The pub was exactly what Dempsey had expected it to be; a dive. Even he stood out in there, and he was only wearing jeans and a shirt. The inside was jam packed full of bikers and other undesirable looking characters, who all seemed to stop their conversations, turn and watch Dempsey and Harry as they walked in.

"You ever been in here before?" Dempsey asked under his breath.

"Never," she replied. "I've driven past it before, but I've never stopped."

"I wonder why," he said wryly.

They pushed their way through the crowds towards the bar, with, Dempsey noticed, several pairs of dodgy looking male eyes on Harry. Finally, reaching the bar, Dempsey turned to Harry and asked,

"What ya havin'?"

At that point however, Harry's attention had been diverted to the barman.

"Mick," she said with surprise.

The barman clearly knew her and was grinning like a Cheshire cat, all be it a slimy, greasy haired one.

"Harry, wow!" he replied, looking her up and down. "Didn't expect to ever see you in here. You're not… here on business are you?" he said, glancing around himself nervously.

She smiled. "No, don't worry Mick, it's just pleasure tonight." Her eyes shot to Dempsey. He was watching their interaction with disbelief. How the hell did she know this guy?

"Oh right then…" Mick hung his thumbs in his jean pockets, seemingly pleased with her reply. "…So, what can I get you to drink?"

"I'll have a glass of red," she answered, "and," she turned to Dempsey.

"A bottle of beer," he supplied.

Mick didn't appear to like the presence of Dempsey there. "Don't do bottles, only draught," he replied coldly.

Dempsey had planned on ordering a bottle of beer to somehow limit his exposure to the insanitary conditions of the place. He'd clearly been overoptimistic.

Dempsey shrugged. "Draught then."

When the barman turned his back to them to pour the wine, Dempsey leant towards Harry and said under his breath,

"Is there anyone in this town ya don't know?"

"I only know him in here," she replied, glancing around. "I think."

Dempsey reacted by placing an arm around her shoulder and turning her back to the bar. "Don't go lookin' round like that."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Put it this way, ya don't want any more of those guys noticin' ya," he replied.

She took a breath to answer him but was interrupted by the return of the barman with their drinks.

"These are on me," Mick said.

"Thank you very much Mick," she smiled, picking up her glass and turning to find a table.

Dempsey took his beer and followed her, watching her incredulously.

"What?" she asked, taking a seat.

"You… and him," he said, sitting opposite her on an upholstered booth that had seen better days.

She held up her hands in confusion.

"How d'ya know that guy?" he asked.

"He's just an informant of mine. Well, not a very good one actually. He doesn't come up with much," she explained.

"Hmm, probably has his mind on other things," he replied.

"You have a dirty mind Dempsey," she chastised.

"Not as dirty as his, I bet!"

She laughed and took a sip of her drink, cringing. "Well," she glanced around the pub, "it's got… character," she plumped for.

"Yeah, there's a whole other species in here," he replied, holding up his beer and peering at the murky liquid.

She glanced at it. It did look rather grim. She threw him a sympathetic look.

He made the most of that. "Come here," he said, daring her with his eyes to move next to him.

"Why?" she came back.

"'Cause I need protectin' from these knuckleheads!" he said, playing the vulnerable card.

She tutted, but stood and moved to sit beside him on the booth. He wriggled closer and placed his arm across the back of the booth, dangling his fingers close to the nape of her neck.

There followed a silence, during which both struggled with their own thoughts, wondering where the conversation was going to move to, whilst at the same time, being excruciatingly aware of each other's proximity. Dempsey began to realize that every time they had previously gone out together, the conversation had revolved around work. Maybe Eddie had been right; he should find out more about her.

"Harry," he began, breaking the silence.

"Hmm," she responded.

"See that wallpaper?"

"What, that grubby looking flowery stuff?" she asked.

"Yeah. Well, imagine that colour there." He pointed to the wall.

"Which one Dempsey the dirty brown?"

"No," he frowned, "that blue. But just imagine it somewhere else, like you're redecorating, right? So, that would be a nice sky blue to paint ya bedroom with, wouldn't it?"

She turned to observe him for a moment. Where on earth had that come from?

"No Dempsey, no it wouldn't," she replied.

Not blue then.

"Nah, you're right. But what colour are ya redecoratin' with then?" he asked.

"I've already done the painting," she replied.

What colour were her walls anyway? He was mostly only in her house when it was dark. Or else, he was focused on other things. Great!

He rethought. "Harry," he began again.

"Yes Dempsey?" she answered, beginning to think that probably Eddie had put him up to something; he just couldn't help matchmaking!

"I was kinda wonderin'…"

"What were you wondering Dempsey?"

