Chapter 72: Dinner
"Dinner? But we're not dressed for it…we don't have any clothes—"
"It's a tourist hotel and a tourist town. There are people walking around here in just slightly less than nothing. You couldn't possibly wear anything that would offend anyone." Ettienne looked her searchingly head to toe. "What you're wearing is fine. Right?"
"Right," came two other voices, and here came Scarlett and Cover Girl—both wearing off-duty olive pants and white t-shirts. With the same clothes on, Courtney and Alex looked even more similar than usual.
Cover Girl saw their looks. "Stop staring. If we dress alike it'll be harder to tell who's who, especially in a crowd," she said irritably, punching Beach Head none too gently on the arm.
Scarlett made an unexpected grab for Alex. If Alex hadn't already been jumpy and tense and unhappy after the incident with the maid, she might not have reacted as quickly. As it was, she slid past Ettienne, evading Scarlett's grasp, and turned, her hand almost reflexively going for her gun.
Snake Eyes closed in from behind, and Alex felt more than saw his intrusion into her personal space. She lunged forward, slapping the floor with her hands as she brought her gun up, and ended flat on her back with her gun pointed upwards, only inches from Snake Eyes' groin.
"Whoa. Okay, Alex. Don't shoot that off, I might want that later." Snake Eyes did a double-take, staring at Scarlett in consternation as the rest of the Joes broke into barely-stifled chuckles. Ettienne gave Alex a moment to catch her breath, then held a hand out to her to help her up. She returned the gun to the back of her shorts, smiling a little self-consciously.
"Good prep. You acted more out of blind instinct than training, but the end result was the same. I just wanted to see if you were armed." Scarlett nodded approvingly as she checked Alex's back, under her shirt and pants, and found the thin-bladed little stiletto there. "Good. Keep that with you at all times. And your gun. Keep it loaded; you never know when you're going to have to use it." She paused in her examination of the cotton web belt that held the knife and gun. "Did you know I was going to test you?"
"Allie said that on the trip you would try to surprise me by throwing unexpected punches just to make sure I was paying attention to my surroundings."
She grinned. "Hah. I guess she remembers me doing that to her when she first joined. At least she thought to warn you. And you listened, better than some of our regular recruits." She tugged the back of Alex's shirt down. "Okay. You pass inspection."
Alex's hand reached back, grabbed Scarlett's wrists in a surprisingly firm grip. Caught off-guard, Scarlett let her duck under the wrists, pull Scarlett over in front of her and fling her away. Scarlett went flying, felt the bed at the back of her knees, sprawled in a very unladylike position on the bed. When she got up a few stubborn feathers stuck to her hair. "Now that I wasn't prepared for. You've been practicing."
"I've been working with her like you said." Ettienne was serious when he looked at Scarlett. "How well we train her now could mean the difference between her life and death. And there's a secluded little beach in New Zealand that I plan on taking her to see after this is over, so prepping her now will ensure that she gets to see that little beach."
"A-a beach?" Alex looked uncertain; her hands and arms came up almost unconsciously to cover her chest. "I-I don't know—all those people—"
"Uh uh. Private beach. Wear as much or as little as you want to. No disturbances from overreacting maids." Scarlett was grinning. "Sounds like a wonderful idea, Ettienne. And I know for a fact that you have some leave time coming up, so after this is over I'm sure General Hawk will give you the time off. Now come on, I'm hungry and I could eat a horse. Where are we going?"
"I thought we'd start with a light dinner downstairs," Beach Head came in—and he was wearing white and off-duty olive too. "It's a four star hotel in an exotic location, for chrissakes, I want to try the food. We don't often eat this well on a mission or off, and especially not on Uncle Sam's dime, so I for one intend to enjoy it!" He folded his arms and looked at them, daring them to disagree with him. No one did. "Then I thought we'd go and have a look at some of the local tourist sites. We want to increase our visibility and make sure Velez knows we're here; the sooner he contacts HQ via the secured line the sooner we can wrap up the whole business and go the hell home. We also need to make contact with Chief General Hall's operative here and make sure our weapons and transportation are ready if we need them in a hurry. " He turned to Gung Ho, "Go and change into off duty olive and a white t-shirt. We're about the same height, so if anyone's watching they'll be confused when they see you and I and Courtney and Alex together." Gung Ho disappeared.
"All right. Are you girls armed? I know Alex is."
"Got mine right here." Scarlett pulled the neckline of her shirt down, revealing the web of straps that kept two knives and an assortment of throwing stars close to her torso. A slit in the side seam of her pants also produced a small-caliber handgun strapped to her upper thigh.
Courtney didn't have the knives and stars, but she did have two nine mil Glocks strapped to her thighs under the pants. Alex stared at them. "Why don't my pants have those slits?" she blinked.
"What you have is the regular military issue off-duty slacks. Scarlett and I modify ours so that we have these extra weapons wherever we go, and we only wear these when we're on a mission because if we walked around stateside some dumbass metal detector would go off somewhere." Courtney rolled her eyes.
"I did think about outfitting you with the thigh holster and slit pants, but Allie talked me out of it. Since you're more familiar with your gun at your back, if there was an emergency you might reach back there first and waste a few precious seconds when you realize it's not there, it's around your thigh. Those few seconds can mean the difference between freedom or death." Alex nodded, understanding that, as Ettienne came back wearing the same clothes they were all wearing.
