When she came back three hours later, feeling like she was going to tear her hair out from having to watch somebody else struggle through the job that she would have been through in twenty minutes, she found Sebastian in almost exactly the same position. "Did you move at all while I was gone?"

"I'm thinking," he muttered, considering the dregs of the whiskey. "How did the mission go?"

"It went alright. I wanted to kill myself, watching how long it was taking, but it went alright," she muttered, shaking her head and sitting next to him with a long huff.

"Not everyone can be quite as quick as you," he snorted, sitting up a little to give her more room and offering her the last few sips of the bottle. He'd probably had enough.

She took it and knocked back what was left. "I know. Doesn't make it any less painful to watch. Come to any conclusions while I was gone?"

He shrugged. "That I should really get a grip on myself and stop giving such a fuck about O'Hare, but you already knew that."

She smiled a little. "I have the advantage of perspective. It's kinda cheating."

"Mmm," he grunted, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh. "You said he'd been insubordinate?"

"He talked back to me, made a threatening movement. I think if was actually capable of it he might have hit me. He thought better of it, though. Especially after I reminded him of his place," she snorted, looking just a little disgusted. "If he hadn't been hired by the boss himself I would have given him a bloody nose without thinking, the way he was talking about you."

Part of him had no desire to know, but the rest knew information was vital and won out. "And what was that way, exactly?"

"He didn't think you were as tough as the man he knew in the army. Said that you having this job so long meant that you'd grown complacent, soft. I told him that it meant you were tougher than any other son-of-a-bitch in this goddamn building," she growled, still a little defensive about it. "And he felt inclined to argue with me."

He smirked slightly, eyes still closed. "Thank you for coming to my rescue," he snorted a bit sarcastically. He's right, though, and you know it. He shook the thought off, and opened his eyes, standing and glancing longingly at the liquor cabinet for a moment before heading into the kitchen instead.

She had no such qualms. She got up and headed for the liquor cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of inexpensive vodka. "So I'm going to get smashed, if that's alright with you."

"Oh, thank fucking god," he muttered, coming back into the room a few minutes later with a piece of leftover steak in his mouth and two glasses.

She relieved him of the glasses and set them down on the table to pour them each a generous serving. "So. Remember that night off we took maybe... I don't know... Two months back, now? Maybe more?"

He didn't really have to think, they didn't take too much time off. "The one at my apartment?" he asked, taking the glass and tipping back half of it with a sigh of content.

"Yeah," she nodded, taking her drink a little more slowly. "We're doing that. The whole relaxing thing. Just fucking forget about work, all that shit, yeah? You're wound up tighter than a Jack-in-a-box. You need it."

"What, now?" he asked, glancing over at her with a raised eyebrow. "We've got some rather important things going on at the moment, Harrison. It's my job to be wound up."

"But you don't need to stress about this all night. If nothing has jumped out at you yet, it's certainly not going to in the middle of the night while you're getting drunk," she pointed out. "I'm saying just take the night. Just the night."

He glanced at her, then sighed. "Fine. Just the night," he muttered. He felt like getting shit-faced anyway.

"Good. Thank you," she smiled, tilting back a good portion of her vodka, just to try and catch up with him a little. "I'll even give you a massage, if you want. Whatever relaxes you. I honestly have no idea what does."

He smirked slightly, taking another sip. "Having someone at my back that I can't see well doesn't really do it for me, oddly enough."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I thought you might say that. That's why I'm telling you to speak up about shit that does relax you. That's right, I said telling."

He glanced at her over his glass. "Someone is feeling sure of themselves this evening," he deadpanned, tilting the last of his glass of vodka back.

She smirked, following suit and leaning over to grab the bottle of vodka, pouring them both another glass. "I never claimed to be lacking in self-confidence."

"Self-preservation, on the other hand," he snorted, nodding his thanks as she filled his glass.

"I have plenty of self-preservation. How do you think I got to be so good in bed?" she laughed, cheeks a little pink with the drink. She'd had a flask of something old and strong on the job, and it had given her a surprising amount of boost. "Anyway, I figure at this point, I'm either the Grizzly Man or I'm safe."

"I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but I'll take it," he muttered, pouring himself a tall glass and offering her the bottle.

"The Grizzly Man was this guy who tried to live with bears. Kodiak bears, I think. He kind of managed it. For a good while. So he thought he was good, you know? He was succeeding, all that. Then bam. One day, grizzly mauls him, eats him," she shrugged, taking the bottle and topping her glass up. "Really hoping I'm not him."

