Slick and exhausted in the Louisiana heat even though they'd stopped some twenty minutes ago, Courtney laps up a few salty beads of sweat from Duncan's shoulder.

"So," Duncan drawls, jostling Courtney in his lap to reach his pants on the car floor, "not going to sleep with me anytime soon, huh?" He pulls a cigarette box out of the pocket.

"Of course, it's just like you to ruin the goddamn mood," Courtney mumbles. After an hour of positioning and repositioning and keening and the dashboard bruising into her lower back, he should be grateful she's even still awake. "Give me one of those. I did all the work."

Duncan hands her a cigarette. She pulls back to light up, then moves her pearls so that they hang down her back and settles against his chest again, blowing puffs of smoke into the still air. Duncan's fingers trace circles on her hips.

"Funny, huh?" he says.

"What?"

"No clothes, and it's still hot as the devil's pit," he chuckles. "That's Louisiana for ya."

"I hate Louisiana," she says, dragging hard on her cigarette. "It's muggy and insanely hot like Texas. I wish we could go somewhere else. Somewhere more scenic."

"Like?"

She plants sleepy kisses on his neck and closes her eyes against his shoulder. "Anywhere. Everywhere. I wanna go everywhere."

Duncan moves one of his palms to the dip of her spine. "They ain't exactly selling maps to Everywhere, USA, darling. You do much travelin' before ya married yer dead fish?"

"No. Justin goes out on business trips every few weeks or so, for a few days. When we first got married, I stupidly thought I'd go with him." She tosses the remains of her cigarette out the window.

Duncan nuzzles her hair and says, "This ain't a desk job. Ya wanna go to St. Louis? Nashville? Kansas City? Name it. I'll swing it for ya."

"Hmmm, I want to go to all those places," she hums. "Every place in this country, every country in the world."

She feels the grin against her scalp. "Easy there, explorer. What do ya know about the world?"

"I know I want to go see the Eiffel Tower," Courtney says, straightening up, "because it can't really be as tall as the magazines say it is. And I want to go drive on the streets of Germany, and go running with bulls in Spain. And here!" she adds, balancing against his hips and gesturing. "I haven't seen the Statue of Liberty or been inside a department store or crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. There's so much I want to do, I couldn't possibly name everything."

Duncan looks at her and doesn't say anything. Just looks at her. She glances away.

"Okay, fine," Courtney says, plucking the limp cigarette from the corner of his mouth and smoking it herself. "Fine, you don't have to look at me like that. I have dreams. So sue me."

"It ain't that," he says fondly.

"What then?"

He puts a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her face forward until their foreheads touch.

"Just tryin to figure out how the hell ya managed to stay a housewife all this time," Duncan says, his eyes a brighter shade of blue. "Yer a firecracker."

Courtney kisses him. "Flatterer."

"We'll do all those things," he promises, taking his cigarette back and tossing it out the window. "Once you get the knack of this driving thing, we'll drive to Paris in a V8 Ford and I'll nab ya the Eiffel Tower."

She scoffs. "Now you're just making fun of me."

He grins. "Just wait, baby doll. You'll see the kinds of things I can do for ya."

Duncan reaches over and grabs his pants. Courtney takes them from him and tosses them into the backseat.

"You can start by showing me now," she murmurs.

They get back to the safehouse at around the same time Harold does, pulling a suitcase from his backseat. He turns at the sound of their car.

"Oh gosh," he says as Courtney shuts off the engine and hands the key to Duncan. "Thank goodness you're back. I didn't see the car when I got here and thought you'd changed your mind about hiring me."

"Ya kidding?" Duncan snorts. He slams the car door. "Yer still hired. You saw us coming up the road, right? Courtney can barely drive in a line, let alone in a getaway." Courtney rolls her eyes.

"About that," Harold hedges as Duncan brushes past him. He looks to Courtney. "I thought you said your name was Bonnie?"

"It's Bonnie to you," Duncan says and disappears smugly inside the front door.

"Don't mind him, Harold," Courtney says, gingerly stepping down from the car. "He's just cranky from the heat. You can call me Bonnie or Courtney, whichever you like."

Harold comes over to give her a hand. "Bonnie's what you introduced yourself as, so I'm sticking to that. Here, take my arm."

"Thank you, Harold," she says. Towards the house, she calls a little louder, "It's good to know there are some gentlemen left in this country."

A table's knocked over somewhere inside the house.

Harold gets her on her unsteady feet and doesn't let go. "Good thing the heat doesn't have the same effect on you, huh?"

"What makes you say that?"

The redhead blushes. The color crawls its way up his ears. "Well...it's just not even noon yet and close to ninety degrees and still...you're looking happier than a pig in a pigpen."

Courtney smiles and fixes a curl of his hair from under his cap. "Harold, you trust me right?"

"Sure, Miss Bonnie," he says, smiling back. "I mean, I gotta, right? We're partners now."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Al and Heather walk out to the Ford, packed suitcases and unloaded guns in hand. Al doubles back in to make sure they've cleared out every trace of their presence and passes his brother on the way out. Duncan has his suitcase in one hand and Courtney's under his other arm.

"Then trust me that we're going to be all right," Courtney says, patting Harold on the cheek. "From here on out, things look like they're going to be hitting on all eight."