She wakes up to the sound of her phone buzzing. Her mouth feels fuzzy and disgusting, and there's an icepick digging into her temples.

"Hnnnng shut the fuck uuup," she mutters, fingers fumbling for her cell. She grabs it and answers with a growl, "What?"

"Maka?"

She blinks. "Tsubaki?"

"Maka! Where the hell are you? Is everything ok?"

"Huh? Yeah, everything's fine - "

"Where are you?" her roommate demands, and Maka's brain starts to come online enough to register the hysterical note in Tsubaki's voice.

Maka blinks again and stares at the coffee table. For a moment, she doesn't know how to respond, but the two shot glasses and the depleted bottle of vodka give her a clue, and she tamps down burgeoning panic. A quick glance tells her she's still fully clothed.

"Ah. Um..."

"Maka."

She winces at the sound of Tsubaki's ire. "I'm at Soul's. I fell asleep on the futon after work last night," she says. She can hear her sigh of relief over the phone.

"Ok, good. You scared the hell out of me! I know how dangerous this case is and I thought something might have happened - "

"Thanks, Tsubaki. It's cool, I'm all right."

"Can you at least like...call or something before you go spending the night with strange men?"

Maka rolls her eyes. "I didn't intend to stay. Also, he's strange, but ah, not really a stranger."

"You've known him for what, a day?"

"Technically longer," Maka mutters, rubbing at her eyes. They ache in her head, right along with everything else. She can practically hear the unimpressed stare Tsubaki gives her over the phone.

"I don't think that the, what - week, when you thought he was a danger to your mission and you stalked him counts, Maka."

"I did not stalk him," she hisses. "Can we not have this discussion right now? I'll be home in a bit, ok?"

Tsubaki snorts lightly. "I'll see you in a few, then."

The line goes dead and Maka checks the time. It's barely 9am. What the fuck, Tsubaki. She shoves her phone into the pocket of her shorts, and hauls herself off the couch. The door to Soul's bedroom is shut, and pale morning light streams into the apartment. She rotates her neck and shoulders, wincing a little at the aching pops, then grabs the shot glasses and vodka, taking them into the kitchen.

Maka rinses the shot glasses and gets herself a glass of water in the process; she does her best to keep the noise down, but she hears a faint creak and looks up to see Soul leaning against his bedroom doorframe. For a moment, there's a dryness in her throat and mouth that has nothing to do with the fact that she's hungover and didn't get to brush her teeth last night, and everything to do with the way the sunlight hits his tangled, wild hair and plays across his bare chest. Her eyes rake over his face and chest, cataloguing swollen skin and bruises that are just beginning to show.

He blinks at her blearily, and she blinks back, taking another long swig of water. It doesn't do much to help the dryness in her mouth. "Sorry," she manages eventually. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Soul shrugs and pushes himself off the doorframe, and she wonders if the apartment actually shrinks, or if it's just her, because suddenly he's in the shitty little kitchenette with her, and it's definitely not large enough for two people.

"It's no big. I would have gotten up soon anyway." It's not exactly a lie, but Soul doesn't think Maka needs to know that he spent most of the night staring at the ceiling and trying not to recall in vivid detail the way her hips felt under his hands, or how her neck tasted as he pressed her up against the wall.

His eyes dart briefly to the glaring red hickey on the side of her neck and he feels bad for liking the way it looks - until he notices that Maka's eyes are having a hard time focusing on his face, and they keep...drifting. She's definitely staring at his chest - and his stomach?

Experimentally, he slides a hand along his waistband and watches as her face gets pinker. His mouth stretches into a full blown smirk as he casually cups his junk and gives himself a good, lazy scratch. Maka's flush spreads all the way down to her chest. "See something you like?" He can't help himself.

Maka snaps her eyes back up to his face and takes in his lazy grin, and, despite knowing that her cheeks are burning in embarrassment, manages to raise her chin and arch an eyebrow. "Nothing I'd write home about," she says. Maka isn't expecting his low chuckle in response.

"Kitten's feisty in the mornings, hm?"

"Kitten is hung the fuck over," she replies, refilling her water glass. She gives him a little glare. "How's your face? Been friendly with any more brick walls this morning?"

He ghosts a hand over his eyebrow and prods his lip, and grimaces a little. "No, thankfully. The one wall was enough."

Maka had been trying to distract from the fact that she was staring. All she really manages is to start fixating on his swollen lip instead. "If it hurts, don't poke it, stupid," she mutters.

"I have a nasty habit of not being able to leave well enough alone," he chuckles.

That's the fucking truth, she thinks. Instead, she rolls her eyes and says, "I don't suppose you have something I could take for this hangover? Aspirin, ibuprofen?" His teeth flash in a grin, and she narrows her eyes.

