AN: Set before Chapter 13 of 'A Matter of Trust' and related to Chapter 7 of this fic. A request from /u/Bkworm4life4 who wanted Roberta to be the one to give Hetty the idea for lines.

Hetty sipped at her glass and restrained herself from pulling a face. The offending bottle was pushed away from her.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" a blonde, short-haired woman stated conversationally from behind the bar.

"Indeed," Hetty agreed. "Though, I am not normally a beer drinker."

What a sight she made; Henrietta Lange drinking beer of all things! During the day no less. She was regretting showing her support in this manner. Her taste buds might never forgive her. That was just horrible stuff.

"Even the most alcohol-pickled liver wouldn't like that stuff," the woman replied knowingly, leaning against the bar.

"Hmm," Hetty responded noncommittedly.

She couldn't really empathise as her liver was certainly not pickled. Even with all the scotch she had imbibed over the years. Though, the liquid (she hesitated on even calling it alcohol) was certainly vile. She sniffed the glass delicately and scrunched up her nose. It didn't smell too good either.

"I told Martin that that combination was going to be absolutely disgusting," Roberta Deeks continued, shaking her head.

"It is quite interesting," Hetty offered, smacking her lips together as she tried to think of what flavours were assaulting her taste buds.

None of them were particularly good flavours. In fact, they were quite odd.

"Shockingly bad, you mean," Roberta retorted with an eye roll. "No point in pussy-footing with. Martin, Hetty. You'll get nowhere."

Hetty decided not to respond to that and reached for the bottle again and peered at the label. Nothing too elaborate, it was just a sample brew. Hopefully it wouldn't go beyond that stage. Actually, she would have to make sure that it didn't. It really was quite horrible.

"How did he even come across this?" Hetty felt the need to ask.

She did not know how the human mind could come up with something so atrocious. Did the inventor have no taste buds or something.

Roberta shrugged. "I really don't know anymore. My boy is a sucker for soulful stories and colourful labels. Some guy probably told him it reminded him of his dead dolphin or something."

Hetty snorted at that. It was probably true as well. Mr Deeks did have a flair for dramatics, after all.

She set the bottle back down and picked up her glass again. There was still an awful lot of liquid left in it. She swirled it around, like you would a wine. Even that didn't make it look more appetising.

"Seriously, Hetty, you shouldn't keep drinking it. It will probably give you something," Roberta told her with genuine concern in her voice.

Hetty snorted into her drink. Unfortunately, she had drunk and eaten far worse and she was alive and kicking. A vile beer was not going to get her down. She pushed her glass away from her. It didn't mean she had to keep drinking it however. This drink wasn't been forced down her throat. Thank God.

"Pity that I couldn't keep his poor beer choices in line like I used to do with his behaviour," Roberta mused.

"What did you use to keep a young Mr Deeks in line?" Hetty asked curiously, feeling that there was a story (ahem, blackmail) there.

Roberta smirked at her. "Don't know how to deal with him?"

Hetty just arched an eyebrow in return.

"Of course you do," Roberta muttered, deflating slightly. "He always speaks of you with such awe."

It was always rather nice to be appreciated. Even if it was with a reasonable dose of fear. Hetty chuckled at the thought of Deeks talking to his mother about her. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what he said. Probably all exaggerated stuff anyway. She pulled Roberta back on track.

"How did you discipline him?"

"I sat his butt down on a chair and made him do lines until they burned into his brain."

That was rather interesting. A tried and true method of teachers everywhere.

"Mr Deeks actually sat down for them?" Hetty asked curiously.

She couldn't really imagine a young Marty Deeks being able to do that.

"If I sat him down right by me at an empty table so he wouldn't get distracted."

Ah, that made more sense. Hetty had her doubts that he would do that sort of thing without supervision.

"And this worked?"

"Never repeated the same bit of mischief twice," she replied proudly. "Except, you know, the constant talking in class."

Hetty had to chuckle at that.

"I don't think anything would keep Mr Deeks from talking."

"I think an old girlfriend actually tried duct tape but I didn't ask questions."

Hetty arched an eyebrow at that.

"Anyway," Roberta said, getting back to her original point. "Yes. I used lines on him. Worked like a charm."

"Bored him into submission."

"Exactly!" Roberta said triumphantly. "It made him think a little."

"It seems to have worked," Hetty complimented.

The mother smiled at it and shrugged.

"He wasn't a bad kid, it was just -"

"Every child needs discipline in their lives," Hetty finished knowingly, thinking of a particular child of hers.

Roberta gave her a small smile.

"It's something I could do without his father-"

Hetty held her hand up, "Say no more."

She had seen the flash of pain in the blonde's eyes at the mention or her, quite frankly, sorry excuse for an ex-husband. A look that still sometimes appeared in another blond's eyes from time to time.

"Yes, well," Roberta blustered, wiping a bit to furiously at a non-existent spot on the bar. "It worked."

"Indeed." Hetty agreed, patting her arm. "He's a fine, upstanding, passionate, young man."

"Annoying and loud, you mean," Roberta croaked out but gratitude shone in her eyes.

A look of compassion and understanding passed through both woman's eyes as they stared at each other.

Then the patrons a few tables down left, pushing all their glasses into the middle of the table.

"I'll be right back," Roberta promised her.

"No rush," Hetty replied absentmindedly.

Her eyes followed Roberta as she cleared the vacated table. Hm.

Lines. Interesting.