0ooooo0

Winter was sitting in her hotel room, a pack of ice against her face as a growing purple bruise was causing her throbbing pain. She sighed, muttering a low string of curses. Everything was going against her. Ozpin refused to give her any help, the bartender's sewer lead was definitely feasible but after spending the evening in the sewer, had turned up nothing. After finally getting a lead last night on a weapons deal that was interrupted by the vigilante, this was all she had to show after being on the job for two days.

Now she sat in her room, licking her wounds, regretting taking this assignment. But orders were order, especially when handed, in-person, by General Ironwood. "Cheer up Winter, you're knocked down, but you're not finished." She stood, then groaned as an ache spread across her back. "Damn I need a drink."

It was thus so that she found herself again at Junior's, it being the only place with alcohol. However, with its pounding music and boisterous crowd, she was starting to wonder if it was worth it. At least the help is good-looking she thought as she caught sight of the bartender from earlier.

He winced at her injuries. "Holy of holies, that looks like it smarts." He stated sympathetically.

Irritated by the reminder, she rolled her eyes. "I assure you, it does." She said dryly. "York, was it?" She recalled.

He nodded. "Yeah. Listen, isn't that giving you a headache? Can't help with all the music and noise." His face was scrunched up in sympathy.

"I just came for a drink; the music is something I'm willing to deal with." Winter grit her teeth. It was true, the pounding beats were doing nothing for her pounding head, and she knew her statement wasn't convincing with her wincing to every beat.

York rose an eyebrow, understandably unconvinced. "Listen, I'm just here for the opening shift, if you can come back here on the hour, I'll uh… There's a bar pretty close to here. Has really good service and drinks. My treat?" He scratched the back of his neck anxiously, seeming slightly distracted as he looked off to the other side of the club for a moment.

Winter's eyes widened in surprise. "I… That sounds nice, I'll do that."

0ooooo0

York

York washed his hands as his replacement came in, a new hire named Ferron Margot, and tried again to try and reason with Delta in his head.

York, I know you better than anyone. I know exactly what you're trying to do, and you can't wave me off. Delta started.

York rolled his eyes as he went towards the back of the club to change. He opened a locker and pulled out his pants, boots, and jacket. He began to change out of his uniform as he responded. D, you do know me pretty well, but isn't there some sort of advantage in keeping her close.

Something tells me you're not planning on naming her an enemy… Delta countered. York could easily imagine the AI crossing his arms. The Freelancer chuckled once.

I mean, I can't fault her for trying to uphold the law. She isn't an enemy, maybe more… an opponent. York offered as he pulled on a pair of jeans.

I'm not gonna be able to convince you to stop… Delta sighed. I'll be analyzing chatter through your scroll.

York sighed as well. The AI was the personification of logic, and he was making good points. York just saw something in the woman, she seemed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and from what he'd heard from Wiess, that matched up. But she still cared about her sister, she wasn't some cold, unfeeling machine. She wanted to be the best, to make Ironwood proud.

"Ah shit… That's what it is…" He said softly to himself as he laced up his boots. He rose and pulled on his jacket, going for his bike. He stepped out into the parking lot, and he spotted Winter, still nursing her wounds, sitting on a bench outside. Delta told him that she hadn't been waiting her long, having gone back to her hotel. He saw why, the swelling had gone down a lot more and she had cleaned up. Rest and Aura had likely helped minimize the damage, while make-up did the rest. He waved, stepped over. "Feeling any better?" He questioned.

"Slightly." She admitted. "Still looking forward to that drink, though." She tried a relaxed smile, but it seemed tight, forced. York hummed, then jerked a thumb back towards his bike. "If you don't have a ride, you can tag along with me."

She shook her head. "I've been getting taxi rides when I'm off-duty." She admitted. "I've been fighting to get a rental through Atlas but they're pouring all the budgets into the upcoming festival."

York nodded, "It's no problem for me to drive you, I'll drive you back if you like, or get you a taxi." He waved his hand, beckoning her to follow him towards the bike. He pulled out his keys and started the bike after mounting. Once he felt Winter's hands grip his shoulders, he pulled off and out of the parking lot.

