Knock knock, guess who it is. For those of you who might have wondered, yes, I'm still alive and totally aware that I should be booed for not updating this in over two months. Two jobs can do that to someone, so I'm sorry about the delay. Thanks to you who followed and favourited, and to MsWolffe, HooksGirl67, heroherondaletotheresuce, enje, and ClemmieCole for the reviews and the encouraging words. Enjoy!

"Thanks for the coffee and the company, it was very nice meeting you, but if you could do me just one favour... please don't tell her about this."

He was already halfway to the door when a call to wait stopped him. He turned around with a slightly quizzical look, peering curiously at Rae writing something down on a small pad. Once finished, she handed him the paper and his look grew even more quizzical.

"Some friends of hers own that place and sometimes she helps out with music and stuff," she explained. "I think she will be there tonight. If, of course, you're ready to meet her face to face."

Kili arched an eyebrow. "That's what I came for in the first place."

"It's not very crowded, but I wouldn't worry about her slipping away this time."

Hope rekindled in his gut. "Are you sure she'll be there?"

Rae's face broke into a shrewd smile, "I'll make sure of that. Around nine, mind you."

And for the first time in a long while, his face lit up and his hopeful smile regained its lost radiance.

"Now, for the love of god," she sounded almost desperate, "please go get some sleep."

Kili barely heard a word. Sending propriety to the devil, he actually hugged the woman, said goodbye to her son and was off.

Happily into her second drink, Arya was drowning her sorrows as she chatted with the bartender. The latter also happened to be her good friend, fact for which Arya was most grateful for, because it meant an unlimited supply of alcohol on nights like the present one.

Laura, the aforementioned bartender, seemed to be in an extraordinarily good mood in contrast to her companion. One might attribute this to the subtly covered hickey in her low neck, result of a rowdy experience the night before, though one would seem rather superficial and a bit disrespectful if they considered that as a possible cause for her high spirits. Rather focused on fixing a few drinks, she was a second late in noticing the stranger enter. Tall, handsome, dark haired and bearded, he looked around for a while until his gaze landed on the bar.

The cheerful bartender resisted the urge to laugh at the perfect timing of the man approaching the bar and the first notes of the song that hit the air. Black leather jacket, blue jeans, white shirt, he walked into the room and, oh, he made her eyes burn.

"Oh fuck."

That made Arya's so far slumped head lift up to eye level. "What?"

"The best incarnation of Wolverine I've seen, after Hugh Jackman. Don't look, he's coming over here," said Laura with a discreet cough. "Dibs."

Arya let a long-suffering sigh. "Earth to Laura, does the name Alex ring a bell at all?"

"Damn you, woman. Why do you have to remember everything?"

Arya gave the most innocent look she could muster, shaking her head in a dramatic way when Laura's smart blue eyes strayed to her left.

"Buonasera," she heard her say.

The second best incarnation of Wolverine greeted accordingly, then he switched to English. And there was that familiar tone and the ever so slight Irish lilt that made Arya's stomach churn, as though it'd made a somersault on bare asphalt.

"What can I get you?" Laura chirped. "We have recently expanded our selection of wine–"

"Oh, no," the man smiled. "Wine is for celebrating. I'll have a martini."

Arya's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Human temperament was a volatile compound of perception and circumstance. And right now, hers was about to have a meltdown. Turning around, she came face to face with a dapper Kili who had just ordered his drink, and was unable to hold the small gasp her mouth blurted out, "What in God's name are you doing here?"

The tall brunet flashed an all too charming smile as he leaned on the bar, fixing his eyes on her as if he were the wild beast that had just lured its gullible prey into a trap. "Nothing in his name. Here on my own, actually."

Everything from the night before struck back, the flutter upon seeing him up close after all this time, the tantalising curls and beard that tempted her fingers to tangle with them, his smell coaxing her closer to him and, last but not least, the perpetually playful undercurrent hidden in his eyes that made her nerves tingle with anticipation. She didn't know if she ought to feel angry and betrayed, or deceived and randy. Unfortunately, there was no middle ground.

Her face features quickly returned to the default mode they had adopted that night—the scowl. "And here I was wondering if the day could go any worse."

"Ever so honest," Kili remarked.

