"Elizabeth". She'd been in contact with Booker for a while now and not contact like clients normally had, the consultations with maybe a discreet update, she seemed to be working with him. And it had been the only work Booker had been doing, mostly. He hadn't copied Marie in on anything about the case, nor could she find any information on the woman. She didn't expect full disclosure about everything, but given the unusual behaviour of the pair she thought he might offer her some explanation.

Maybe this was the 'break' and it would just have to go this way. Or maybe this woman was up to something and he had fallen for it. He wasn't in the best state of mind and she'd picked up the pieces before.

The door burst open and in crashed the pair, bloodied and bedraggled, Booker's arm draped over Elizabeth's shoulders. His shirt was soaked in blood and he'd clearly taken a nasty wound for Elizabeth was guiding him into a chair before he became unable to hold himself up any longer. She began fussing around for things to use on him, but Marie ignored her questions and immediately fetched the medical supplies they kept for just such occasions. "Bring me some booze," she instructed the woman. Swiftly she was by his side, removing the wad of material he was holding on himself by his shoulder and cutting aside the bloody shirt fabric.

"I'm fine, I can deal with it," he grumbled, trying to waft Marie away.

"Cool it, hot shot, it will be quicker if I sort it."

Elizabeth appeared with a half bottle of whiskey and Marie grabbed it from her before she could make to do anything, dousing the area to wash away the blood and sterilise the wound. "It's not so bad, just messy" she commented on seeing the damage.

"Easy for you to say," Booker winced, seizing the bottle with his free hand and taking a swig.

"Gimme a light," Marie held a threaded needle in front of him.

The good news was Booker was aware enough to understand what she meant and reached into a pocket for a book of matches. "Elizabeth, would you mind?" he groaned, holding the matches out for her.

Hovering nearby she took them and struck one, holding the match still for Marie to sterilise the needle in the flame. Smart, too. Marie noticed here that the rag stemming the bleeding earlier was torn from Elizabeth's skirt. Bitterly, she found herself annoyed at the selfless gesture. "Thanks," she muttered, setting to work. "Damn it, Booker, haven't you learnt how to not get hurt yet? What the heck is this gig, anyway?"

Swallowing another large gulp from the bottle he responded gruffly. "It's personal, kid. You don't need to get mixed up in it."

"Well, looks to me like I am when you come crashing in here all mashed up."

"I said I can handle it- agh!"

Marie tied off the thread and applied the gauze a little less than gently. "I look after your stupid ass, Booker, it's what I do." She placed the bandages on the area and added softly, "hold still." Gently wrapping the bandage so it held the gauze in place, she pinned it to the spot a minute later. "It looked worse when you came in," she patted his arm lightly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Elizabeth, you okay?"

"Nothing I can't fix. Shouldn't you go to a doctor?"

Marie interjected. "I've fixed up worse. Though not for a long time- I don't know what trouble you're causing." She shot Elizabeth a sidelong glance as she got up and headed to the back of the room. "You've got shirts in your office, right, Booker?"

"Yeah but- Marie, damn it, I can dress myself." He shakily chased after her into his office and closed the door behind him. "What is your problem? Gimme that." He snatched the fresh shirt from her hands and began switching it with the cut up, ruined one he was wearing, perching on the desk for support.

"My problem?" Marie resisted the urge to help him get out of the ruined shirt with his injury and only just remembered to avert her eyes as he put on the new one.

"Yeah. You're acting like Elizabeth shot me. I've been in scuffles before, it happens."

"Well clients don't normally come along for the ride. Is she even a client? I don't even know what you're doing so... of course I'm suspicious. How do I know she's trustworthy?"

"Like I said, I ain't gonna tell you the details, but I have to follow this up. Don't worry about it."

"Well like I said, I do. Because I've got your back. Just send her away for a damn minute and explain to me what's going on."

Booker looked at her quizzically for a moment. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No, don't be stupid. I'm just wary, you ass, like you should be."

Almost smiling, Booker left the office and told Elizabeth they should meet again in a day or two, then returned. "You are, aren't you?"

"No!" Marie responded instantly, but she could feel her cheeks reddening. Now he'd said it, she could see it.

"You patched me up good, Marie, but that was some award winning mother hen bit back there. She ain't gonna fly off with me, you know."

Marie scowled and Booker looked back with raised eyebrows. She couldn't deny she'd tried hard to push Elizabeth out of the picture just then, and not just because Marie was prepared for a medical situation coming through the door so would act quicker. The stand-off lasted until she realised she didn't have a good excuse. "Fine. So what if I am?" she blustered quickly.

"Don't worry, kid. She's not gettin' your detective job, all right?"

Marie sighed. "It's not that..."

"It isn't?"

You're a detective, work it out. "Oh my gosh, Booker, you two do nothing but look at each other and make these knowing comments and you're always touching hands or something. There's so much chemistry I'm surprised nothing has exploded yet." She folded her arms and raised her own eyebrows back.

"Huh... that's how it looks? Well, no, it ain't anythin' romantic. Couldn't tell you what it is, but..." Marie blushed more as his look changed subtly. "That's why you're jealous? Huh."

"Merry Christmas," she retorted sardonically.

Booker ran a hand over the side of his face. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't partially hire you for being some eye candy, kid, but haven't you seen enough of me to put you off?"

Marie was taken aback by the boorish admission, and a little excited. They'd had their moments but she was never sure if it was flirting or just friendly ribbing. She mused a moment before answering. "I care about you. I don't know, maybe it comes with caring." He didn't seem too convinced and Marie, wondering if it wasn't a terrible idea to say all this to a good friend and employer, tried to bail. "I'm sorry, I'm out of line, I shouldn't have said anything. You should get that looked at by a proper doctor." She made to leave for her desk but Booker caught her with a hand on the shoulder.

"Gimme a minute, Marie. I'm a bit light headed right now. How about we work this out?"

Marie was encouraged by the almost positive response but still awfully apprehensive. "Oh, I don't know-"

"This Friday. We'll finish early, I'll take you somewhere. Where do you wanna go?"

A date? ...Ha. "Booker, I'm not sure..."

"Come on, I don't want you acting all awkward now. One night out, we'll work it out when I haven't just lost blood and don't have a possible concussion. Only fair, right? Call it my treat in lieu of that raise I can't give you, if you like."

She'd been looking at him in his half buttoned shirt, still bloodied and smelling of the fight, that smell of oil and gunpowder and sweat and adrenaline that drove part of her wild, and he'd just given her a way to accept without confirming what she had just said. She took it. "All right. Dinner and a show. Just... make sure you tidy up a bit first, jeez." She smirked again, gesturing over his dishevelled appearance, and waltzed back to her desk.