"Between the sprain and the sniffles, you really can't catch a break this week."
Ressler stands outside the door of Reddington's latest safe house with Liz, who is tapping her foot impatiently. Which is a little surprising to him. He knows she's probably tired of being at Reddington's beck and call but he'd figured she'd just kind of gotten used to it by now. But here she is bouncing on the balls of her feet, huffing big sighs, and knocking on the door every other minute.
Weird.
"Jeez, Keen. That's not gonna get them to answer the door any faster."
She rolls her eyes and doesn't even bother answering him. He sighs. She's in one of those moods then. He'd feel sorry for himself being stuck in the same FBI issued van with her today if he didn't pity Reddington more.
Judging by her attitude, he's in for a world of hurt from Keen today, that's for sure.
Finally, the door swings open and there stands Dembe, waving them in. But Liz doesn't even bother to wait for an invitation, just pushes in and starts down the hall.
Ressler sighs and shrugs helplessly at Dembe before easing past him and into the house. He wanders slowly down the hallway he saw Liz disappear down, in no hurry to get closer to the argument that is no doubt brewing in the air between them.
But then he hears Liz's voice coming from a room off to the left and it doesn't sound quite like what he expected.
"Between the sprain and the sniffles, you really can't catch a break this week."
Ressler frowns, rounding the corner to turn into what looks like a study, and is confused by the sight that greets him.
Reddington is sitting up on the couch in front of the fireplace, leg stretched out in front of him and foot propped up on a pillow. Ressler also spies several boxes of tissues and a trash can within reach.
And Liz is standing close to him, murmuring things he can't hear.
"Donald, hello, how are you?" Reddington says loudly, smoothly interrupting Liz. She straightens up and turns to glare at Ressler, looking even more irritated then before.
Great.
Ressler leans against the door jam, crossing his arms.
"Better than you, it seems."
Red barks a hoarse laugh while Liz throws Ressler another annoyed glare.
Really weird.
"When Keen told me you sprained your ankle chasing an 'associate', I was sure that was code for 'playing hooky and flying to Portugal' or something."
Red chuckles again.
"Ah, that sounds wonderful. It is truly gorgeous in Portugal this time of year. But, alas, I'm not quite fit for an impromptu plane flight."
"I see that. Got a cold, too, huh?"
"You are ever observant, Donald. Does anything ever escape your vigilant notice?"
Ressler rolls his eyes, deciding to put an end to the bickering for the time being, pushing off the door jam and easing back out into the hall.
"Well, you're obviously not fit for talking about work. You ready to go, Keen?"
"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec." she snaps, not moving from Reddington's side.
Ressler sighs. She must not be finished taking a bite out of him.
"Okay, okay. I'll wait in the hall. Feel better, Reddington. Drink lots of liquids."
"Wherever would I be without your medical know-how, Donald?"
Ressler gives him one last dry smirk and leaves the room to lean on the wall out in the hallway. He doesn't want to eavesdrop but he also doesn't relish going back out to the living room to wait in awkward silence with Dembe…
"I just don't understand why it's this difficult for you to take care of yourself. Normal people don't have nearly this much trouble."
"Well, contrary to what you seem to believe, Lizzie, I don't go out of my way to get injured. I generally try to avoid it."
Ressler frowns. Did he hear that right? It almost sounds like Liz is concerned about Reddington. That can't be right…
"I know…I'm sorry. I just worry about you. I mean, a cold on top of a sprained ankle? Who does that?"
"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I suppose it wouldn't help to tell you not to worry?"
"Hasn't worked yet, has it?"
"No, I suppose not."
What the hell? Did Reddington just call her "sweetheart"?
"Well, as much as I hate to say it, Lizzie, you'd better go. Donald's waiting."
Yes, Donald is waiting, Ressler thinks. Waiting for something he's hearing to make some god damn sense.
"Yeah, I know. I really don't feel like chasing criminals today though. I've got my own to take care of. And, let me tell you, he's quite a handful."
Ressler hears Red give a deep chuckle.
"I don't want you to leave either, sweetheart."
"Are you sure there's nothing I can get you?"
"I'm sure. Dembe's got me well taken care of."
"Good. I'll see you later tonight then."
What?
"I certainly hope so. This patient could use some attention."
"I think I can help with that."
Oh, god.
"I'll see you later."
"Be safe, Lizzie."
Ressler barely has time to close his mouth before Liz appears in the hall. When she sees him, she quickly shifts back into what Ressler dubs her "agent mode" but not before he catches a glimpse of a very soft-looking Liz that he has never seen before.
Oh.
She says nothing, however, just gives him a quick nod and stomps back down the hallway. They are past Dembe and out the front door before Ressler manages to sort his confusion into a coherent question.
"Uh, Keen?" he says tentatively, unlocking the van with a beep of the key fob.
"What?" she snaps, opening her door and turning to face him with her piercing blue eyes, daring him to say something.
Maybe her and Reddington are a good match, after all.
"…Nothing." He mutters, shaking his head and climbing in the car.
He doesn't even wanna know.
