Ruth righted herself and made a beeline towards Malcolm, who, unfortunately, had seen the whole tripping-onto-Harry's-lap-thing.

"Hello, Malcolm," she sighed.

"Er, Ruth," Malcolm replied. "Dare I ask?"

"Oh God. It's those bloody booths. Is he still looking?"

"Ah… no, he's talking to Oliver Mace."

"How does he look?"

"Look?"

"Yeah. Does he look, I dunno, like he's laughing or something?"

"No, he just looks… actually, he looks rather angry about something," replied a bemused Malcolm.

"Oh, no. I'm going to get another drink. Malcolm?" said Ruth despondently.

"Now, just hold on a minute," soothed Malcolm as he followed Ruth towards the bar. "I know Harry quite well, you remember, and I don't think he would be angry at you. He's probably angry at having to make small talk with Mace. Harry can't stand him, you know."

"Really? Why doesn't Harry like him?"

"I suspect he's too much of a political animal for Harry."

"Oh. I just thought he was just a creep," Ruth smiled conspiratorially up at Malcolm.

"Hush. These walls have ears, you know Ruth. He is our boss, really," Malcolm chided good-naturedly, before breaking into a whisper. "Although, I've half a mind to agree with you. I've heard things…"

Malcolm was interrupted by his mobile ringing.

"Hello? Yes, I'm here with Ruth. Okay. Okay. We'll meet you there," Malcolm spoke into the phone, then turned to Ruth and explained. "That was Colin. He says he's just arrived and to meet him in the hallway."

"Oh, good. I'm glad more people from Section D are coming," Ruth said as they strode out of the main room of the pub. "I was quite alone when I got here. Awful high school flashbacks."

"Indeed. You think you're done with that sort of thing, and then..."

Malcolm and Ruth waited in the hallway and made small talk, which was separated from the main room by a thin wicker wall. On the other side to where they were standing was the booth seating where Ruth had sat with Harry and Oliver Mace.

After Ruth's little trip, Harry had found himself unwilling to move from the protection of the table, and thus had been caught still talking with Mace. Thankfully, however, Mace was yet to continue his interrogation of Harry about Ruth. Mace was a political creature, always looking to have something on everyone. Not that Harry didn't do the same. But Harry suspected Mace had noticed his reaction to Ruth falling onto his lap, and was filing it away for later use.

"Is Ruth Evershed seeing anyone?" Mace asked casually.

"I really wouldn't know," Harry replied coolly. The interrogation had begun.

"You should know. Has she been a bad girl, has she? Not handing in those S24 forms when she should?"

"Of course not," Harry bristled.

"Then you should know. Has she a current S24 on file?"

"No," Harry gritted out.

"Excellent. I might buy her another drink, then," Mace smiled.

"You're going to buy her a drink, Oliver? Christ, I thought you were just being your usual enchanting self. You're not actually interested in her, are you?" Harry said feigning indifference and attempting to turn the conversation back around to incriminate Mace.

"Well why not? She's rather pretty, don't you think?"

"Ruth?"

"Yes, why not?"

"She's just not really… glamorous, is she? Not the kind of woman you usually go for," Harry spat with distaste.

"Modest. Sweet," Mace countered.

"All still synonyms for plain."

"You must be blind," Mace raised his eyebrows pointedly, intimating that Harry knew exactly what he was talking about.

But Ruth did not pick up on this double meaning of Harry and Mace's conversation from her listening point behind the thin wicker wall. She, and Malcolm, had heard the whole thing. Malcolm stood wide-eyed, wanting to make them stop, unsure of how to. Ruth's eyes stung with unshed tears. She begged herself not to make a scene. It wasn't that she'd ever thought Harry would have been interested in her. No, of course not. But it still hurt to hear her boss, who she really rather respected, and, truthfully, quite fancied, express his disgust at the thought that anyone would ever want her.

"Um, excuse me… I have to… b-bathroom," Ruth stuttered out.

"Wait…." Malcolm called as she ran, but she did not heed him.

Colin chose that moment to arrive.

"Merry Christmas, buddy. Was that Ruth running off just then?" Colin asked cheerfully.

Malcolm just shook his head impotently.

"Come on Colin. Let's go get a drink and say hello to Harry."

Harry was still inwardly fuming from Mace's inferences. He strummed his fingers against the table furiously.

"So what kind of woman is this Tasha, to stop you looking around the office for another bit on the side?"

"She's on file. Why don't you look her up if you're wondering what motivates one to be faithful? I imagine Mrs Mace might appreciate it." Harry replied drolly.

"Now, now Harry. Speaking of those who shouldn't cast stones. You always used to have an office girl on the go in the good old days, wife be damned," Mace smirked.

"I've changed."

"Come on, then, tell me about this woman of yours then."

"Ah, Malcolm, Colin," Harry bellowed enthusiastically. "What a pleasure to see you. You remember Oliver Mace?"

Meanwhile Ruth was standing looking at herself in the mirror of a posh bathroom. Thankfully it was empty. She busied herself with reapplying her makeup and fixing her hair while inwardly she tried to calm herself. It didn't help that she was a little light-headed from the alcohol earlier still.

There was nothing to it. She'd have to go back out there and pretend she hadn't heard anything. He was her boss, after all, and it wouldn't do to be awkward around him. She only hoped Malcolm wouldn't say anything to anyone, especially Harry. But Malcolm didn't seem like a gossip, and he wasn't the sort of bloke who engaged in locker room talk about his female colleagues, anyway. Not like Harry, apparently.

Oh, Harry. Well, it was for the best. Now she knew what he really thought of her, she wouldn't waste anymore time fantasying about him, at least. She wouldn't get all flustered when he teased her in the office, knowing there was nothing about it. He obviously found the idea laughable.

And what Oliver Mace had said was flattering, really. Perhaps she was wrong about him. Harry was the one playing with her after all, not Oliver. He was obviously a powerful and intelligent man, well dressed and well spoken. Attractive enough for her; she herself was nothing special after all. She was getting older, and she had spent entirely too much time wishing for things that would never happen, men who would never be interested. Wasting her time on dreams when she could have something real- an intelligent and successful man who thought she was pretty asking her for a drink. Well, what was wrong with that? One couldn't be held by dreams.

Yes, she thought. If Oliver Mace asked her for a drink, she would say yes.