don't say… I'd never have noticed."

She tried to frown, an effort spoiled by the grin that wouldn't go away and pointed a finger at him.

"There's no need to be sarcastic with me, mister. It's already been well-established that I'm one of those hard-working, never takes any risks kind of people."

His brows rose.

"You say that, and yet you've put your finger in the face of the president of Hyperion," he observed dryly in amusement. They stared at each other, then looked down at the offending digit. She dropped her hand grudgingly.

"Foo. Fine. Be that way."

"No, no," he retorted, giving her a grin full of teeth. "Put it back. Be my guest. See what happens."

"Naaah, I don't think I'm feeling that adventurous," she sniffed teasingly. She plopped down in the loveseat and smiled brightly up at him. He shook his head in response.

"Just don't let that be the motto for the evening, babe. I've got so much planned."

"So much?" she repeated, gaze going to the bed. He followed her look and laughed.

"I'm not going to just drag you to bed immediately, sweet cheeks. Unless you want it that way." His grin promised a litany of carnal delights. She giggled, but shook her head.

"No, I'm not that kind of girl. And I'm not sorry about it." She tipped her nose up in mock haughtiness, daring him to condemn her for it. His grin softened, but he chuckled.

"You've been a fight since the beginning, babe. I'd be disappointed if you made it easy now."

"If there's one thing I'll never be," she replied, "it's easy."

"Well, then. Let the challenge begin." He held his hands up and clapped them twice, each strike a small burst of sound in the following quiet of the room. Music spiraled up into existence and the lights of the room dimmed, creating a soft and intimate atmosphere.

"There we… go?" he began, but the statement finished as a question as the lights swelled back up to full brightness. He looked up at them and scowled. As if in response to the expression of irritation, the lights dimmed back down again.

"That's better," he said with a nod, a gesture cut short when the lighting once more bloomed back to full. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"What the hell?"

Nadie couldn't help the quiet giggles that struck her at his peeved tone.

"At least the music is behaving," she offered as the lights dimmed again.

In his office, Rob turned to stare pointedly at Otto and Davon.

"I thought you said the room was finished."

"I said it was a rush job," Davon retorted. "Ok, so the lighting is having some hiccups. No big deal. The girl seems more amused than angry."

Rob rubbed one of his temples.

"That's not the problem here…"

"A'ight, a'ight, enough of that," Handsome Jack grumbled. He clapped his hands twice and the lighting stopped its slow pulses and the music went silent. Nadie opened her mouth to say something, but he held up one finger.

"Hold that thought, babe."

He all but stalked over to the light switch, pushed the knob down to manually dim the lights, and then went to the player to turn it back on. The soft music filtered back into the room once more. He studied the room for a moment, as if daring anything to misbehave. The music kept crooning gently and the lights remained in their dim state.

"There," he said, nodding decisively. "It may be the old fashioned way to do it, but it works."

"Except you're missing something," Nadie pointed out. When he regarded her quizzically, she asked, "Where are the candles? I mean, if we're talking legitimately old fashioned…"

He let a mock sigh, lacing it with as much exasperation as he could manage.

"My goodness, but you're demanding."

She laughed brightly and leaned back in the loveseat, settling herself in comfortably.

"Hey, I'm not the one futzing with the lighting to get it just right," she retorted, grinning.

"Everything has to be perfect," he replied primly. "And if it isn't perfect, someone's getting shot out of a canon at the Warrior."

In his office, Rob began to sweat. The architects chuckled in amusement.

"This guy is good," Otto remarked. "He's got the personality down perfectly. Is that Greg? He was always the best."

"No," Rob replied wearily. "That isn't Greg."

"Well, kudos on finding this guy. He's perfect!"

The Hero Hour's manager just groaned.

"Now, babe, I know you think men who cook are sexy, but you clearly haven't heard the sensual sound of the saxophone." He reached down to the arm of the remaining comfy chair and pressed something on the armrest. A soft click sounded, just barely audible over the music, and he stood, holding his hand out expectantly. A moment of silence followed, and then there was an odd hiss before fire burst into vibrant life in the fireplace, lashing forth from the hearth for a heartbeat before settling back in its confines.