"Oh, do forgive my penchant for telling the truth."

"Which is, much like beauty, in the eye of the beholder."

"And which is why one shouldn't meddle in other people's relationships." Never let it be said that she was one to mince words.

"Generalization," he countered.

"That is open to argument."

"Why, oh why do I have the distinct feeling that you two know each other?" Laura chimed once she found a safe moment between the verbal gunshots.

"We do," Kili replied automatically, not taking his eyes off of the obviously angry woman on his opposite, while said woman's simultaneous reply was a firm, sarcastic "We don't."

He could not resist a smile. "Our opinions conflict, how original. May I sit?"

"No."

On cue, Kili placed himself on the stool beside hers, looking about ten years younger than the day before and grinning like the sun shone right out of his arse.

He didn't speak at first. Neither did she; just gave him that look, the one he couldn't decipher for the life of him. He could actually hear the wheels spin in her head, but being un-privy to that information, he had no idea what about. He simply watched her eyes narrow as they raked over his form, leaving an odd sensation in their wake.

Unconventional silence reigned the next few minutes and the music softly switched over to an INXS hit, but their eyes still remained glued to each other. It was as if they were recollecting every moment they spent so hard trying to forget.

Kili almost smiled at the irony of the song. "Long sullen silences and an occasional glower—the Arya way," he commented dryly. "Are you okay?"

She only muttered a grumbling "Fine."

"We didn't get to catch up the other night. Any news?"

"Same old, same old."

"Oh well," he sighed. "Anything else? How does life here work for you?"

"Good."

Kili rolled his eyes. "Lovely," he said with wry voice. "Pleasure to have had this substantial conversation with you."

"Pleasure is all mine. Now, bugger off."

"Come on, you tell me you're not even a tiny bit pleased to see me after all this time?"

Arya's eyes almost hurled out fire. "I am frothing with excitement," she said dryly. "What the hell are you doing here to begin with?"

"Well, that's none of my business," a voice emerged on their right, "but I'm pretty sure he's waving the white flag." Laura wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at her friend, who was a step away from murdering someone as she did her best to avoid any contact —eye and not— with the man beside her.

Kili smiled over his shoulder at the bartender, undaunted by Arya's lethal glower. "Sorry, I actually forgot the flag."

It was like pouring gasoline on a bonfire. And expected it to die down.

"Aw, shame," Arya spat out sarcastically, "I would have told you where to put it. How did you find me here?"

"A little bird told me."

She clenched her fists, eyes shut in agitation as she grumbled under her breath, "I'm going to muzzle my aunt."

Kili shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "Look, I know what you think of me–"

Anger flashed anew behind her eyes. "Do you, now?"

"That I am the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass–"

"Believe me, the amount of adjectives I can attribute to your person is not even remotely polite as that description."

"Be that as it may," he said firmly, "this will be much quicker for all of us if we can fast-forward through the sarcasm and reach the conclusion that I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"Certain matters."

"And who says I wanna talk to you?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Well, you were pretty talkative two weeks ago when you called me in the middle of the night to say that you were cold in my t-shirt."

That seemed enough to crack her false bravado.

"So, how does your availability look like?" he continued. "I'd be happy to squeeze myself in wherever I can."

"You already squeezed yourself in unwanted places," she growled. "You had no right to drag anyone of my family into this."

He sighed. "I asked her not to tell you–"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she snapped, "if you didn't want me to know, you could have at least not bathed yourself with perfume before you went there!"

"Wh– You actually want me to believe that you recognised the scent and figured it out?" he asked in disbelief, inwardly cursing his habit of wearing the damn thing most of the time.

"It wasn't that difficult, considering the whole place continued to smell like you for hours after you left, but that's not the point. The point is that you're disturbing–"

Kili straightened his shoulders and his form seemed to tower over hers. "You were so kind to send me to hell last night and every other time I called you before that," he growled, "so desperate times and all that. Just let me tell you a few things and then I won't bother you again, I swear."

"Very well," she said with a challenging shake of head. "You've got two minutes," she glanced down at her watch then, "starting right now. I'm listening."

"I– You d–" He cleared his throat, despising himself for having been caught off guard. "I'd rather we talked somewhere quieter, actually."