"I suppose time will tell," he snorted, smiling just a little. He was definitely drunk now, tempted to toss back a few more and sink into cheerful oblivion until morning.

"I'm getting drunk too fast. You have orange juice, right? I need to juice this down a little," she hummed, lurching up off the couch and heading for the kitchen. "You want me to bring the whole container?"

"Sure, yeah," he sighed, considering his glass. Then: "I don't really do much to relax...Or rather what I do do, you wouldn't enjoy."

"What do you do?" she asked as she came back in, brandishing the juice. "Vigorous exercise?"

He grinned a bit, downing about half his glass so there was room for juice. "Ah... sometimes?" He set his glass down, waiting for her to pour juice into hers before reaching for the carton. "More often I have a bit of fun with the basement live-ins, work on a few new techniques or something. And you tend not to like torture as much as I do. Either that or I go shooting."

"Who says I don't like torture? I don't like some torture. And this isn't about me relaxing, anyway, it's about you relaxing. You wanna go cut up people? We'll go cut up people. Or shoot. I don't care," she chuckled, sipping at her drink and then raising it a little. "I'm drunk."

"I am, too," he sighed, smiling a little and sipping his drink. "A bit too much so to properly torture or shoot, to be honest."

She snorted, leaning back and propping her bare feet up on the table, perilously close to the open bottle of vodka. "Okay, well, what do you want to do, then, O Man of Steel? Do you want to make a prank call? Throw spaghetti at the wall?"

He rolled his eyes, elbowing her lightly. "I don't know... What do you do to relax?" he asked with a sigh.

She shrugged a little. "I don't know. I used to go clubbing, actually. These days it's a lot more sitting around daydreaming about getting my hands on the people I hate the most," she shook her head, though still just a bit amused. "I guess we're really not that good at unwinding."

"No, I guess not," he sighed, reaching up to rub at his eyes a little, smirking. "Though, to be fair, neither of us are really the knitting and Parcheesi type."

She laughed. "No, no, we're really not. I don't think those kinds of people get our jobs, you know? They're more the accountant type."

"True," he agreed, sighing quietly. He was silent for a few minutes. "I saw you doodling the other day, can you draw?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I'm never going to be a famous artist, but I get by. Supposedly my dad was pretty good at it, so I guess I got it from him."

He nodded for a few moments, taking another sip. "Think you could teach me sometime? I'm awful at it."

"I don't see why not. I can't guarantee I can do it, but I can try," she shrugged. "I never learned any real techniques, you know? Though I did manage to teach my brother some things."

He nodded just a little bit and sighed, setting his glass down and flopping sideways on the couch, head in her direction.

"Do you want to watch a movie? Something like, stupid, I don't care. Fox and the Hound? I'm in the mood to watch small animals," she hummed, knocking back the rest of her drink and setting the glass down on the table.

He shrugged, stretching a bit and kicking his feet up on the arm of the couch. "Never seen it."

"Wh- How?" Alright, we're definitely watching it, I'm going to go get it right now," she shook her head, and hopped up off the couch. Within a minute she'd blown out the door and come right back in, brandishing the DVD. "Get ready for this trip."

He shrugged a bit. "I didn't have access to a wide variety of entertainment as a child," he muttered dryly, smirking slightly as she dashed out and reaching out to pick up his glass again, maneuvering so he could take a sip without spilling it everywhere before setting it aside and flopping back down.

"Okay, I guess I can't argue with that," she muttered, popping the DVD into the DVR and turning on the TV before sitting down by his head and pulling him into her lap. "If you cry I totally won't judge you."

He snorted. "I don't cry, Harrison. That is a dangerous insinuation to make." He thought about objecting to the fact that she'd just pulled his head into her lap like he was a puppy, but he was comfortable and decided he didn't care.

"I know," she chuckled, "I was just joking. Now shut up and watch the movie."

He rolled his eyes, but turned his attention to the screen as the movie started.

They got two-thirds through the movie before Sebastian made a noise she didn't quite understand. She looked down at him (lit only by the screen, since she'd gotten up to turn off the lights like an hour ago) and tried to make out his expression, feeling a little choked up herself. Christ, why had she picked this movie? "You, uh.. you doing okay there?"