"I think I can find something," he says, and then Maka realizes that what she had thought was close proximity before may as well have been the Grand Canyon. Soul reaches past her, and she's treated to an up close and very personal view of his surprisingly sculpted arms and tanned skin. She inhales sharply and realizes that was a mistake, too because her nose is assaulted with the musky smell of guy. It's a little sweat, a little deodorant, and something that she's starting to associate strictly with Soul.

"Here you go." Still smirking, he drops a bottle of Excedrin into her palm and exits her orbit.

Maka lets out the breath she forgot that she was holding and scowls a little before knocking back two pills and chugging the glass of water.

"Thanks," she murmurs, and rinses her glass. "Thanks for letting me crash, too. I know it's not far to my place, but last night, and-"

"Hey, it's cool. No problem," he replies, and Maka is convinced that he's leaning against the counter like that on purpose now, because people don't just normally...lounge all over things, shirtless and barefoot with sinful bed hair. "Thanks for cleaning up."

"It was the least I could do, especially after - " she waves her hand at the vodka bottle. "Anyway, Tsubaki called earlier wondering where I was, so..."

"Your roommate?"

"Yeah." Maka skirts around him in the narrow space, just managing to not touch him or to blush any harder, and jams her feet into her boots. "She's gonna be pissed if I'm not back soon."

"Protective much?"

Maka gives him an odd little smile. "I told you - she knows who I am and what I do. It's nice to have someone to look out for me, you know?"

He doesn't know, not really, but he nods anyway. The best he's got is the field office, but he's usually the one to contact them. He shudders to think that Black*Star would probably the first person to know if something happened to him - and Soul's not entirely sure if it would be because he was missed or because Black*Star would be involved. It's a strange feeling, one that he hasn't bothered to examine since he first took this job.

"You all right?"

"Hm? Yeah." Soul gives her a little smile and pushes those thoughts back to the back of his brain. In the long run, it doesn't really matter, he thinks.

Tsubaki is waiting for her when she slips in the front door. Maka isn't expecting breakfast, especially after the frantic phone call from her roommate this morning, but a pot of coffee at least would have been nice. Instead, the dark-haired woman sits on one of their barstools and barely refrains from tapping her feet.

Her arms are crossed though, and Maka knows the irritated foot-tapping is only a matter of time. She eases past Tsubaki and into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee pot. She pulls down the filters and hears the tapping start. Maka's never made a pot of coffee so fast in her life.

She's just flicked the button to "On" when she hears Tsubaki inhale.

"You spent the night? With the guy who, until yesterday morning, you were convinced was going to completely blow your cover and get you killed?"

Maka flushes. "It wasn't like that, I told you. I was tired and we were drinking - " One sculpted eyebrow shoots up. "It was a really bad day, ok?"

Tsubaki immediately softens, ire completely forgotten. "What happened?"

By the time Maka finishes relaying the somewhat edited details of yesterday, the coffee's done and she feels completely exhausted again. Tsubaki accepts the mug Maka hands her and takes a sip.

"Medusa, huh? I suppose that explains the liquor." She looks at her friend critically. "Are you going to be ok?" Maka mumbles something into her coffee mug and Tsubaki narrows her eyes. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Maka blows on the steaming beverage and doesn't quite meet Tsubaki's eyes. "I said that we ah, might have done shots. Like. A lot of shots."

Tsubaki sighs heavily, but Maka catches the fleeting hint of a smile. "Did you at least outdrink him?"

Maka grins, "Clear under the table."

"Good girl."

Tsubaki sits with her, quiet as Maka makes a couple of pieces of toast for breakfast. She understands the implications of Maka's discoveries, perhaps better than most. She remembers the tense silences, late nights, and insomnia. It had been nearly a month before Maka stopped having nightmares every time she closed her eyes. She refused time off, stayed late, did everything in her power to make sure that Medusa was stopped, and it hadn't been enough. Watching that woman walk out of the courthouse a free woman was almost as traumatic for Maka as losing her rookie trainees had been.

Tsubaki is relieved to see not fear or anger in her roommate's eyes this time, but calm determination. She glances over at her best friend. "You know I just worry, right?"

Maka gives her a little smile that she can't quite decipher. "Yeah, Tsu. I know." She soaks up a little bit of melted butter with the last bite of her toast. "We're partners now, though. That's gotta mean something in our line of work."

"Even after a day?" Tsubaki hates the way that comes out, pessimistic at best, but it needs to be said.

Maka doesn't know how to explain it. There's something sacred about a partner, a level of implicit trust and acceptance that it would normally take months to build up - the necessity of forging it immediately. It was made abundantly clear to Maka last night that she and Soul don't have the luxury of time to get used to each other. It's been all or nothing since she arrested him, and he's already proven he's on board.

