Leslie goes to lie down next to him, dressed as lightly as she usually is: lacey, yet frankly simple-looking, underwear. It's not the kind where she can easily hide a vial of poison (that'd be the kind where he wonders if she could even sleep wearing it, even if they both very much know she's never even tried sleeping in that).
Her hair is dripping down on the pillow, right next to him. He'd guess her last mission was a tiring one, considering she hasn't found the energy to wash the strong alcoholic odour away. Usually, she'd come to bed with the fresh smell of fragrance-less shampoo or, if she felt fancy, some flowery scent before they'd spend the night away, thinking of something else, dancing together until they'd pass out from exhaustion.
"I assume you had to attend a boring, fancy-ass party?" He asks her, a smirk on his lips.
For a second, she looks confused as to how he could've guessed without ever knowing where she was, before realizing it's obvious, as it clings onto her skin.
"It's the smell of champagne in my hair, isn't it?" She chuckles. "But you're right. It was a boring celebration for my target's whatever accomplishments. Honestly, he was an easy kill. Just another one of those rich sons of rich old guys with barely any morals."
"Business as usual, then, heh? What did that guy do, actually?"
"Corruption of statesmen, money laundering and tax fraud. Also I forged his will because, I mean, why not? The orphanage next door may as well get the money they didn't get from taxes."
"How nice of you, Miss Sears," he snorts. "He got free good publicity after a free euthanasia."
"Coming from you, that's quite the compliment, isn't it?"
"The only difference between your activity and mine is that you get orders for someone other than the one who ordered it."
"Pretty much."
Leslie sits up, probably so they can be talking face-to-face more easily. Her hair, which she has curled as part of her disguise, is untangling itself, and he now sees it's partially covered in golden glitter, which is spreading on the white fabric of their hotel pillow. It's going to be much harder to remove than her makeup which, as it stands, is nowhere to be seen.
Her makeup is how he knows if she's on a mission or just living a normal daylight life: if it's extravagant and glittery, she has a weapon hidden on her, wherever it is in her bag, under her skirt or powder in a ring; if it's light, either nude-like or simply putting emphasis on her features (like her favourite lipstick or this micro-glitter-like eyeshadow he loves so much on her), they're most likely going on a date around town, observing people and discussing of whatever subject they have in mind – as long as it's not about what happens after dark.
"And you?" Leslie asks back, hazel eyes shining with the dim, warm light of the bedroom.
"You know how it is. A sick old man who wanted to part away from the world before he'd lose all of will to live. A family wanting to put their loved son out of his misery because he'd been in a coma for so long and lost so much. A broke college student who couldn't bear to see her beloved pet suffer from so many health issues but didn't trust her veterinarian to do it with dignity and instead trusted me, of all people."
"If we were home, I'd hand you our self-depreciation jar, but instead, I'll just smack you on the head." Which, of course, she then does. "You know you're more trustworthy than you think. You're not just some shady back-alley doctor anymore, Tyler."
She supposes she'll never understand why her partner (both in crime and in love) never sees who he truly is. Well, it's not her place to judge, considering she very well knows her hands are tainted in the blood of many. The blood of who she'd consider to be nuisances to society, of people she grows to genuinely despise before she conducts her acts – but Tyler isn't the same. He ends the lives of those who scream for the sweet release of death. In a way, despite both working in medicine in the day time, with him being a surgeon and she a nurse, and both of them moving from place to place depending on where their powers are needed, they're the two sides of the same coin.
They both release the world from pain, albeit she supposes he sees so many more tears than she does, and that's what affects how he sees his activities. Tyler has always had a big, golden heart hidden under the layers of soot he's dusted on it to shelter his own feelings from the human tragedies he deals with. Her, on the other hand, never sees people cry those whose death she causes earlier than anticipated and, moreover, hides away the true nature of their demises.
Truth be told, she's admirative of him. She could never deal with staring at someone's loved ones after carrying out a mission, unless she happens to help them once they're in the hospital, affected by illness or injury (that's happened more than she'd like to admit).
She nuzzles against him, trying to forget the scent of her locks. Just smells like the shady work she only partially appreciates doing. The consequences on the larger scale are good enough for her to keep on, even if she'd have liked it not seeming so necessary to do in a world where sympathy rimes with money.
"You're not bothered by the champagne smell?"
"Nah, I kinda dig it, actually. It just misses something to go along with it."
His warmth lulls her a little. He's one of the very few people she's comfortable around.
"You used the citrus shampoo again didn't you?" She asks, already knowing the answer.
"Not my fault if your taste in shampoo is flawless. I love this stuff."
"I've noticed. You know you can buy your own and not just borrow my bottle, don't you?"
"I could do that, sure, but where would the fun be there?"
"You're such a tease, Tyler."
They chuckle almost at the same time. They're too cheesy not to predict, at times; but, as long nobody sees it except for them, they won't mind. They'll just keep being themselves, very unapologetically so.
Even after an off-day from the daylight world, despite having spent so many hours in the dark corridors of the world, they're still alive and themselves. Also, despite the fancy evening and, admittedly, her latest target's handsome looks, Tyler remains the most beautiful man she's ever seen. Okay, she's very much biased, but really, who can blame her?
Despite her being the sun and him being the moon of their relationship, he has the looks of a solar god: blond hair dripping on his shoulders like water on the rocks, defined musculature in display (show-off for sure, but a show-off whose shows she really doesn't mind), his gaze looking into hers like she's some living statue with perfectly defined shapes (she's no statue and she's no perfect depiction of the ideal woman, but she likes the intention nonetheless).
"One of these days, we should carry out a mission as a couple," he says after some silence. Her hair is tickling his jaw, most likely, but he likes to nuzzle her like that. Touchy-feely aren't we?
"Is that because you like the taste of risk or just because you want to see me in a tight-fitting dress?"
"Why not both?" He plays around with a lock. "Also, I think you should go dressed in a suit. You look so good in those."
"In this case, can I request you'd come wearing the tight-fitting dress?"
"What do you want me to reply?" His laugh is earnest, coming straight from his chest. "I've always wanted to impress every man and woman around by showing I can pull it off too."
"Then I'll see if I need to euthanise someone organizing a couples' party. I can't miss the chance to see you rocking that dress."
"Yeah, me neither."
His head leaves the top of hers so he can look at directly at her, his gaze more or less saying everything he's got in mind at the moment.
"Wanna go for a ride?"
Her answer isn't even verbal: she merely unclips her bra without even looking and waits for him to take it off himself. It doesn't take even fifteen seconds for him to bite her bait. Their thirst is real and they need to quench it, together, as they always do, with a cup of champagne and citrus.
They may be fiends in the night, hiding their true faces from the world, but together, they're faithful to each other and share a level of intimacy only few have ever felt.