He started slightly at her voice and reached up to scrub at his eyes a little quickly. "Fine," he muttered gruffly, resisting the urge to sniffle, his nose tickling.

She did sniffle. "You are a stronger person than me, then," she mumbled, wiping at her own eyes and trying to remember why the hell she'd decided to make him watch this. Fuck, why did she own it?

He was asking himself the same thing. "Isn't this a kids movie?" he asked a few moments later, reaching up to rub at his eyes again.

"It shouldn't be. Oh my god, Bambi is fucking tame after this shit," she breathed, shaking her head a little, dewy eyes back on the screen.

"Never seen that one either," he said with a weak laugh, shifting a bit further into her lap and trying to ignore how his throat ached. It was a fucking cartoon, for Christ's sake.

"It's a lot less traumatizing," she said faintly, carding a hand through his hair absently, as much to comfort herself as it was to comfort him. "Even Jim would find this heartbreaking."

He laughed just a bit. "I seriously doubt that. In fact, he'd probably shoot u- you, for crying," he snorted.

"He's seen me cry before, I think I'd probably get away with it," she replied weakly, almost relieved as the credits started to roll. "Good god. It's over."

"Mmm," he muttered in response to the Jim comment, letting out a sigh of relief at the darkened screen as well. "What the hell sort of idea was that?" he asked, reaching up to rub at his eyes one last time.

"I was just thinking about all the pretty animation," she sniffled, pretending she didn't see what he was doing. "I forgot how awful it was. Oh my fucking god. I can't go to bed like this, I'll just wake up in the middle of the night crying about small animals."

He rolled his eyes, sitting up and hoping the darkness was enough to hide his red eyes, pulling her into his lap as he leaned back against the arm of the couch, reaching for the remote to change the TV over to television channels, leaving it on whatever gameshow it turned onto in the background.

She curled up in his lap, silently reminding herself that none of it was real, for god's sake. "Okay, I'm never allowed to pick the movie again."

"Never," he agreed quietly, tucking her under his chin so there was less chance of her seeing his face. "That was bloody awful."

She nodded a little, and fell silent for a while, attention half on the obscure gameshow on the screen. "You have to admit you got a little sad," she mumbled finally, clearing her throat a little.

"I'll admit to no such thing," he muttered, smirking just slightly and poking her side.

She snickered. "Alright, I won't make you say it. You're lucky I'm so cool."

"I thought you said it was self-preservation?" he shot back, rolling his eyes as she laughed and nipping the tip of her ear gently.

"That too," she chuckled, suppressing a shudder at his teeth, as she always did. "I have a lot of virtues, let's face it."

"I'm not so sure I would call them 'virtues,'" he sighed, watching with interest as goosebumps appeared along her neck and smiling, one hand around her waist sliding back across her stomach slowly, fingers brushing against her skin where her shirt had risen up slightly.

"You better be calling them virtues, with your wandering hand," she muttered, though without any bite to it. She was always careful to watch her tone when he started getting... frisky.

"I don't know," he smirked, lips shifting to brush against her neck. "'Virtues' seems so... goody-two-shoes, which is not a phrase I would use to describe you..."

"Oh yeah? What phrases would you use to describe me?" she challenged, still in the mood to be just a little contrary. That meant ignoring his lips on her neck, though, which was not completely possible. She shifted a little.

"That's an interesting question," he sighed, fingers trailing under the waistband of her trousers. "Cunning... sinful... alluring..." he murmured, moving his lips up along her neck as he spoke.

She bit her lip, breath hitching just a little. "Christ, how do you do that so easily?" she muttered, trying not to feel so utterly overwhelmed already. The fact that she was drunk was not helping.

"Come up with descriptions?" he asked innocently, his fingers shifting under the waistband of her pants and wasting no time in sliding between her legs, eager to watch her struggle. "I guess I'm good with words.

"That wasn't- what I meant," she gasped, a hand curling into his shirt. She'd meant about how fast he could shift her mood into this, but when he did speak, she had to admit that he had a little flair. "I'm going to rip the stuffing out of your sofa again, y'not careful."

"I've sort of given up on the sofa," he said, smirking. "And I knew exactly what you meant, it's just amusing to watch you try to concentrate." He reached out his free hand to cover hers, smirking at how tight her fingers were on the fabric of his shirt as he brushed his own fingers across her core gently, feeling her starting to grow warm.