She settles on, "It's hard to explain," and doesn't look away from Tsubaki's worried gaze. After a moment, the brunette nods, and Maka's reminded that they're best friends for a reason - that her Tsubaki, skilled as she is as a psychologist, doesn't need a diploma to understand Maka and her issues and the weight of her decision to trust Special Agent Soul Evans.

"Alright, then. I've got your back if you need me."

"I know." Maka returns her smile, and wonders how she managed to keep a friend so amazing. "I think I'm going to lay down for a bit." She rinses her plate and mug and throws them unceremoniously into the dishwasher.

"Still hungover?" Tsubaki grins at Maka's half-hearted glare. "That's not a bad idea, actually. I might join you."

"Suit yourself," she says, eyes on the prize that is her welcoming mattress. Tsubaki's door is open and as she passes it, she vaguely registers that Tsubaki's bed is still made, and thinks it odd that her roommate, now sharing a night shift with her, might be awake at the ungodly hour of 9am. She glances back at Tsubaki, whose face is beginning to pinken.

"Tsubaki - was there a particular reason you were up so early?"

"I, ah, couldn't sleep," she stammers, face getting redder, "Have a good napgoodnight."

The words tumble out in a barely comprehensible rush and then Tsubaki is breezing past, her door clicking shut, and leaving a very suspicious Maka in her wake. She shakes her head and determines that she'll pry out whatever it is Tsubaki's trying to cover up once they're both less sleep-deprived.

She wakes to the sound of her phone buzzing again, chasing fleeting images of tan skin, a hot, sharp mouth, and cool walls from her mind. Blearily, Maka wonders if this is, in fact, what hell is like.

"Hello?" Maka tries to keep the irritation out of her voice, and is pretty sure she fails spectacularly.

"Kitten?" Maka blinks blearily.

"Liz? 'sat you?"

"Yeah. You free later?"

"Um, I think? Gotta go in to Chupa Cabra's tonight, though." She's not exactly firing on all cylinders, but there's something in her contact's voice that indicates a moderate level of urgency.

"I'll meet you at the coffee shop, say, 4?"

"Yeah, I can do that," she mumbles, staring at the blinking red of her digital clock.

"See you then," Liz singsongs, and then there's the dial tone, and Maka wonders if the conversation actually happened at all.

"Fuckit," she mumbles and rolls out of bed. She at least managed a couple more hours of sleep. Another cup of coffee and a hot shower will hopefully erase the last vestiges of her hangover, and then she can focus on what the hell Liz might want that's so important.

It's not the vibrating of his phone that startles Soul out of his sleep, but the crash it makes as it buzzes itself and several dollars worth of change right off the coffee table. He sits up, hand going for a gun that isn't there. Belatedly, he realizes he's still in his sleep pants - his gun is still on his nightstand.

He appears to be developing a habit of crashing on the futon, and he's not sure that his neck is going to be able to take much more. Soul deftly ignores the fact that when he laid down after Maka had scooted out the front door, he fell asleep with the smell of her in his nose. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans.

His phone buzzes again, insistent in its reminder that he has an unread text. Soul grunts and gropes around until he finds it, squinting at the screen. He's completely unsurprised to see that it's from Black*Star.

BURGERS, BITCH. THEN WE FIND THOSE FUCKERS WHO TOOK OUR SHIT. SEE U IN 10.

Soul remains mystified that his boss can punctuate every sentence, but refuses to type out "you." Every. Time. He rolls the rest of the way off the couch and stumbles into the bathroom. If he's lucky, he can probably at least get most of yesterday's funk off and some of the ache out of his muscles before the Black*Star Mobile arrives in all its obnoxious glory.

She slips out of the shower and hopes that Tsubaki hadn't planned on using it anytime soon. Maka is fairly certain that she managed to use up every ounce of hot water. On the plus side, she almost feels like a real girl again. If Tsubaki yells, she'll claim it's a sacrifice for the greater good, she decides, pulling on a pair of faded jeans and a tank top. She tries to stuff her feet into her boots as she scrawls a quick note to her roommate, then grabs her hoodie as she heads out the door.

Maka checks her mail on the way out of the lobby and frowns. It's been several days since she'd sent off her last report to Kid, and even with - hell, especially with - the changes that have occurred, she had expected to get something back from him by now, even if it was just a "Carry on" note. She really wants to get her hands on those records about Black*Star and see if there's something there she can use, or with Soul's help, something that she can add. She sighs and shuts the box. It is Saturday, after all. Whatever he might have sent probably won't arrive until Monday at least.

3:30pm on a Saturday afternoon means the coffee shop is pretty chill. There are a few students from DCU around - she can tell from the frantic looks on their faces, hunched over laptops and or enormous science books, frantically finishing or starting the work that they'd ignored the rest of the week. She doesn't have to be a detective to discern that, though. She remembers being there, even if it feels like a lifetime ago - like the whole thing happened to a different person. In a way, she supposes that it did.