"The hell?!" Handsome Jack demanded crossly. Nadie recoiled in surprise and then uncurled, laughing.

"Well, yes, that definitely will get me hot and bothered!"

He turned from regarding the blaze like it was personally responsible for everything going wrong and gave her a bitterly amused smirk.

"Fire's what gets you going, huh? You sure you aren't the child of a rocket launcher?"

She grinned.

"Do I look like I have any hard edges on me?"

She followed the question with a gesture at the length of her body. The light flirtation and open invitation to enjoy the view brought a smile to his face, for the moment chasing away the anger that had been starting to twist his expression.

"You certainly look all curves, sweet cheeks, but I think I'd need to put them to the test." He took two long steps to stand by the bed before turning toward her smoothly, holding a hand out in invitation.

"I know you've been dying to come try out the sheets," he offered teasingly. She bit her lip, trying to fight off a grin.

"I have not."

"Oh, babe, don't lie to me. You've been eyeing them ever since you came into the room. I promise, they won't disappoint." As if to make a point, he stomped his foot by the side of the bed. She quirked a brow when the moment stretched for longer than it should, and then his face collapsed into sheer frustration.

"Can those assholes not get anything right?!"

Nadie took a breath to answer, and then paused, cocking her head to the side.

"Do you hear that?"

Handsome Jack looked at her irritably.

"Hear what?"

Before she could answer, a low whirring whine sounded, and then part of the wall slid aside to allow a metallic object to jettison at high speed out and slam into the seat he had been beside earlier. The saxophone hit the chair with such force that the seat flipped back and over.

"Good heavens," Nadie whistled. "I'm glad you weren't standing there."

Whatever humor or intent he had started with, it was all forgotten in the rage that took Hyperion's president.

"That's it," he said, each word enunciated calmly, but Nadie could see the violence strung tight in his form. "They are all going out of the canon."

In his office, Rob whimpered. Davon and Otto, meanwhile, were laughing uproariously.

"I was wondering if we got the activation list mixed up," Davon observed, unable to restrain his chortles.

"Damn, Davon, you wired that sax to come out like a shotput," Otto responded, wiping tears out of his eyes.

"Yeah, I may have gone a bit overboard on the velocity…"

"You guys have no idea what you've just done to yourselves," Rob informed them gloomily.

"Oh, that is such an angry face," Nadie cooed gently. She unfurled from the loveseat and crossed the distance to him, catching his hand before settling down on the bed. A light tug was all he needed before he grudgingly sat down beside her.

"This was supposed to go perfectly," he growled. "This was supposed to be romantic and sweep you off your feet."

"Don't fuss," she soothed, rubbing her thumb across the top of his hand. "This has been a comedy of errors, which has been hilarious."

He rolled his gaze toward her, not looking the slightest bit mollified.

"Look, cards on the table. You got my complete attention by being able to keep up with me, but it's your sense of humor that kept me coming back. If all this," and she gestured to the room, "had gone according to plan, I probably would have run by now. So, all in all, it's probably… just… as… Good heavens, these sheets are amazing!" She looked down at the bed, running her free hand across the silk, completely distracted from what she had been saying.

"I told you," he said idly, the corner of his lip curling upward slightly.

"Wow…" She released his hand and ran both palms across the blankets. "These are nice."

Her astonishment made him smile.

"Well, if you're going to spend an extended period of time in bed, you might as well be comfortable," he told her, her wonder at simple luxuries distracting him from the frustrations of the room's failures. "I had a hunch you might appreciate these." He patted the bed twice. At the second pat, there was a soft whir of machinery, a few clicks followed by a low hum, and then the bed began slowly turning to their left. Both of them blinked in surprise and then Nadie stared down at the bed while Handsome Jack just looked skyward.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

The gunsmith burst into laughter. He patted the bed once, twice, and then thrice, trying to get it to stop moving. The only reaction he got was at two raps, which caused the bed to start spinning lazily the other way.

"Figures. Fucking figures."

Nadie couldn't help herself; she dropped back on the bed, giggling uncontrollably. He rubbed a hand over his face.

"I have a couple of designers I need to murder," he stated, a hard edge in his voice. The gunsmith gulped down a breath to stifle her laughter, recognizing the vehemence in his threat.

