Despite Alex's best efforts at finishing a good chunk of the paperwork she'd been digging away at, she couldn't concentrate. Goren wasn't helping. The tension between them was palpable. Deakins had his coat on when he walked over to them for the second time that day.
"All right, pack it up. Go get a drink or something. I want whatever is going on between you two resolved by tomorrow morning. It's Thursday. The pub down the street has five dollar pitchers tonight, and the bartender has been known to give pretty detectives free shots," He glanced at Eames.
"Thanks, Captain, but like I said earlier --"
"If your headache hasn't dissolved once you've gotten to the bottom of your first pitcher, detective Eames, you have my permission to go home."
"Are you saying you're ordering us to go and get drunk?" Goren cocked his head at Deakins.
"If you want to interpret it that way, go right ahead. Now," Deakins glanced at his watch. "I've got a Lifetime marathon to watch with my wife, so do me one favor," He eyed the two detectives with a shadow of a smile on his face. "Do a couple shots for me?"
"Okay, Captain." Eames sighed.
Despite their animosity, Goren held the door for Eames. He didn't rest his warm hand on the small of her back, though, and it was the small gestures that they both missed. If he did touch me, though, I'd be obligated to knee him reflected Eames.
The bar was warm, and the jukebox was blasting Jingle Bell Rock.
"'Tis the season," Muttered Eames.
"Split a pitcher? Or are you going to proposition him for a shot?"
"Shut up. Get a pitcher. I don't care what. I'll get a table."
When he returned with two frozen glasses and a pitcher full of amber liquid, Eames was sitting deep in a booth. The booths were designed to give patrons as much privacy as possible, and they were designed well. Despite the blaring music, the booths were relatively quiet. The backs extended all the way to the ceiling, and a small candle lit each table.
"This is some place. How did Deakins know about it and not us?" Goren mused.
"Do you want to talk, or do you want to drink?"
"Do you want to lose the bitchy attitude? It's one thing to get into an argument, quite another to ignore that person when they say things you don't want to hear." He poured both glasses, and passed her one, which she immediately began drinking. Her eyes flashed at him over the rim. She put it down and licked her lips.
"I have no interest in having you bully me into saying something that isn't true to make you feel better about yourself." She took another long pull from her glass. There was a pause.
"Like what?" He was looking intrigued, which pissed her off. She knew that expression, and she didn't like being on the receiving end of it.
"Insinuations that I want to be in a relationship with you that isn't platonic."
"Do you?" She was surprised by the point blank question.
"Do you?" Her eyebrow raised, and she ignored her beer.
"I asked you first, but yes, the thought has crossed my mind."
"We're partners, Bobby." She melted little dots into the frost on the side of her glass with her finger. He nodded slowly.
"Yeah. We are. You didn't answer my question."
"The best I can do is this: you're proving my point from last night. You're going about this in a way I don't like at all."
"I'm 'sucking the fun out of romance'?" He smirked slightly.
"You could say that, yeah." She looked up at him, no hint of a smile. "I don't know why you can't relate to me, instead of putting me out to dry on this subject. Maybe you're afraid I'll reject you. So if I do, you're safe. I dunno. But it's worse than being a suspect under your scrutiny. You want me to be an ally, but until I pledge myself, I'm an enemy. I can't deal with that. I don't want to be in a relationship where my partner can't respect me enough to lay his cards on the table and play an honest game. Instead, he keeps trying to peek over my shoulder and see my hand, without showing his. No fair, Bobby."
"I love your analogies." He topped off her glass and his own, and sighed. "You're right, you know."
"Figured." She traced the knots in the thick wood table between them.
"I'm not quite drunk enough for where this conversation is headed." He slid out of the booth and stood up. "Shots?"
"Tequila."
"You're on." He smiled and made his way to the bar.
"Men." Alex said under her breath.