She takes her coffee to one of the tables outside to wait for Liz and curls up in a chair, knees nearly to her chin. The sun is still warm, even though it's technically fall, and it's days like today that she really misses being a day-dweller. She sips at the coffee, trying and failing to not burn her tongue when her phone goes off in her pocket. She glares mutely at the screen cheerfully telling her she has a new message from Soul.

Investigating thugs w/B*S. Catch you up tonight, private room at CC's?

It takes her a second to parse, but comprehension dawns and she grins a little. Maka is about to tap out a response when the scrape of metal on concrete sends a jolt of terror through her. She locks her phone automatically and looks up, eyes wide.

Liz shoots her a little grin from across the table and Maka exhales slowly.

"Hey there, Kitten," she greets her warmly, and Maka returns the smile.

"Hey yourself." She shifts in her seat, takes a sip of her coffee. "What's new with you?"

"Mm, not much. Saw my boy today," she adds casually, and Maka tries not to visibly perk up. She'd seen Kid?

"Oh really? How's he doing?"

"He's great. Said that he took a look at the draft that you sent him, and had some feedback for you. He would have waited, but thought you might want it right away, given that your ah, deadline, has changed."

Liz pulls out a neat manilla folder from her oversized purse, and Maka's heart feels like it's lodged in her esophagus. She wants to go ahead and open the folder and see what goodies Kid managed to dig up for her, but she resists and instead just smiles wider.

"That's great, Liz! Tell him thank you for me - I can't wait to go over it later."

Across the little cafe table, Liz gives her a smile and a wink. "I'll make sure that he knows."

"Thanks." Another sip of coffee, and Maka tries not to think about that folder. "How's Pattie doing?"

"She went to go visit Cherry today. She's still in the hospital."

"Still? I would have thought she would at least be out and at home by now."

"Nah. They're keeping her for observation." Liz is a little too nonchalant about the whole thing, and Maka narrows her eyes. "Pattie's hoping she can provide some encouragement."

"Is she coming back to work?"

Liz shrugs. "I'm not sure, to be honest." They exchange glances, and don't talk about how they hope for Cherry's sake that she doesn't have to come back.

Tension stretches between them, hard to define - Maka is acutely aware of the fact that, no matter what her job consists of currently, this isn't her life, her reality. Though she lives dangerously, ultimately she's playacting at a life that is everyday real for Liz and Pattie and Cherry, and the hundreds of girls like them across the city.

She shifts uncomfortably and Liz gently grabs her wrist. "Hey, don't worry about it. I'm sure she'll be fine," she says. Maka wants to press the issue, but there is a sharp understanding in Liz's eyes, so instead she nods.

"I'm sure you're right."

"Of course I am," she says briskly. Liz leans in with a predatory smile. "Now, tell me what Blair was going on about between you and the scrumptious Eater."

Maka can feel her face flush at the description, but she gives Liz a little smirk. Telling Blair about her new "relationship" had been an even better decision than she could have hoped for.

"What can I say? He turned out to be a very like-minded individual."

The warehouse looks effectively the same as it did yesterday, which is to say still run down and faintly menacing. Soul's body aches just thinking about their run in with the gang - or maybe it's the cheap burgers they wolfed down earlier.

"So you dragged me all the way out here again, to track down the guys who jumped us?"

"Of course!"

Soul rolls his eyes. "That has got to be the stupidest fucking thing - "

"The hell it is! It's brilliant! We're going to track those fuckers down and take back Giriko's shit. I want that asshole off my back."

Soul lets out a frustrated huff and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. Realistically, it's not that bad of an idea, especially given it came from Black*Star. The problem is, Black*Star is almost preternaturally lucky, and the last thing that Soul wants is for him to find any clues that will lead them to the mysterious thugs.

He keeps a sharp eye out as they leave Black*Star's vehicle. The pavement of the abandoned lot is still cracked and broken, resilient weeds adding a surprising amount of greenery to the tableau. Soul remembers there being a lot more blood yesterday, and wonders just how much of it was soaked up by the pavement and those resilient little weeds.

"So when you called the Cleaner yesterday, what'd he say?"

Black*Star scowls. "He said when he got here, there wasn't anything." He kicks viciously at one of the weeds.

"What, nothing?"

"Nothing. Why do you think Giriko was tryna crawl up our asses last night?"

"Dunno, I figured he just liked the view," Soul retorts, attempting to examine the ground in a way that won't make him look like he's actually investigating. Black*Star lets out a hearty guffaw, and Soul cracks a small smile.

