2x10 - 72 Hours
"Are we home yet?"
He starts a little in his seat – thought she was sleeping. She looks asleep, still slumped against the passenger door, eyes closed. "Almost, girl," he assures her. "I just wanna stop at Dick's real quick."
"Who's Dick?"
"Dick's Drive-In," he clarifies. "It'll only take a sec. Then home." It sounds strange cuz it sounds normal, like they "go home" together every night.
She makes a little sound. "I used to go to Dick's all the time. Took the monorail to Key Arena. Walked over."
"Yeah? You like some Dick...'s?" he teases, grinning. Nearly apologizes for the shitty joke, feeling like an ass, when he gets no reaction. Then she raises her hand, flips him the bird. He chuckles, knowing it's okay.
He drives a block or two, wondering if he should say what's on his mind before she falls asleep again. He doesn't usually filter himself so much. When did that start? Maybe when shit started getting real, is when.
"So check it, Linden. After this is all over, after we close this thing – and we will, we're so close, I promise you - after it's done and after we get Jack back, right? Yo, I'm gonna take you someplace nice for dinner, y'know what I'm sayin'? None of this drive-thru fast-food grab-n-go shit. Somethin' real nice. You and me. Like... Oh, snap, I know - that churrasco place in Bellevue. I been dying to go there. You know about churrasco? That's where they come around with all this roasted meat on big spits, bring it right to your table, carve it off onto your plate. Sirloin and lamb and chicken and ribs and pork and sausage. A roaming meat buffet, what could be better than that?"
He finally zips it and licks his lips, nervous but also thinking about meat, waits for her to say something. Anything. Like, for example, "No, Holder, we won't go to dinner together because that's a stupid idea and I'm still going to California when this is over and I don't care if I rip out your heart and stomp all over it." Or some variation of that.
She's still got her eyes closed. He's still waiting. Finally - "You asking me out, Holder?"
His foot jerks on the brake pedal, spastic, and he casts about in his empty brain for what to say. Finally manages to mumble, "Jack can come, too."
"Holder," she says sternly. Eeeek, here it comes! "You'd go into a coma if you ate that much meat."
Oh. "Nah, I wouldn't," he disagrees, feeling absurdly pleased that she didn't shoot him right down with an elephant gun. "But I'd definitely need a nap after."
She smiles and yawns and shifts, settling back into her own nap. He can't remove the grin from his face.
Two more blocks and they hit their destination. He pulls into the near-empty lot, parks, and turns to her, watching her a moment before asking, "So whatcha want, Linden? And just so you know, 'nothing' and 'just coffee' are not acceptable answers." He'll argue with her, if need be, fight with her, if she wants.
"Just get me something greasy and meaty and covered in cheese, please," she mutters sleepily. "And fries. And a strawberry shake."
Sounds good to him. Make that two to go. He pops his door, climbing out as he tells her, "Anything you want, mamacita."