"Don't be angry," she assuaged, pushing herself upright again.

"Oh no, babe, you aren't talking me out of it this time," he growled. "Everyone responsible for this travesty is going to die."

"It's not all bad," she assured him, patting his arm. "I mean, I'm still here and nothing blew up catastrophically and… How the hell do you stop this bed?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, sweet cheeks."

"That's it." He watched as she rolled over and crawled toward the side of the bed that was currently closest to the wall before bending over it, hunting for her prize. After a moment and then a cry of triumph, she tugged the bed's power cord out of its socket. The bed immediately ceased its slow rotation.

"There we go." She sat back up and beamed at him. "Taken care of."

It was clear he was still fuming, but a smirk was tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I didn't necessarily want it to stop."

Nadie huffed and frowned. "What? Hell. Do you want me to plug it back in? Really?"

"If it gives you an excuse to lean over the bed so I get to watch your ass again, sure."

A bought of laughter surprised her and she dropped the cord off the side of the bed.

"Nice try, Jack."

He grinned, the dark mood spoiled by the flirtation. "Can't blame a guy for enjoying the finer sights of life, can you?"

She pointed at him and chuckled. "Ah, there it is! That's your real smile, isn't it?" She crawled back over to sit beside him again. "I like it."

His brows crooked up in surprise before that grin softened into something more satisfied.

"I knew you were worth the trouble."

Before she could respond, he slid a hand around the back of her head and tugged her close to kiss her.

In more private moments when she allowed her mind to wander to trivialities or more selfish thoughts, she had wondered what it might be like to be kissed by the man who perpetually wore his mask.

As it turned out, it wasn't unpleasant.

It was definitely not what she had expected, and the mask had a more firm texture than human skin might have, but it responded flawlessly to its wearer's desires. His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her closer to him, and she melted into the kiss. Her fingers tangled in his shirt as he kissed her deeply, taking long moments to indulge in the contact. A gasp escaped her when he pulled away as she tried to get a breath in and she was granted only a few heartbeats' reprieve before he scooped her up and pulled her against him more fully to reclaim her lips.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, but when he finally released her, she found herself in his lap, her thighs on either side of his hips, his hands cupping her ass.

"My goodness…" she managed out, trying to slow her thundering heart. Her forehead dropped to hit his shoulder and she felt more than heard the chuckle that rumbled through him.

"I know, babe. It's a consequence of being me. Women just go weak in the knees at the sight of me."

She laughed and pushed herself up to meet his gaze.

"It's that whole 'man of wealth and power' thing. Ah!" A squeak escaped her as his hands slid up under her shirt to cup her breasts.

"That was a good sound, yes?" he inquired as he sat up and nipped her lower lip.

"Hoo… You certainly are quick to take what you want, aren't you?" she replied, chuckling breathlessly.

"What can I say?" That malicious grin was back. "I'm used to getting what I want. I am Handsome Jack, after all."

She smiled and shook her head. "You don't have to keep telling me that, you know. I know you're not Handsome Jack."

"Oh, you misunderstand me, babe. I'm not one of these paltry actors attempting to grasp at the awe-inspiring charisma that is me. I am the Handsome Jack."

Nadie almost laughed at how preposterous the idea was, but she caught herself at the last moment. It made far too much sense, actually. From his flippant disregard of her instructions about former conversations to the magnitude and meaning of the room they were currently in, it was almost impossible to not believe the sincerity in his voice and the seriousness on his face. It was as if someone had blatantly thrown a screen in front of her vision with his name and title, establishing beyond any doubt who he was.

Otto and Davon, still watching the live feed, coughed on their popcorn and turned slowly to look at the Hero Hour manager.

"Is… is he really?" Davon asked.

Rob only nodded, still wearing an expression that bespoke his impending doom.

"Oh. Um," Otto stammered. "Meet you in Lynchwood?" he asked, turning to the first, only to see the seat was already empty.

"Good luck!" Davon called as he hit the door.

"Bye, Rob. Hope to see you again." Then Otto was out of the room.

Rob sighed deeply and took one of their chairs to continue watching the scene that was going to tell him if he needed to finish writing his will or not.