He's not perhaps the best the FBI has to offer when it comes to tracking people, but Soul's got a head for strategy and tactics, and he has a clear memory of how the ill-advised fight from yesterday went down. He's standing in a spot that would have been drenched in blood. Even assuming evaporation and exceptionally thirsty weeds, there should have been some evidence left when the Cleaner got there. Instead, the ground is eerily clean - especially for broken up pavement.

Soul keeps his mouth shut and trails behind his boss for hours. The warehouse is the first in a small chain of neglected and abandoned warehouses that Soul hadn't paid attention to during their first trip out here. For his part, Black*Star stomps around the entirety of the warehouse, inside and out, but doesn't seem to pay much mind to the other buildings or their surroundings. It isn't as though he's stupid, Soul thinks, just that he's so focused on finding something he's sure is there, that he completely overlooks clues that should be screaming at him. Soul files it all away for later, and makes non-committal noises when Black*Star asks for his opinion.

"Dude, you're not very helpful," Black*Star comments.

Soul shrugs. "It's not really my thing. I have no idea what you're even trying to find - how can I look for something if I don't know what it is?"

"Man you'll just know."

"It's getting dark, man. I don't think we're gonna find whatever it is in the dark, even if you did know what it was." Soul says it as casually as possible. He knows what Black*Star can be like if he gets something stuck in his head, and Soul has zero desire to spend the bulk of his evening wandering around a warehouse they've already been over and possibly destroying what clues he was able to find in the first place. Black*Star lets out a heavy, annoyed sigh, and Soul resists the urge to do a victory dance.

"Yeah, all right. Fuckit. I'm hungry again anyway. Let's go get some grub."

Soul's not entirely sure what he was expecting when Black*Star pulls into the diner parking lot, but he's not expecting his boss to wipe his palms on his pants and shoot Soul a slightly panicked look.

"How do I look?"

Soul's eyebrows creep towards his hairline. "Uh...fiiine?"

Black*Star nods once and plasters on his usual grin. He's out of the SUV a second later, and Soul scrambles to follow, lest Black*Star decide to lock him in the car again for "being slow."

Black*Star pauses right before the door, vibrating with tension. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. It looks strange and out of place, Soul thinks - the idea that there's something that Black*Star has to prepare himself for - something that he's actually nervous about. The bell over the door rings pleasantly and they're greeted with the scent of deliciously greasy diner food, kitschy 1950's decor, and the bright, sincere smile of a gorgeous waitress.

"Hi, welcome to Joe's~"

Black*Star straightens a little and swaggers over to the counter, pulling up a stool. The waitress, Soul vaguely recognizes her from a few of the other times they've eaten here, turns her megawatt smile on Black*Star.

"Hey, 'Baki."

Soul blinks. Is Black*Star...trying to pitch his voice deeper? What's even stranger is that it looks like it's working. The dark-haired woman blushes and tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear.

"Hey, Black*Star." Their gazes linger a little too long on each other. "What can I get you two?"

"Coffee," Soul says, eyes sharp.

Black*Star grins at her, "Coke, please." The woman smiles again and bustles down the counter to the drink machine. Black*Star watches her go intently.

"Is this your 'bigger prize'?"

Black*Star punches him on the arm and Soul almost drops his menu. "Dude, shut the fuck up. I told you, she's different."

"And you were giving me shit about tapping a waitress?" Soul grins and Black*Star returns it.

"My waitress isn't flat-chested and pissy, bro," he retorts. Soul rolls his eyes. A moment later, the woman returns with their drinks, and Black*Star turns his smile on her.

"Do you boys know what you want?"

"Yeah," Black*Star gives him a look. "You good, Eater?" If he hadn't been looking at her, Soul wouldn't have noticed the slight way her shoulders tense, and she darts her eyes to his. He blinks.

"I'll have my usual, 'Baki," Black*Star blurts out, drawing her attention back to him. She smiles and nods, but it looks a little forced.

"Patty melt and fries," Soul adds when she glances at him again.

"Alright. That'll be up shortly," she says and then she's gone.

Soul doesn't miss the way Black*Star's gaze follows her again. "Man, you really got it bad, huh?"

Black*Star hunches a little, giving Soul a sidelong look. "I dunno what you're talking about. She's hot, that's all."

"You can't keep your eyes off of her and you asked me how you looked before we came in here. That's serious, bro."

"Mebbe so. I dunno, she's just, really special. Tsubaki's the kind of woman who can really make a man like me shine even brighter."

That was downright poetic and a little disturbing, given that this was Black*Star. Soul shakes his head, smiling slightly. His coffee is halfway to his lips when a thought strikes him, and Soul stops.

"What did you say her name was, again?

"Tsubaki," Black*Star practically breathes her name.

Fuck.

They roll up into the club a little later than normal thanks to their diner escapade, and Soul's first order of business is to find Blair - which of course means that she's nowhere in sight. He stakes out the main bar and indicates to the bartender that he wants to talk with her. Eventually, he hopes, word will get back to her. He's still waiting, sipping on his drink when Maka finds him.