She thought that maybe if he didn't always catch her by surprise she could concentrate better, but his moods were as unpredictable as a toss of dice, so that wasn't happening any time in the near future. "You're a real big fan of the toying with me, huh," she muttered, biting her lip as he brushed her clit. "And I did not fuckin' mean that as a pun."

"I'm a man who tortures for a living, love," he chuckled in her ear, voice a bit rough. "If you didn't think that sentiment was going to carry over, then I imagine you're going to keep making these very obvious observations." His teeth scraped the shell of her ear gently and he curled his fingers just a bit.

"That's exactly why I call you a sadist," she teased, then let out a soft moan, rocking up into his hand despite the little voice in her head reminding her about his power plays, then, in reaction to that voice, shifted back to grind her arse into his lap.

"Does this seem like sadism at the moment?" he asked, smirking, though his breath caught slightly as she ground backwards, already well on his way to being hard, her arse not slowing the process remotely. He circled a finger against her entrance in retaliation.

She shook her head immediately. God help her if he just stopped because she sassed him. "No," she murmured, "But when you do bring it out I tend to enjoy it."

"I'll have to keep that in mind," he agreed, sliding a finger into her slowly, the other hand gripping hers. He pulled her a little more firmly against him, and sunk his teeth into the side of his neck.

She arched off him a little with a gasp, her free hand lifting up behind her to slide into his hair and get a grip, chills shooting down her spine. "Fucking hell, Sebastian," she groaned, nails scraping through his hair. "It's unfair, what you do to me."

He slowly released his toothhold. "Well, given the fact that you're forced to put up with really disappointing sex on a regular basis, it does seem fair that you enjoy yourself every once in awhile." He smirked.

She made a snort of amusement. "Alright, point taken. Would you like me to melt in silence or are you appreciating the sass?"

"Oh, no, the sass is always appreciated," he said with a smirk, his thumb brushing against her clit again in response.

Her fingers tightened on his shirt, her breath hitching just a little. "Yeah? That why you wanted to fuck me again after Italy, or was that just because I'm pretty?"

"That was mostly because you're a damn good fuck," he retorted, unable to help grinding up against her arse just a little as he slid a second finger into her. "But the sass and pretty factor helped."

She couldn't speak for a moment, the only sound that left her a small, quiet moan. "That's good," she said, when she got her voice back, "I like to think that I'm a little charming. But I'll take being a damn good fuck any day," she muttered, rolling her hips back into his lap, smirking slightly.

He took a sharp breath at that, giving up on subtlety and grinding up against her again, letting out a soft moan. "Fuck, Lorna," he sighed.

"That's the idea," she breathed, not quite making it out as a quip. "You wanna move this somewhere else or you wanna make it work?"

It took him a moment to consider the question, before he finally sighed, slowly withdrawing his fingers. "This isn't exactly an ideal location," he grumbled against her shoulder.

She shifted a little and stood, turning to haul him up by the wrist. "Alright, c'mon then. You've made me antsy."

He grinned, standing as she grabbed him and following after her as she headed for the bedroom. "Glad to help."

"Yeah, I bet you are," she snorted, smirking and letting his wrist go after she'd backed up till her knees hit the bed, and pulled her shirt off over her head.

He walked over, pushing her back onto the bed and reaching out to pin her hands. He smirked, and was just about to resume his activities when the intercom buzzed. He swore quietly, took a breath, and straightened, reaching up to fix his shirt a bit despite the fact that it was audio only.

"This had better be good."

There was a slight pause, then "Sir, we've got a contractor here demanding that he see the chief of staff. We've tried to tell him to leave-"

"What's his name?"

"Carl Harrison, sir."

He frowned at the last name. "Stand by." He turned to look at Lorna, raising an eyebrow. "Harrison?"

She just frowned for a few moments, wracking her head. Then she frowned deeper. "It better not be."

"Better not be who?" he asked, finger still on the intercom button. "Who am I dealing with here, Harrison?"

"My biological father," she said tightly, sitting up and sliding off the bed to go find her shirt. "I haven't seen the fucker since I was five, six, maybe. I only know his name because I seriously considered trying to change my name when I was 18, but realized it would be stupid to put myself in the system. I mean, I knew he was in this line of work, but I fucking thought he was dead."

He frowned, but made the call and pressed the intercom again.

"Send him up to my apartment."

"...Sir...?"

"Are you really sure it's in your best interests to even insinuate that I should repeat myself?"

The line went dead.