0ooooo0

McGraw's Bar, Vale

Winter

The distance to the bar was short, so a few minutes later they were seated at a high table with stools. Winter had to be honest with herself. She knew the monikers given to her. "Ice Queen" was the popular vote, but her reputation as a hard ass was only to support her career. She was focused on work largely due to the burden of the family name, something she never could quite escape, even after joining the military. Atlas news sources were always trying to get the freshest piece of juicy meat on the offspring of Jacques Schnee.

But being able to relax, have a drink with York, was definitely what she needed. The hunt for the vigilante had her worn out and underprepared for the beating she'd received from the second armored individual. His expertise in drinks also had her sipping on a whiskey cocktail he'd called a Whiskey Smash. The interesting mix of mint and lemon along with her alcohol was certainly different. The man she was accompanying was sipping on Old Fashioned, though they both had decided against drinking too heavily for the night.

Whether it was the drinks or Cole Vance himself, Winter felt herself warming up and opening up to him about her troubles. It could've been his skills as a bartender, or maybe that face that seemed so trustworthy, but now she was speaking about Wiess.

"So you haven't spoken to her for awhile?" York asked her, and she winced.

"I mean I send her texts and the like." Winter said apologetically.

York rolled his eyes. "I mean meaningful conversation, Winter. Do you know how she's doing, if she's seeing anyone, her teammates?" He tilted his head as she shook hers.

"I don't think she even knows I'm here." Winter sighed. "I meant to see her during the festival, but this whole… vigilante thing keeps taking up all my time, my thoughts, my sleep."

York looked as though he pitied her troubles, and he took another swig. "I'm sure that you're not used to the night life, either. It's something he's probably used to, but it plays hell with an unadjusted person's sleep schedule." He scratched the back of his head.

Winter gave him a look. "How did you get so used to it when you became a bartender?"

York chuckled. Glancing to the side as though he was embarrassed. "I was used to it long before I was a bartender. I had a friend who was a night owl, kept me up most nights." He sighed, taking another drink.

"Hmm, I know the feeling. There's plenty of those types within Atlas." She sighed.

"It's how people work. No one's the exact same." York noted. "Morning people, night owls, hell, there are people who just randomly fall asleep in the middle of their day."

Winter rose an eyebrow. "Isn't that just laziness?" She asked. "Most people that do that can't find a job."

"No that's not what I'm talking about." York shook his head slightly, snapping his fingers to help him recall. "Damn, it's like a medical condition... uh."

"Are you talking about narcolepsy?" She rolled her eyes.

He snapped a final time and pointed. "Bingo. That's it." He laughed, and Winter returned with a smirk. "But anyway, different people all over." He took another drink and looked at her, his smile lighting up his face and proving contagious as Winter Smiled back.

The moment was cut as Winter's eyes and ears were caught by the television. "Breaking news as a new report of the Gargoyle as a new eye witness reports their view of a raid last night conducted by Roman Torchwick with police involved and concentrated on the capture of the Gargoyle, letting several other dangerous criminals escape." Winter placed his head in her hands, propped up onto the bar, and sighed, feeling her face grow warm. "The police were coordinated by an Atlas specialist who could not be reached for comment."

York glanced down, then over to Winter as she groaned. "Damn him." She said quietly, before lifting her head and taking a large draught of her drink.

"What's your problem with him, anyway?" York rose an eyebrow. "Isn't he mostly helping people, especially 'cause he gets there faster than most police. He's not like Torchwick or some other big wig gangster, he's trying to help."

"I don't hate him, and he does help, but it's a matter of how he does it." Winter stated, sighing. She didn't think he was a bad guy, just that his jurisdiction was severely lacking.

"Wait, so you don't think he's evil, some sort of devil incarnate? The look on your face made me think you wanted to tear his guts out and wave them on a flag." York chuckled.

Winter hummed amusedly. "His friend did punch me in the face with the power of a wrecking ball…." She highlighted. She'd been in a sour mood for most of the day because of that bruise. "No, he's doing the job of a huntsman. The only thing wrong with it is that he's not a huntsman. And because of that he isn't coordinating with police, he has no legal authority."

"So, you'd be fine with Blaze if he was a huntsman?" York asked, crossing his arms before grabbing another sip of his drink.