The woman simply scowled and turned away.

He took a long sip from the martini, sloshed it about in his mouth, and then swallowed. The alcohol felt like fuel entering his system and powering it up. He stared at her face quite intensely for a few seconds, searching for any sign of any emotion before he let a small sigh—he had found none. Suddenly, he put the glass down and shifted closer, extending his hand to her.

Arya almost choked on her drink. "You've got to be joking..."

His hand awaited before her, luring and anticipating. "Not at all," he said seriously. "Another little bird had once told me that tango is your favourite."

Her eyes closed in agitation again, and she snorted. "Tell that rumour-monger of a brother of yours that he's going to suffer."

Kili laughed delightedly, although her cracking jokes while on the verge of condemning him to the ninth circle of hell seemed a little off-putting. Even she couldn't believe she had actually attempted to joke. Had she stayed true to her real self, she'd already be on the second punch to his face for even having the nerve to ask her to dance.

It was so odd to hear her teasing voice after all this time. "Come," he insisted.

"No. Give it up, okay? I doubt you know even the basics. Ten o' clock," she directed him towards a little huddle of three women. "Go slink with one of them and leave me alone."

He didn't even consider rejection. One of them was going to relent and it wouldn't be him. "Why? Are you worried that I dance better than you?"

"Oh, you dance better than me?" Arya scoffed. "And that would be the joke of the week."

"Great, then." She was caught very much off guard when he suddenly leaned closer to her, capturing her between himself and the bar with his long arms. He was gonna make her an offer she couldn't refuse—pun totally intended. "Since you're so certain my dancing skills are inadequate," he said with low, challenging voice that made her heartbeat falter, "wouldn't you like to watch me make a fool of myself in front of everyone in here?"

That smug little bastard; he knew her buttons and he was using them quite craftily. "If you put it that way," she flashed a wry smile, "by all means."

Kili was extremely amused by Arya's desperate struggle to retain a mood of nonchalance, like she wasn't feeling extremely uncomfortable doing it. Also, by her scowl once she realised that he, in fact, was a rather good dancer.

"Enjoying ourselves?"

"Would you prefer a sarcastic response to that, or should we stick to the 'silence is gold' adage?"

"I'm pretty sure you already chose the first," he said evenly. "Your aunt told me you've been running a lot. Blowing some steam, or are we trying to run away from something?"

Arya gave him a deadpan glare. "The world of psychoanalysis would be lost without your insights."

"Oh, come on, we can't keep going on mute!"

"Why not? Is there a specific rule requiring chit-chat while dancing?"

"No, but it'd seem unsocial to dance and not utter even a word."

"We talked earlier."

"Yes," he huffed with indignation, "and each of your replies was three words at best."

"Brevity is the soul of wit," she said pointedly. Her literature professor would be proud to see that this last fragment of Shakespeare he had imparted in her brain wasn't gone out the window already.

On cue, before he could respond, the song ended. The few other dancing couples around them stilled, and she retrieved her hands from him. Before she could take a step back he pulled her closer.

"What are you doing?" she asked in alert.

"Mowing the lawn," he muttered sarcastically. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"What if the next–" Only the first few notes were enough to make her eyes bulge. She glared at him. "How is it even possible to have blues play exactlywhen it's convenient for you?"

He shrugged. "The universe is working for me."

"Clearly."

It wasn't the universe in itself, actually. It was Laura who made a contribution to the cause, if the exchange of thumbs-up between her and the DJ was anything to go by. Good thing that fell off Arya's radar, or there would be a bloodshed.

She was wearing that flowery perfume that he could recognise from miles away. Soon it had become a favourite. Ideally he'd go buy whole buckets of it to gift it to her so she could wear it all the time and he'd follow her like a faithful servant to drink in the scent.

"Why did you come all the way down here, Kili?"

There was that forgotten flutter in his stomach the moment she uttered his name. "What–"

"You could keep calling me until I answered."

"Really? When would that be?"

"Maybe... at some point, I would."

He snorted. "Liar."

She looked up to him. "You could have someone else call, you could have sent an e-mail... or even a letter," something akin to anger erupted in her eyes then and made her face flare up, "not take six fucking trains because the weather was bad and you couldn't get a flight."