"You…" Nadie started and had to stop long enough to form some collection of words to make into a sentence. "Oh. What are you doing here? With me?"

"I wanted to meet my girlfriend."

"I'm sorry. What?"

He chuckled. "Oh right, you aren't up on the background of this endeavor. The Hour manager… Ryan or Randall or whatever…"

"Rob?" she supplied.

"Sure, something like that. Anyway, he is the one who brought you to my attention. Apparently you were being selective about whose company you spent time in, so I just offered my services to make sure your needs were met."

"Uh-huh," she replied slowly, smirking. "You were worried about my satisfaction." Her tone made it very clear how much she believed it. He shrugged a shoulder in acknowledgement and grinned impishly.

"Well, that and I had been having a pretty crappy month and thought it might be fun to panic an employee and meddle in the affairs of a beautiful woman."

She shook her head.

"No wonder Rob's been drinking. Have you been tormenting him since the beginning?"

"Not tormenting, babe," Handsome Jack protested. "Keeping him on his toes. And frankly, after his involvement in this fiasco, he might be meeting the Warrior at high speeds." He frowned irritably.

In his office, Rob went back to writing.

"Oh, don't take it out on poor Rob," she entreated gently. "Nothing he did was malicious… My guess is you've already given him more than his fair share of gray hairs."

"Mm. Ask me if I care, pumpkin." He shifted his grip on her and tugged her up closer in his lap.

"Buuuut I guess do have him to thank for finding you in my embrace right now. I suppose I'll let him off easy. Just because you asked nicely."

Rob froze upon hearing those words and a month's worth of fear, stress, and impending doom just slipped away from him as well as all muscle control and consciousness as he fainted. He would wake up an hour later with a crick in his neck and a desire to call his ex just to be pleasant and wish him well.

"Aww, why thank you." Nadie leaned down and kissed him.

Her intent had been to make it a quick peck, something simple and noncommittal. That plan was abandoned almost immediately after contact—one of his hands came up and tangled in her hair, keeping her pressed to him, and her own fingers tugged at his shirt, impatiently expressing her desire for attention. She felt his tongue brush across her lips and she welcomed him in, indulging in his taste, only vaguely aware of a rumbling growl echoing between them. It took her a long moment to realize it was emanating from her throat.

"But mark my words, babe," he murmured as he pulled away, sounding a little breathless, "the designers responsible for the travesty that is this room are on my list. No amount of your vouching is going to protect them."

"Oh, you go right ahead," she chuckled lowly, fingers sliding under his jacket. "I am fully for holding responsible parties to their actions."

"Good. We share that in common." He caught her lips with his once more, slid his other arm around her waist, and flipped them both over so that she was stretched out across the bed, his length tucked comfortably against her. Almost instinctively, she wrapped a leg over his hips, trapping him in his place above her. He released her lips so that he could nip lightly down her jaw and up to her ear. A hungry moan stole from her as she felt his teeth tug on her earlobe.

Abruptly, the clock by the door gave off its infernal chime, reminding both parties of the hour. Handsome Jack let out a low snarl at the interruption while she whimpered in frustration. He responded almost immediately to her sound of need, kissing her deeply, lingering over the taste of her and the heat of her body.

"Still don't think I'm worth the overtime?" he purred softly, hands sneaking across her body.

"Did I say that?" she gasped, desperately trying to summon up some amount of humor so that she could try to get ahold of a situation that was rapidly spinning out of control.

"I don't remember saying that."

"Well, that's good," he chuckled, "because I think we're about to use an awful lot of it." He tangled his fingers in the hem of her shirt, about ready to divest her of it.

Then, his Echo gave off a demanding trill. He froze above her before letting out a slow hiss.

"This had better be important." He released his grip on her clothing and tapped his Echo to open the connection.

"Yes?" The one word was short, to the point, and edged with more than a hint of violence. Nadie could hear a soft male voice come through, though she couldn't quite make out all the words.

"Seriously?" Handsome Jack responded to the murmur irritably. There was some assuagement that came from the other end and Hyperion's president sighed, the sound every bit the thwarted man.

"Ok. I'll get there when I get there." He cut off the call.

"You have to go?" she asked unhappily.

"Sometimes it's great being the king, babe, and sometimes it sucks," he replied. "I have to go."