She looks irritated, but with her hair in pigtails and the crop-top/tiny gym shorts combo that comprise tonight's outfit, the effect is somewhat spoiled. Mostly, he thinks, she just looks adorable. She smiles for the benefit of the bartender, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey baby," Soul drawls.

"Hey. Where you been?" Her tone is clipped and ah, that's her issue.

"Black*Star wanted to eat out. Sorry I didn't get a chance to give you a heads up." She cosies up with a small smile, hand placed delicately on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her close. "You get my text earlier?" he whispers.

"Mm, yeah. Bambi wanted to met me for coffee though, so I didn't get a chance to text you back." She leans closer to reply, voice is low in his ear.

"We really need to talk," he mumbles.

"I know - "

"Oooh. What a precious little pair of lovebirds we have here~"

Startled, Maka tries to back away from her partner, but Soul merely tightens his grip on her waist. "Hi, Blair. I was looking for you," he says, smirk plastered on his face.

She slides onto the barstool next to Soul, lips curling into a pleased grin. "So I heard. What did you wanna talk to me about, lover-boy?" She flicks a long strand of hair behind her shoulder in a practiced gesture.

"I wanted to see if I could get one of the VIP rooms tonight." His voice is low, a little smarmy, and Maka's reminded of why she was so damn wary of Soul in the first place. He's massaging small circles into her skin, slow and possessive, and she wonders if he's even aware he's doing it.

"A VIP room? Pumpkin, you don't need to ask me for that, you know."

"I do if I wanna pay to have a little...special entertainment." He squeezes Maka's side almost imperceptibly, and she lets out a vacuous little giggle. The corners of Blair's mouth twitch down slightly.

"I know our little Kitten is hot stuff, but this is getting out of hand." Soul and Maka blink and exchange a quick glance. "Normally, I would love to give you two a little private one-on-one, especially if I'm getting paid, but I'm already down a dancer, and I really can't be down a server too, and my little kitty cat here is a server, so that's what she's going to do." Blair slides right back out of her barstool, and gives them a look, nodding once as she decides something. "Yes, that's it. Tonight, you're going to have to get your pussy fix elsewhere, lover-boy. Or wait. Kitten is not up for private parties right now!"

Maka wonders if her face looks as red as it feels. She looks between Soul and Blair; there is a moment when she wants to panic, but she takes a shallow, steadying breath and puts on a pout instead. She curls in closer to Soul, drapes an arm around his shoulders, and presses her body flush against his. Maka focuses on Blair and tries to ignore the way she can feel Soul's every breath and the thudding of his heart as she trails light fingers over his chest.

"But Blaaaair~ can't I keep him? Just for a little bit?" Soul's grip on her waist tightens and she has to remember to breathe normally.

"No, and you can stop pouting. I don't care how adorable you are, I am putting my foot down!" She stamps one delicately heeled foot for emphasis. "As long as you're a server, no more private pants parties at work!"

She's on the verge of gaping at her boss, but Soul merely chuckles and presses a quick kiss to her collarbone. "If you say so. I guess I can wait for my pussy cat," he says, mouth stretched wide in a shit-eating grin. Oh, she is going to punch him for that later.

"Yes, I think you can. And," she adds slyly, "in the meantime, you can still enjoy a private room with one of our lovely, available ladies."

Soul makes a neutral noise that could be agreement, or perhaps not, but Maka seizes on Blair's words, mind working furiously over the problem. If they can't meet while she's at work, at least she can still get Soul to grab that bug - and she knows just how, too. She tightens her grip on Soul's shoulder.

"We'll see," he replies. Maka plays up her pout a little more, and clings closer.

"Can you give us a minute, boss?"

Blair gives her a little smile and a knowing wink. "Make it quick, Kitten, I see some unattended tables out there."

"Mm, thank you," she practically purrs, then she's hopping onto Soul's barstool, firmly planting her ass on his lap. She hears Blair laugh as she turns to leave.

"M - Kitten, what - " He wraps his arms around her hips reflexively, pulling her closer and keeping her from shifting too much. She can hear his heartbeat increase as she wraps her arms around his neck, and presses her lips close to his ear.

"Listen," she breathes almost too quiet to hear, "I need you to hit up Giriko's usual room and retrieve the bug I planted. It's in the track lighting above the minibar." She wiggles against him just a little, and he tightens his grip, lips planted at the juncture of her jaw and her neck.

"I can't go in by myself." He squeezes her ass, and she giggles. It sounds like a gunshot in his ears.

"Get Bambi, tell her I sent you," she follows up. He pulls back just far enough to give her a skeptical look, she darts in and presses her lips to his with a soft, "Trust me."