Scarlett looked around. "Where's Snake Eyes?"
As if the words had conjured up the man, Snake Eyes appeared from behind her. But he'd changed from his normal sober black to the same off-duty olive and white the other wore, and he'd shucked his mask. Alex couldn't help staring; he'd obviously used stage makeup to cover the scars.
He saw her staring and looked directly back at her. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'm so used to seeing you in your uniform or with your scars that you just…look odd without them."
He came to stand in front of her, his hands flashing; Scarlett translated for him. "The scars are a part of me now, just as your scars are a part of you. There will be many times when you will wish you didn't have them, when you wish they were gone, but never be ashamed of them. You have won them honorably, in battle; a warrior's scars. They tell the world you have survived something unimaginable, and that makes you a stronger person. Those who truly love you and care about you won't care about the scars. Just as you no longer see the scars on my face, we no longer see the scars on your body. Wear what you want, when you want, and be proud of them." Scarlett's voice took on a distinctly humorous tone with a core of contempt in it. "The makeup is only for those idiots with weak stomachs and weak minds."
Alex had to laugh at that. "Point taken." And deep in the pit of her stomach, a tight knot of unhappiness uncurled, smoothed. Disappeared. The sudden absence of it made her feel suddenly—free, and she cupped fists in front of her as she gave him a slight bow. "I will not forget, Sensei."
The smile on his face was radiant.
"When we get back to New York and everything gets back to normal, let me take you out." His face clouded, and he started to hold up a hand, but she shook her head. "It's not what you think. There's a lovely little place in Brooklyn called the Europa Bar, and they have sign language only nights; the bartenders and wait staff are fluent in AMESLAN, the food is good, the beer's plentiful, and you could take Scarlett so long as she doesn't speak. If you talk you get ejected." He looked interested. "And there's another place in Jackson Heights, called Club Atlantis, and they have 'silent nights' there too. There is music and dancing like any other nightclub, but it's carefully chosen and coordinated with a light show so that those who can't hear can still dance with those who can. Different colors for different octaves, and a killer sound system so you can feel the beat in the floor. I think you'd like it there."
"I would like to take Shana out more often. She doesn't get out enough." Shana stopped speaking, staring at him in consternation.
"Well, there you go then." Alex smiled.
"You guys go on. Snake Eyes and I have something to discuss." Shana firmly pushed the rest of the team through the adjoining door into the guys' room and closed the door.
Courtney started laughing so hard she had to sit down. "That's going to be a hell of an interesting discussion!" she gasped finally. At Alex's mystified look, she tried to explain. "Snake Eyes doesn't like going out because he thinks it's awkward that he can't talk. So he prefers to stay in on the evenings when we do have off-base leave time. Shana will occasionally come out with us, but she doesn't really enjoy the evening because she's thinking about him here by himself. So she stays because he does, and he feels guilty 'cause he thinks he's keeping her from having fun. I think you just gave them a solution to that particular problem—they were out at a nightclub once, and Scarlett was dancing. She's a very graceful dancer, with all that martial arts training, and when she saw he was watching her she put on a show for him. I heard his jaw hit the floor even over the music…and he started signing to her. Some idiot thought he was flashing gang signs and next thing you know there's the mother of all fights on the dance floor. Shana said afterwards that was the most fun she'd had in a long time, but Snake Eyes was mortified that they'd created 'a scene' and flatly refused to go again. And she was disappointed but if he wouldn't go she wouldn't either."
The door adjoining the two suites opened, and Scarlett came out, followed by Snake Eyes. Scarlett looked flushed, and Snake Eyes—was that the merest hint of a smile on his lips? "Come on. Let's go have dinner." She yanked open the door to the hall, then paused. "Snake Eyes and I will take you up on that offer, Alex." And then she was gone, long strides taking her down the hall several steps in front of everyone else.
Alex could hear Courtney and Wayne snickering in the back of the elevator. Shana pointedly ignored them. About halfway down Snake Eyes reached out and brushed the back of Shana's hand with two fingers, and Shana reached out with that hand, captured it in her own, and they held hands the rest of the way down.
Courtney's smile as she got off the elevator was truly insufferable. "I'll pay for that the next time I get on the mat with Scarlett, but it was definitely worth it."
There was hardly anyone in the hotel restaurant when they got downstairs; Courtney shook her head. "If the intent is to be visible to any watchers, we're not going to accomplish it here," she said as she did an about-face and marched up to the front desk, speaking to the clerk in rapid Spanish. A few minutes later, she came back. "The desk clerk recommends a nightclub a couple blocks away for somewhere a little livelier," she said cheerfully. "I got directions."
"Wait. A 'little livelier' or your definition of 'livelier'?" Shana asked suspiciously.
"Would I do that to you?" Courtney looked decidedly too cheerful, Alex thought as the blonde tank jockey strolled ahead of them, hands linked with Wayne's. Shana, too, was holding hands with Snake Eyes, both of them looking in each other's eyes and no doubt making up (nonverbally) for the earlier fight. Despite the fact that Snake Eyes couldn't talk, Alex got the impression that Scarlett didn't win many arguments with him.
And then a warm, calloused hand slipped into hers, and she looked at Ettienne as he fell into step beside her. Smiling happily, she gave the hand a squeeze and they walked on, quietly enjoying the stroll and the simple physical contact.