"Not immediately. I still owe him a few good punches, especially for touching my chest." She glanced down.

York choked in surprise and began coughing. Once he'd recovered, he banged on his chest. "Excuse me? He doesn't seem like the type…"

Winter laughed a little at his fluster, "No, I'm sure he didn't mean to, it was more like he grazed them, happens all the time in a fight." She smiled, deciding to put him in the hot seat. Her eyes darkened and her voice got low. "Still, it wouldn't be a stretch, most men have a preference, right?"

York's face twitched until his rose an eyebrow "I-er… Not sure I follow the question, Winter." He caught a certain air in her voice, threatening, mysterious.

"I mean most mean tend to admire certain… aspects of her personality." Her white teeth glinted as she flashed him a wolfish smile. "Usually with a preference of one or the other."

"I think it's better for my well-being if I don't answer." York said, trying, and succeeding through sheer power of will, to not look down and have some sense of decency and self-control.

"Humor me, York." There, another flash of a smile. "I'm enjoying your company and I'm genuinely curious. Surely a man who works a bar at a dance club can appreciate a good hourglass figure."

York took a breath. "Yeah, I suppose I've seen a few. I think I like the rear view a little more, even if it's just because I know I hated to see a few women leave but loved watching them walk away…" He joked, giving a hearty chuckle.

Winter giggled before it grew into a full laugh, slapping his shoulder before she composed herself. York caught himself staring into her eyes and sighed, glancing to his drink as his fingers spun it around. "I guess men don't have it as good, necessarily. Like yeah, we've got muscles and height, but dad always said with my looks I might as well learn to cook cause they weren't going to catch anyone."

"Uh, is you father blind?" She scoffed, before she blushed.

"Well, I was also nine. I think it's just a thing dad's do…" York explained.

Winter held her temple, a new headache starting to form. "Let's not talk about father's and what they are aren't supposed to do…" She sighed. "But seriously, did you learn to cook, though?"

With another confirming nod, He also shrugged as he explained. "I learned a few things. Pancakes are a favorite, and I can grill a mean burger. Few other recipes, too."

"So, you can cook, make drinks, and you have devilish good looks, despite your father's expectations." She counted the items off on one hand before looking at it. "Yet you don't have women flocking to your door?" She finished in disbelief.

"To be fair I also haven't been in town too long, I guess." He sighed. "To be honest, I kinda just go to work and then go home and work on some project or something. Haven't really made too many friends."

Winter nodded solemnly, knowingly. "I can understand that. The officers with the police force haven't been… too friendly as I'm intruding on their investigation." She shook her head, shaking the negative thoughts from her mind. "We got off topic; what were we talking about earlier?" She snapped, the thought coming to her. "Your taste in women. What else do you like, physically?" She took another drink before noting that she needed to hold off for awhile so she wouldn't get too drunk, thought the alcohol had begun to weaken her senses.

"Fishing for some compliments?" York accused with a joking smile, responding in kind as he took a swig of his whiskey. "Well, women with more rare hair are attractive to me, auburn, blonde, white." He closed his eyes, a painful look crossing his face as he remembered his hands playing with a few locks of red hair, dyed but still entrancing, surprisingly soft. His eyes opened and he took another drink. "Right, I think I've had enough of this side of the interrogation, let's talk about your wish list in a man…"

"I… don't really have one." Winter said after a moment of thought. "I've always had a responsibility to my job, to my family, that I didn't have time to get to know someone I liked. My father would set me up with bachelor's, but they all seemed… Selfish, not interested in me, just my name. The fame that comes with being Winter Schnee."

"Sorry if I'm missing this, but what fame? I think I know you're somewhat affiliated with the SDC and the Atlas military but isn't the SDC gig as a liaison?"

Winter's eyebrows rose. "Wait you don't know what SDC stands for?"

York thought for a moment, even thought Delta was putting the pieces together, and he hated the fact that he didn't know he was drinking with an heiress. "Uh… no?"

"It's the Schnee Dust Company. My father runs it." She explained. "He married into our families fame and wealth and now he wants to make sure I do the same for the family…" She sighed disdainfully. "I've never really dated anyone as a teen, not like you're supposed to I guess. Never even had a really first kiss."