His mouth doesn't ache quite as badly as it did yesterday, and he finds her lips all the more enjoyable for it. He tries not to contemplate what kissing Maka would feel like without the remnants of a split lip, and kind of hopes that he gets a chance to find out. Lips still moving against his, she slides out of his lap.

He breaks the kiss and murmurs a soft, "Okay." She gives him a little grin, and tugs him off of the chair.

"She's got a free set now," Maka says at normal volume. "You should be able to catch her."

"Okay, okay. Jesus, woman. Never seen a girl so eager for me to get a lapdance from another woman before." He turns to go, and she gives him a noisey slap on the ass.

"Gotta keep you entertained until I can get off later."

He shoots her a wicked smirk that has nothing to do with their respective roles, and she rolls her eyes and grins. "Yes ma'am," is all he says before disappearing into the crowd.

She watches him go and hopes that whatever it is he needs to talk to her about can wait until later tonight.

The situation is more familiar than he would like it to be, but instead of him sitting in a chair and waiting for his evening's covert interview, he's staring at row of track lighting and wondering if he can find and get Maka's bug down before Bambi gets in. He's not had much experience with the dancer other than a couple notable conversations. He assumes that she's Maka's informant, but he's not sure how much she knows, and he'd rather err on the side of caution.

He thinks he can get the bug down. He wants a chair, but they're all all bolted down or part of a sofa. With a grumble, he clamors onto the minibar and hopes that it holds under his weight. Without its assistance, he's too short to reach the track lights; with it, he has to hunch to not slam his head into the ceiling. He's just spotted the damn thing when the door opens a crack and he freezes.

Bambi slips in the door, and for a brief moment, Soul holds out the hope that she won't notice him, awkwardly crouched on the minibar like a really bad version of Batman. It's futile, he knows, and a second later she notices him. To her credit, she doesn't shriek or yell, just closes the door and raises two perfectly cultivated eyebrows at him.

"Do I want to know?"

"Kitten said to tell you she sent me?"

She laughs lightly. "I figured as much. She told me earlier that you two had...a lot in common, and she was lucky to have found a partner like you."

Soul somehow doubts that Maka phrased it quite like that. "We really do." He goes ahead and pulls down the bug and holds it up for her to see. Bambi nods. He hops down and does a quick sweep of the room. Maka didn't mention putting in any other devices, but Soul doesn't trust Arachnophobia not to attempt to keep tabs on its own members. It takes him a few minutes, but there's nothing that he can find, and he gives her a nod. Even still, Bambi keeps her voice low.

"That's it. Kitten thinks it might have something nice and valuable on it."

Soul nods and slips it into his pocket. He's not sure what the little bug might have caught, but hopefully it has what Maka hopes is on it. They could really use a break. He glances at the dancer. They've only managed to kill about fifteen minutes.

"So, ah. What do we do now?"

She grins. "How do you feel about cards?"

Soul's waiting for her when she gets done with her shift. Most of the lights are off, and she slides out the back door quickly and quietly. If she hadn't been paying attention, he might have gotten the drop on her, but her senses have been on high alert since Giriko's presence stopped being merely irritating and started being threatening. She gives him a little grin when he oozes out of the shadows, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Gonna have to try harder than that if you want to get the drop on me."

He returns her smile as they start to walk. "I'll work on that. Rough night?"

She rolls her neck. "What makes you say that?"

"Dunno, probably cause I didn't manage to catch more than a glimpse of you after our little talk with Blair."

"Well, you know Saturday nights." He hums in agreement, and she gives him a little look. "Did you have fun with Bambi?"

Soul shakes his right-hand pocket at her and gives her a little smirk. "We had a pretty productive time of it. She taught me how to play Bridge." Maka can't tell whether or not he's joking and isn't sure she wants to know anyway. She shakes her head, glad that he managed to get the bug. It's about time they got some kind of break.

"You said we needed to talk?"

"Yeah, but it can wait until we get back to my place. Had a pretty illuminating day all around."

She doesn't like the grim tone of his voice; it sets off little alarm bells in the back of her head, but if it's something sensitive, she can wait. The night is cool, especially after the heavy, enclosed atmosphere of the club, and for once Maka doesn't mind that the buses don't run this late. Even still, she keeps a sharp eye out as they walk back to Soul's apartment, and is reassured to see that he does similarly.

When he shuts the door to his efficiency, they both let out a small sigh, and Soul heads straight for the kitchenette and the coffee pot. Maka snatches up her notebook from its hiding place.

"You got a computer we can use?"