"Awww."

"Believe me, I would not be leaving if I had any other options. However, I have a rep from Maliwan who's arrived prematurely and good ol' Jimmy has kept him as busy for as long as he can. So. Next week. How about dinner? Let's make it a real date. One you don't have to pay for, even."

She studied him for a moment, trying to gage if he was being serious, and then she nodded.

"That would be nice. The date, I mean. I don't care as much about the money."

"Oh, sweet cheeks," he grinned and kissed her, "we'll have to teach you better than that. Next Friday, meet me at six thirty at L'ange Noir."

He didn't let her answer; he just captured her lips with his once more before pulling away and getting to his feet. He offered a hand to help her stand.

"Next time, babe, I'll make sure there are no interruptions," he assured her. In response, she reached up, got a grip on his hair, and tugged him into one more long kiss.

"You'd better," she stated firmly, her words hurried and breathless. He grinned.

"See you next week, sweetheart."

Then he was out the door, leaving her to mull over what had just happened.

After passing by a curious Leanne who asked her twice if she was all right and a slow walk home, she finally stepped inside and leaned against the door, still not entirely sure how she felt about the last few hours. For the most part, she had never really bothered with men or relationships—it was too much trouble, there were too many consequences, and at the end of the day, she tended to be more than most men could handle. She certainly hadn't expected this one to pursue her this tenaciously, nor had she thought she might respond as strongly to him.

And then there was the fact of who he actually was…

She took a slow breath and let it out through her teeth. The weekly call with her dad could wait a day or two until she had a better idea of what she wanted to do or how she felt about the whole situation.

Then, her Echo gave a cheery tune, interrupting her musing. A frown curled her lips; of course he would call.

"I'm just your favorite soap opera, aren't I?" she questioned without preamble the moment she opened the connection. "I don't think you've every called me with this much regularity."

"Nadalie, I'm just concerned about you," Lawson replied simply.

"So, what you're saying is yes, I'm your favorite soap opera right now."

Lawson sighed. "Nadie…"

"I can see the headline now! The Young and the Nadalie! Though I'm currently in negotiation to change the title to Nadie's in Over Her Head."

She heard her father let out a slow breath.

"What happened?"

"You know the guy I haven't been able to break? How I can't get him to drop the Handsome Jack persona? Well, as it turns out, it's no surprise I couldn't, as he is the Handsome Jack!"

There was a heartbeat of silence on the other end.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, I must have gotten a bit of crazy in my ear. What?"

"Nope, you heard me," she replied, still somewhere between shocked, disbelieving, and a tad grumpy that the world she had been comfortable in had been just turned upside down.

"The Handsome Jack? As in, the Hero of Pandora?"

"The one and only. Well," she added, "presumably. There are an awful lot of people wearing his face running around."

"And you're sure this is the real one?"

"Definitely, positively, and unquestionably."

"Have to emphasize it that much?" he questioned drolly.

"I knew you were going to ask three times," she retorted. "I just cut to the chase."

Lawson sighed deeply, and Nadie could see him rubbing his temple in her mind's eye.

"How exactly did you come to his attention?"

"Apparently the Hero Hour manager sent him some message or other informing him about the issues I was having with the actors. I guess he was bored or curious enough to come check things out. Then, I somehow managed to keep his interest."

She knew her father was shaking his head.

"You two would be nigh unstoppable. So you have Handsome Jack's attention. What does this mean for you?"

Nadie fidgeted for a moment, chewing on her finger.

"It means I have a legitimate date next Friday?"

"Date." It wasn't a question; it was more like a resigned statement of fact. "You end up catching the attention of the Hero of Pandora through an almost unbelievable coincidence, manage to capture his whim and interest, and now you're being courted by him? Are you sure this is some grand accident? Are you sure you didn't inherit your mother's manipulative control of events?"

Nadie rolled her eyes.

"I wish. If I was even half this good at engineering situations, you can bet I'd have gotten a raise months ago. This is a level of complication I would never have sought out willingly."

"And yet, here you are."

There was another moment of silence between the two and then Lawson snorted.

"Well, have a good time. Don't put out until the third date."

"Father!" the gunsmith snapped, but he had already ended the call.