"Well, we didn't do this much before, you know, go out together like this. Sure, sometimes, but not often. And when we did, we were mostly just talkin' 'bout work and cases an' all. So, I never really got to know stuff, like…"

When was he just going to ask what her favourite colour was, she wondered.

"…like, well, what did ya do after work, for example. You know, on an average day?" he asked.

Oh, she has expected him to come up with something as cliché as 'what was her favourite colour', but she was quite impressed with that question.

"Well," she settled in her seat and reached for her wine glass, cradling it as she thought back. "I quite often used to go to see a friend or relative straight after work. Either that, or invite them back to my house," she informed him. "To be honest, I don't really enjoy eating alone. I'd rather not bother. Then, I'd drive back home and," she thought, "Usually wind down by taking a bath…"

He smiled. "You do like your baths," he observed.

"Well, it relaxes me…"

He could think of other ways of relaxing her.

"… then maybe read a book. Or, I find playing the piano relaxing too."

He chuckled.

She turned to him with a frown. "What? If you're going to make fun of me…" she said defensively, leaning away from him.

He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. "Nah, I was just thinkin', it sounds so… cultured. Very you, Harry."

"So what did you do then?" she asked.

Nothing like that.

"Err, I used to go for a beer and read the paper in a local bar, that was until some crazy broad tried to put a bullet in me," he pointed out.

She turned to him sympathetically. "It must have been hard for you at first, not knowing anyone here."

"Yeah well, I found another place to hang out," he replied. "But I never looked at the barmaid in the same way again!"

"Hmm, I can imagine."

"Then I usually picked up a take-out and went home to eat it, watched some TV, then went to bed," he finished.

She contemplated him for a moment. He was right, it was odd that neither of them had known before now what the other had done once they had left work.

They sat, more relaxed in each other's company now, and just enjoyed the moment, that was until Harry felt Dempsey tense suddenly and looked up to see a particularly nasty looking biker make a lewd tongue gesture at her. Dempsey went to pounce out of his seat but Harry reached for his hand in a panic and held him there.

"Just ignore him," she urged.

Luckily, some other bikers came between them and the man, blocking his view.

"He tries anythin' like that again an' I'll break his face!" Dempsey growled back.

She wriggled closer to him, drawing his attention away from the trouble. "So protective of me Dempsey," she smiled.

"Yeah, well, it's a man's job to protect a woman," he replied, bracing himself for the comeback from that comment. He preempted her though instead. "I know ya don't like it Harry, but… don't you ever just give in to your womanhood?" he asked, a smile returning to his face.

She tried not to encourage him but a smile threatened her too. Anyway, she was feeling daring tonight.

"Oh yes, I give in with pleasure, under the right circumstances," she answered, the smile slowly developing.

His body began throbbing again. Grrr. Okay, but what were the right damn circumstances?

"Ooh," she said suddenly, "now that's my favourite colour."

His head shot round. "Where?"

"Over there," she said, "The blouse that woman is wearing. Oh, but she's disappeared around the other side of the bar."

Dempsey went to rise out of his seat. "I'm just gonna…" but then he noticed that knucklehead biker standing nearby and changed his mind. "It don't matter," he said.

Harry picked up her wine glass and grinned to herself behind it, taking a sip and placing the glass back down.

With Dempsey contemplating the colour of the mysterious woman's blouse, they were interrupted again by Mike, who placed two shot glasses of clear liquid on the table in front of them.

"Here, on the house," he said, winking at Harry before returning to the bar with another glance over his shoulder at her.

"That guy must really love bein' your informant," Dempsey commented.

Harry chuckled and picked up one of the shot glasses. "The alcohol will probably kill the germs," she assured him.

"Let's hope so," he said, clinking with her and drinking back the shot. "Woa! What is that?"

She shuddered and placed the empty glass back on the table. "I'm not sure, but it's potent," she replied.

"Sure is," he agreed.

"I really should slow down on this kind of drink," she added, feeling the effects of the shot already. "I plan to remember tonight."

This got Dempsey's attention. "Yeah, whys that?" he asked.

She grinned. "You know why."

Hmm, yes, he did. "Whatever happened to wild and reckless?" he countered.

"What's the point in being wild and reckless and not remembering it?" she said.

His eyes twinkled at hers. "Oh, you'll remember it," he grinned back.

Her gaze flitted over his face whilst his hormones ran riot again. Then she broke eye contact, pointing out,

"Looks like trouble is brewing over there."

Dempsey had been oblivious to the fight that was breaking out across the bar.

"I could arrest them," she suggested.

Dempsey had had enough of that bar. Time for further seduction in a more fitting place. He grabbed her hand and stood.

"Nah, let's get outta here!"