"Yeah. It's in my room." He waves in the general direction of his door, and Maka takes that as permission; she pushes the door open the rest of the way and peers in. The only nice piece of furniture is the bed. Everything else looks like it might have been salvaged from various dumpsters around town. It reminds her of the first apartment she and Tsubaki rented when they were both still in school. More than that though, she's shocked by how tidy everything is, especially given the comparative sloppiness of the rest of his apartment. There are no clothes strewn across the floor, no kicked off shoes or funky laundry. In fact, the messiest thing is the bed, with its tangled sheets and pillows flung everywhere. How many pillows does one person need anyway?

On the plus side, the unexpected neatness means that it's easy for her to find the laptop in question. She grabs it and heads back into the living room. Soul's already on the futon with two cups of coffee. He holds the bug up to the light.

"Hard to believe this little thing could hold so much valuable information, huh?"

She plops down next to him. "Yeah. If we're lucky, we're going to use that little sucker to put away Giriko." She opens up the laptop and passes it over to Soul. He gives her a surprised look.

"You actually think he's given something away in that room?"

Her smile is tight and controlled. "No. I think he committed assault and battery on a defenseless woman, and I think we got evidence."

"Are you sure that's going to be enough?" He wants it to be enough, but working in the FBI, he's seen too many Girikos go through the system on lesser charges only to walk free.

She shoots him a look out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know. Liz - Bambi - brought me info from Kid today." He raises an eyebrow. "I asked for some background on your little pal Black*Star before we, ah. Partnered up." Soul stiffens almost imperceptibly next to her, but she doesn't seem to notice. "Part of what Kid sent included some more info on Cherry. If this little thing has the video evidence, she's agreed to testify against him."

"She'd do that?"

"For the chance to get out of here and start a new life? Yes." Maka rolls her shoulders. "You're right, though. I don't know that it will be enough. I don't think we can make Giriko squeal on Medusa if we haul him in. I think Arachnophobia's still got too much power to throw around. He feels safe." She clenches a fist. "I don't know how to make him afraid, and I really want to."

She's not expecting the warm hand on her shoulder. "I'd like to make that little shit afraid, too." He squeezes lightly, and she gives him a small, wan smile.

"I know. And I know that we gotta focus on the bigger picture, too. If we can't get him to roll, and can't keep him - "

"We'll figure out something. I don't think this is going to be a waste of our time, for what that's worth." On the coffee table, the little laptop whirs slowly to life and Soul resists the familiar urge to shake it, like that's somehow going to make it work faster. "Sorry, it's government issue."

Maka chuckles and sips her coffee. "So what's had you so antsy tonight?"

He keeps his gaze focused on the laptop. "I think we stand a good chance of following up on those thugs who stole Giriko's package. Black*Star and I went back by the warehouse today. He didn't really seem to know what to look for, and I didn't point out what I found, but I think you and I should head back there tomorrow and see what we can follow up on."

"Mm. That's not a bad idea." She smiles and stretches a little. "I could really get behind some good old fashioned police work."

"I'm sure that could be arranged. You wanna meet me here tomorrow around 2 and we'll go check it out?"

Maka nods. "Sounds good. Maybe we can catch another break. That'd be nice." She looks down at the bug again. "If this doesn't turn up anything useful, I think I'm going to scream," she confides.

"I don't blame you." Soul shifts a little and takes a sip of his coffee. He needs to tell her about Black*Star and Tsubaki, but he's not ever seen the woman before. It's been in the back of his mind all day; he could be wrong. It could be a different Tsubaki, and he doesn't particularly want to alarm her for no reason. Next to him, she twitches and squeaks a little. "You, ah? Ok?"

"Jesus, yes. It's just my," she squirms a little and digs out her phone from her pocket, "fucking phone. Who the hell - " She stops suddenly, eyes skimming across the screen.

Maka, I need you home now. Please.

The quick, terse words make her heart skip. Maka taps out a response and shoves her phone back in her pocket, a sense of panic rising in her throat. Tsubaki knows where she is, and Maka can't think of a single reason that doesn't inspire terror for why Tsubaki would need her home so urgently.

"Everything ok?" Soul's voice is low and calming.

"Genuinely? I don't know. It's Tsubaki. I gotta go, ok?" She's already up out of her seat, and heading towards the door.

"What? I can take you home if it's urgent," he offers, and she can see the way he screams FBI now, all alert attention and precise movements.

She offers a small smile. "No, it's close enough, I can run it. I need you to look at that footage, ok?"

He nods. "Let me know - "

"If I need back up, I'll let you know. If something's wrong, Tsubaki should know where my gun is in the apartment." She exhales, shakily, jamming her feet back into her boots.s

Soul strides over to the kitchen and pops open a drawer, pulling out a 9mm. "Here, take my spare. You have no idea what you might be going into." He does a swift, practiced check of the clip and the chamber, makes sure the safety's on, and hands it over.

Her smile is genuine as she takes it. "Thanks, Soul."

She's out the door and running before he can reply.