It's a joke, they both know that, and yet it doesn't drop. It doesn't drop because Abra doesn't let it. First he's coming in for coffee – then he's questioning whether the pregnancy hormones are making her horny – he's relentless, not letting up for a second for the entirety of the cab ride home.
Connie knows she ought to be irritated by the whole thing, and yet, she can not bring herself to be. From anyone else it would be dull and repetitive but from him, well…
It's funny.
Which is why she finds herself relenting, at least in so far as the coffee goes, and they're soon ensconced in her drawing room, a pot of coffee between them as they share a fiery debate on hospital politics.
And then, during a lull in the debate that stems from the fact that each has finally come round to the fact that the other is right but are not about to admit it, he raises the subject again.
"Are we going to have a shag or not then?"
Connie smiles, sips her coffee and then slowly shakes her head, "I think not Mr Durrant, but, for the millionth time this evening, thank you for asking." She watches with some amusement as he sighs in mock despair and then continues, "You are welcome to use one of the spare rooms if you so wish though."
He considers the offer just as she's considered his, and when he eventually responds it's with a question not an answer.
"If I do will I be woken by the sound of you vomiting copiously in the morning?"
She nods, "Quite possibly I'd have thought, unless," she giggles – a sound he's never heard until tonight and he can't help thinking that it really rather suits her, "you beat me to it. Hangovers versus morning sickness and all that…"
He grins, "True… I guess I'll just have to race you to the bathroom."
---
In any event she's the first one over the threshold, and when he joins her shortly afterwards it's to rub her back and provide her with a freshly made peppermint tea. She knows she ought to be embarrassed at being seen in such an undignified situation, and suspects that with anyone else she still would be, but there's something about Abra, and his relaxed manner that puts her instantly at ease and actually, she quite enjoys being looked after for once.
She's less grateful for his presence half an hour later when she emerges downstairs to find that he's started frying eggs and bacon in her absence but she finds it impossible to argue with his theory that if she can have peppermint tea for her morning sickness, he shouldn't be deprived of the fried food that he needs and so they reach a happy medium as they sit in the conservatory with all the windows open as he eats and she drinks and gradually they each start to feel a whole lot better.
Over their respective breakfasts the issue of getting to work raises its ugly head, aware as they both are that his car is still at Holby and hers is at Diane's. A taxi is duly called, and while they're waiting Abra pays her back for her hospitality by bringing in washing that has been left on the line from the morning before which earns him a whole load more brownie points in her eyes.
So many brownie points in fact that Connie starts to wonder how she ever managed to get him so wrong…
Especially since she's usually such a good judge of character...
---
"Cracking night last night." Abra says to Ric as he enters his office an hour later, where he finds his friend looking somewhat worse for wear, "The bit about your resignation was a bit of a downer but from there on it was just up, up, up."
"Really?" Ric looks at him questioningly, obviously searching his mind for lost memories, "I don't remember."
Abra laughs, "Hardly surprising. You were spannered. You threw up down the esteemed Mrs Beauchamp. Which reminds me," he grins from ear to ear, "you owe me a hundred quid."
At his words Ric looks slightly more queasy than he did before, "I owe you what?!"
"The bet." Abra sits down at the desk, a smug look on his face, "I won the bet." He watches with some amusement as Ric appears to be thinking desperately, trying to remember the details of said bet, his amusement growing as Ric's confusion turns to complete and utter disbelief.
"You're not saying…"
He nods smugly, "Indeed. While you were at home in some kind of alcoholic coma Mrs Beauchamp and myself were doing the wild thing. Jealous?"
Ric chuckles, "Not jealous so much as completely disbelieving. Nice try Abra but she wouldn't touch you with a bargepole. I told you that."
He's interrupted by Abra, and a simple gesture which involves him reaching into his pocket and then placing a very expensive pair of knickers on Ric's desk.
"Proof enough for you? Don't worry mate, I'll take a cheque."
---
The guilt only comes later when Connie appears on Keller, all smiles and so obviously pleased to see him, unaware of the amused sideways looks Ric is giving her from the other side of the ward.
That said though, he's glad she's appeared. It adds credence to his claims and will stop Ric having any doubts and canceling the cheque. He guides her to a quiet corner, although still in full view of the ever curious Ric and then reaches out for her hand, "How are you feeling now?"
She smiles, "I'm good. I just came down to say thank you for last night. I had a good time." She hesitates, and when she speaks again it appears she's as surprised by what she says as he is, "I was wondering, would you like to do it again some time? Tonight maybe. Dinner or something?"
He nods, "Sure. I'll pick you up at 8." He hugs her, and this time the act isn't purely for Ric's benefit. In actual fact it has very little to do with Ric and everything to do with what he wants. In spite of what he first thought, he really likes her, "I'll see you later."
He watches as she goes to walk away, still a little bemused by this turn of events and the obviously thrilled look on her face, and suddenly he feels guilty all over again.
"Connie," he calls out, stopping her in her tracks, "Leave the reservations to me eh? It's my treat tonight." He thinks about the hundred pound cheque in his pocket, nestled there alongside the knickers he stole while bringing in her washing,
"I owe you one."