The problem she had with trains, as well as the cause of that, suddenly came to mind. "Careful," he said pointedly, "you almost sound concerned."

"And you sound less high up your arse than usual. How's that so?" The light pinch in her side was totally unexpected and she squirmed lightly in response. "Might I ask what's the burning matter you need to talk to me about?"

"That is for another, quieter place, like we said."

"How about we get this over with then?" she huffed impatiently and broke away from him. "Enough with this dance fiasco. I can't stand you whispering in my ear anymore, it makes me bristle."

He arched an eyebrow. "My voice makes you bristle?" he asked in surprise as he followed her back to the bar, all smug and charming. "Well, that's new."

Not at all. Quite the contrary, it was getting old. "Mmm," she said dryly, glancing at him over her shoulder, "perhaps you should consider starting a career in sex hotlines."

He raised the eyebrow again. "Would you call to talk to me?"

"Why would I call a sex hotline to talk to you?"

"Well, you never call me in my regular number, at least call me there."

It wasn't that funny and, under other circumstances, she would've shot him a half-pained look, but it had been so long since she'd last heard one of his bad jokes that she actually, and much to her chagrin, chuckled.

"Let me get my things and we can leave."

"Thank you," he said, and meant it. "Just one more minute, I need the loo."

Just as Arya picked up her coat, Kili was hurrying down a hall towards the toilet, failing to see the figure of someone walking up to her.

The blood running out of Kili's nose had apparently no plan to stop soon, and Arya sighed, knowing she'd have to be very patient. Because, of course, he hadn't allowed her to use haemostatic cotton, claiming that he'd never have something akin to a marshmallow shoved up his nostrils. She, in turn, warned him that she'd shove it somewhere else, so he was a little less apprehensive about its use then.

He looked up at her from where he sat on the edge of the washstand of his room's bathroom. His eyes followed her hand's careful movements with the towel she held under his nose, straying north sometimes to marvel at the face he had so much missed.

A scolding voice disrupted his woolgathering, "Your nose is going to bruise."

That would be the second time in three weeks; he didn't give a damn. "Big deal," he waved off. "You should see the other guy."

"If you recall, I actually saw the other guy," she said dryly. "The man didn't do anything, why on earth did you punch him?"

"He wouldn't leave you alone!"

"He was asking if I'd happened to see his keys around, because he was sitting there earlier! He lost them and was just looking for the–"

"He lost–" scoffed Kili and then continued in a much dryer tone, "Where, in your bra? The guy wouldn't get his eyes off your ti–"

"Know that whatever you intent to say about thatarea or my choice of clothing can and will be used against you," she warned. "And in more painful ways than you can imagine."

He scowled. "I wasn't going to say something offensive about that area. Quite the opposite, it's really nice and your clothes are very flattering–" He cringed as soon as the words were repeated in his head. "Not that I was staring there, of course," he rushed to explain, noting her glare, "I am simply making an observ– My point is that ogling and drooling over you like he did, apart from the fact that he could clearly see you had a date, was just tacky and disrespectful. So all I did was give him a nice lesson in pro–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Arya raised a hand to stop him, "hold up there, mate, a 'date'? Since when were you my date?"

"Fine," he huffed angrily, "whatever. But he must have seen us dancing and he could also see that we were ready to leave, together. I might as well be your date!"

"Still, that was no reason for you to beat him up!" She poured some more water on the towel to clean off what little blood had splattered across his cheek, and then sighed deeply, "Always so eager to show off."

"I wasn't showing off!" he protested, rather affronted; then he muttered something along the lines of, "I'd do far worse to get this attention from you."

Curiosity got the better of her, but in the end she thought it wiser not to ask. She nearly flinched back, though, when Kili leaned his cheek in her hand, his grown beard a bit rough but not at all unwelcome against her open palm.

And all of a sudden, the warmth of her hand disappeared and he was left with the feeling of the room's cold air against his face.

"You shouldn't have come here," she said.

To be continued. Pray, and I will pray along with you, for me to have the next one ready much sooner this time. Don't forget to review!

P.S. I'll do my best to update 'Wanted dead or alive' within the week.

P.P.S. The INXS song is 'Never tear us apart'.