S1 E4 - But Here… No

Part 1 of 2

Richard Poole calmly jinks his trouser-legs up a half-inch at mid-thigh then crouches down gracefully to look into the panicked eye of the big man in front of him; the big man who is bent forward at a very steep angle, the big man whose face is turning red, the big man who only moments ago had tried to cut in on Richard's dance with Camille here in La Kaz.

The big man who is now getting a short sharp lesson in manners.

The man sees Richard's polished brogues and rolls an eye up. He tries to speak, maybe call Richard 'old man' again, but Camille's expert application of another milli-erg of force immediately erases any such thought from the visitor's head. Instead, he emits a high-pitched groan that makes Richard nod in commiseration.

"I DID warn you," Richard murmurs into the man's bulging ear then turning to whisper into the other equally red ear, "Not all tigers wear their stripes on the outside, you know." That said, he looks up the man's fearfully straining arm and right into the eyes of the tiger herself. He nods. She nods, shifts her grip, and runs the man right out of the room and into the street as if she's pushing a wheelbarrow of garbage to the trash heap.

Fidel and Dwayne stand right behind Richard, keeping the man's three companions at bay. The officers jerk their chins to these men (who are a bit less drunk and a whole lot more aware of their danger) who turn and quick-step out of La Kaz under a blue escort.

As Richard goes back to his table, he hears his officers informing the companions of just who exactly their drunk friend had tried to pick a fight with this night – and wasn't it their bad luck to run into Sainte-Marie's top cop and his wife out on their Friday night date?

Richard pops a finger up, signaling his tea has gone cold. He doesn't even have to look. He knows he has the eye of every single person in the room. Camille Bordey-Poole at full throttle is something to behold… and he should know! His tea is refreshed instantly.

Moments later, Camille falls back into her vacant chair, laughing merrily and pushing the hair back off her face. She is chuckling, happy, completely in control, and exciting her partner in no uncertain terms! "There!" she huffs, "All done! Those tourists are gonna have a great story to tell their buddies when they get home." She leans across the table and taps Richard's nose, "And don't be such a grumpy-pants! He insulted you and he had to pay!"

Richard jerks his nose out of reach and murmurs, "Honestly, Camille, do you have to upstage me every single time some man gets overly familiar?" He tries to look stern but his eyes dance.

She leans back, signals her Maman for a fresh cocktail, "Hmm? Well, of course I do! What's the point of having all this self-defence training if I never get to use it?" The cocktail is plunked down in front of her and she takes a long thirsty swig of something green, closes her eyes, shivers, and squeals low, "Ooooooo-ummmmmm."

Richard also closes his eyes and shivers but it's got nothing to do with the drink and everything to do with her sound. She makes that sound a LOT. The only time he hears it in public is when she enjoys a particularly powerful drink. All the other times he hears that sound is in private when she enjoys something else just as powerful and intoxicating and he isn't at all reluctant to take full credit for it! No sir. Nope. Not at all. When she makes that sound at home, all hell breaks loose and he is the reason!

He knows she knows he knows… but it's fun so he continues to grump, "I had everything WELL in hand, I'll have you know. That fellow was just about to receive the sharp edge of my tongue when you so prematurely applied near-lethal force. I've said it before and I'll say it again."

Her lips curl up in a sultry smile, "Say what?" Her hand is over his atop the table, squeezing.

"It's a good thing you aren't armed!" he answers, leaving his hand exactly where it is, in warmest welcome captivity.

She batts sly eyes at him, "But I AM armed!" She holds up both hands, "I've got two of 'em."

That's when Dwayne and Fidel waltz up, drag in two chairs, and join the festivities.

"Chief," Dwayne chuffs, "I gotta hand it to you, Chief! You kept yer temper like a pro!"

"Yes," Fidel adds proudly, "I'm so glad I was here to help." He turns admiring eyes onto Camille, "Although, you never need help, do you, Sarge?"

Camille slides covetous eyes to the suited man across the table and murmurs, "No, I don't."

Richard clears his throat, "And what of the wingmen, Fidel? Were they suitably cowed, do you think, or will the friends get up courage to come finish what the first man started?"

Dwayne pats his boss' back, "Nah, Chief, the last we saw 'em they wuz helpin' their friend up the street an' back to the hotel. We won't see 'em again tonight an' their ship sails tomorrow mornin'. Good riddance, I say."

"Besides," Fidel murmurs, "they don't want to lose the use of an arm too." He quirks an eyebrow at the Chief's wry smile and how the Chief rotates his own shoulder in memory of that same arm-lock being used on his own self. "Does it still hurt, sir?" he says in a deadpan voice.

Richard darts a quick glance to Fidel, "Um, no, of course not, but the muscle-memory is still sharp and crystal-clear." He smiles small, "I'm sure Camille could let you have a taste of it, if you like." Camille turns a cool look onto Fidel and flexes her hands.

Fidel sits back, his hands up, laughing, "No, no, no, no, no thanks, all the same. I'm content to watch her teach rude tourists their manners."

"Yes," Richard huffs sadly, "What IS it about me that draws bullies like bees to honey, hmmm? Is it the suit? The tie? My haircut? What?"

"C'mon, Chief!" Dwayne snorts. "No one pays you the least bit of mind when you're alone, do they?" He slaps the table and points an accusatory finger, "It's THIS one! This one right here!"

Camille is making wide eyes at Dwayne, a hand on her chest, miming surprise. Me? Do you mean me?

End – part 1