"Well that explains a lot." York blurted before smacking himself in the head.

"Excuse me?" She turned and snapped incredulously, the bartender winced on York's behalf before quickly turning, deciding refills would be best.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to… Sorry." He trailed off before he dug himself in deeper. "I just… Love is supposed to be one of the most freeing senses in the world. Being with that person lifts up your soul and being apart makes your soul ache until you can see them again. It gives you something to look forward to at the end of the day instead of going home and passing out alone in your room with a bowl of mac and cheese."

"That sounds… oddly specific." She laughed, dispelling the tension as the bartender served their drinks. "I don't know, I guess with being so focused on work-"

"It's called being a workaholic." He jokingly interrupted.

She responded with a weak glare before she continued. "With work, I never thought it was that important. I didn't figure you for the sentimental romantic type. How come you know so much about love, mister 'triple threat with no dating prospects?"

"Besides taking an Atlas Specialist for a few drinks." He countered before his smiled faded slightly. "I dated this girl, kind of a slim deal cause we worked together, and she had this overbearing father who she felt she had something to prove, I don't know…" He glanced to her. "She died though. Still a little shook up about what happened, really. Especially cause we had this big fight before and I regret it."

Winter looked at York. He'd been drinking through multiple glasses of whiskey, he was in peak physical shape with a sense of sadness she'd seen in faces before, as well as something she'd noticed in the way he carried himself. His eyes, they way he walked. She hadn't recognized it before as she'd been absorbed in everything, but now it had all clicked.

"You're a soldier, aren't you?" She remarked.

York gave her a side glance, then he nodded. "Used to be, yeah." He seemed more on guard. This was because he had to be very careful. Revealing too much would incriminate him as a potential suspect for Blaze. "Spec ops, basically."

"Really? What military were you in, what war?" Winter asked, supremely curious.

"It was a private military contracting and research company that was researching new technology to further military capabilities. We were both soldiers and guinea pigs, essentially. It was a dark lab that got buried with Mt. Glenn. I never knew who actually headed the organization, but there were about fifty agents that underwent different missions and experiments." He gave a silent thank you to Delta, who wove the tail expertly, with just enough truth where it wouldn't screw him over later.

"Is that how you damaged your eye? On a secret mission back in the day." Winter asked, head resting on her fists as she leaned forward towards him.

He shook his head in response, slightly embarrassed. "No, that was an accident in a training accident. Somehow, live ordinance ended up in play, and I got hit with a grenade."

Winter winced, imaging the pain or both the injury and removing any bits of shrapnel from him. "That's a serious matter, live rounds on a training course. If your aura was that low the session should've ended."

York cursed internally before shrugging. "The project liked testing our limits as much as possible. Aura wasn't supposed to be a crutch when it came to fighting."

"My, you certainly have courage, but that's a very true philosophy. Grimm aren't going to stop attacking because your Aura is broken." She noted, before catching the time. "Wow, it's almost two in the morning. I had better get going."

York glanced at his watch. "Right, ok I'll call you a cab." He told her, picking up his scroll and starting to dial the number. "Hey, Winter? I wanted to ask what you might be doing Wednesday night?"

Winter hummed. "Nothing, unless there's another vigilante spotting or something the police need help with."

"Oh, well, it's my night off and I'd like to have dinner with you. You're a good person to talk to and I enjoy your company, so…" He rubbed his thumb along the palm of his hand to calm his nerves.

Winter was taken aback, eyebrows raising. "Uh… sure, I'd love to go on another date with you." She stammered out in surprise. "Umm, if I get a call before or during, I'll try to let you know, so don't be surprised if I cancel, it definitely isn't because I don't want to go."

"Alright." He said, pressing the call button on his Scroll. "It's a date!"

0ooooo0

A/N: I LIVE! It's been a crazy start to the summer, but I've finally picked back up on this story. I'm sorry if the writing is bad, it feels like the drain of creative writing is clogged and I gotta get it flowing again, but I feel like it's better than the original.

Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, lemme know. Positive feedback is the best way to know that I'm going the right way, and constructive criticism is the best way to let me know how I can improve.

See you next chapter!

Phoenix