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Red Kiss
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The bar is hip, fashionable, the feel of a good night in the air. A hot pre-club venue, this is a place to be seen. Woman walking up to the door doesn't normally frequent places like this, but the doorman lets her in without anything more than an admiring glance. Not very tall, but she makes every inch count. There's at least three guys in the line already craning to look after her.
She sits at the end of the bar, smooths down the rather short dress she's wearing. Knows that the colour does good things for her, and that she probably won't have to wait long before some man wants to buy her a drink. It doesn't take her any time to collect the attention of one of the barmen either. The bar staff here wear a uniform, black pants and shirt, and the owner can obviously afford to be picky, employ them for looks too. This one is a particularly prime specimen. Orders something with a rude name, and makes it sound even more suggestive when she does so. He grins as he mixes it.
"Looking for Mr Goodbar, are we? I don't think your boyfriend would approve."
"Oh, what he doesn't know won't hurt him." Takes a sip of her drink, smiles flirtily at him. He narrows his eyes slightly. You just wait, woman...
"You volunteered for this assignment." she reminds him.
"Only because Rigsby and Cho wouldn't know a Missouri Mule if it kicked them."
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...Joint operations always have an element of friction to them. The SCU don't normally deal with drug busts, but at least three OD's have been traced back to one particular nightspot, and the sad fact is, that one of the kids has a rich daddy...
The DEA contact, Agent Chalker, is the sort of woman who makes Lisbon feel like she just stepped off the boat at Ellis Island. (And short.) Even makes Van Pelt's eyes narrow a little. A cool, blonde goddess, clipped authority in a warm voice that makes the men straighten up and preen.
"...We know where the merchandise is coming in from, but we can't catch anyone passing it." Photographs on the table. "This bar has been fingered as the drop zone, we need eyes inside. Has anyone here got any bartending experience?"
Rigsby and Cho both shake their heads. Van Pelt shrugs, says tentatively,
"I did a little waitressing back in college..."
A cough makes them look round. A hand is waving over the end of the couch. Lisbon regards it without surprise. Minelli regards it with deep disfavour. Agent Chalker blinks, as the owner of the hand unfolds himself, gives her his most charming smile.
Lisbon watches the iceberg melt a little. Jane can have that effect. Freezes up again when Lisbon insists on being on the inside, too.
"Watching brief." Lisbon's voice is firm. "It's how we work."
"Doesn't like to let me out of her sight." Jane confides. "Thinks I'll only get myself into trouble."
"And am I right?" She demands.
"Well, yes." He grins widely. "No chickens on this one, I promise."
Chalker looks from one to the other, looks at Minelli. He shakes his head.
"Do not ask."
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This place is considerably more upmarket than some of the venues he's worked, but this is a world he used to know very well, clubs and bars. Lock-ins, illicit poker games. Empty-eyed girls faking it round a pole, mix of languages, and people who could be gone next morning, and no questions asked. Finishing up a shift behind the bar, and then taking to the small stage for a late show, card tricks and mind-reading. On the road, he'd wondered about heading to Vegas, once, but he'd been tired of the desert by then, wanted to see the ocean.
Driving through the night, parking up, and not the first time he's slept in the back of the Chevy. Wakes up early, and there's the Pacific Ocean before him. First time he's seen it with his own eyes. There had been something clean and peaceful about the vastness of it. Spends the day on the beach, just watching, and in the evening, finds a fire, gets talking to the guys around it, and finds a floor to sleep on, house full of surfers. They had all done this sort of job, casual cash in hand. It's what he knows, people looking for something to fill their lives, whether it be drink or drugs, faith or hope or simply sex. Fashions may have changed, but the people haven't, still doing the dance of need and desire.
The darkness is always ready to claim him back. He feels slightly adrift - his suit is part of his persona, reminds him who he is, how he should react to the world, how the world reacts to him. In the anonymous uniform of barwork, it's a different place. He's taken off his wedding band, too, and he's already been hit on several times...Exasperated snarl from the head bartender to stop chatting up the looker, and serve some other customers. Doesn't stop him sidling back at the first opportunity.
"So...flirt with me some more."
"Oh?" Fidgets with her earring, the tiny pick-up mic. Remember the listeners, Jane.
"C'mon, it's good cover." Leans on the bar, his sexiest smile. "Pretend you've just met me for the first time..."
"Hmm." Closes her eyes, opens them, slow cat-blink. "I'd see...trouble. Some blond player who looks nearly as good as he thinks he does."
He does look extremely good in black. (Has to admit that she thinks he looks good in pretty much anything.) But he's certainly different when he's not wearing his suit – no longer gives the impression of being a soft office type, almost overdressed and slightly wimpy. As she knows, there are some serious muscles under that shirt, and some very dark edges to his charm. Tonight he looks dangerous. And definitely hot.
"You can't keep sliding down here, it will look suspicious."
"No, it won't. I have to keep coming back to check that this hot little number hasn't gone off with some other guy. She seems like she might be up for a little fun. I have high hopes for the end of my shift..."
Her expression says 'smug bastard'. His expression says 'but you love me.'
He's certainly a hit with the customers, chatting and flirting. A natural showman, in his element. Watches with cross amusement as one of the other servers pinches his ass in passing, his naughty smirk back at her.
She's given a few guys the brush-off already. Does allow one to buy her a drink. He's the dark and rugged type she used to go for, after all. Bartender keeps the scowl off his face as she accepts it.
"He's half your age..."
"Good cover." She says, airily. "Do I look like the kind of woman who is going to sit here on my own all night?"
"No." His expression is salacious. "Not in that dress."
It isn't so much the dress he finds distracting, as the amount of Lisbon on display. It isn't even a particularly indecent dress, despite the shortness of the skirt and the cut of the top. It's quite simply that he knows exactly what that creamy skin feels like, smells like, tastes like. And he really, really wants this bastard they are waiting for to show up soon, so that he can take her away from here, stop other guys leering at her, and leer at her himself.
Wicked little pixie-woman gives him a dirty grin, and continues to flirt with some poor sap who can't believe his luck.
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Their dealer turns up just before midnight. His sleight of hand, while good, isn't quite good enough to escape the eye of someone who used to do that sort of thing for a living. Jane, who has known from the outset of the evening how they were passing the stuff, now has who. And it takes less than half an hour to spot the rest of the network.
The bar is dark and heaving, too noisy, so Jane pulls Lisbon through the service door, into the relative quiet. His breath, warm on her ear, as he delivers his report.
"...Man you're looking for is wearing a long-cut linen jacket, charcoal grey, sitting at the far end of the bar..."
Door opens, and voices.
"...saw that nosy new guy. He's got no call to be back here..."
"If he's a narc, we'll beat it out of him..."
They look at each other. Only one other reason that two people would be here.
Lisbon backs into the wall, the heat of Jane's mouth, his hands hard upon her body. Sweet taste of her tongue, and she digs her nails into his shoulders, presses herself against him. He groans, hitches her leg around him, and his hand slides up her thigh. She can't believe he would dare...but that's another pair of pantyhose gone to hell. Her own fingers find his belt...
"The hell..."
They look exactly like a couple caught in an illicit encounter. Nothing feigned about the dazed guilt on their faces, flush of her skin.
Jane whines at them.
"Ah, hey, I live in some crappy hotel downtown. She was gonna sober up before I got her there..." The tone is a work of art. Lisbon allows herself to giggle. There's nothing fake about his frustration, or the state he's in, either. He catches up her straying hand. "Lemme talk to the nice men, baby...c'mon, man, I'm on my break..."
"Not any more you're not." Man jerks a thumb. "Dump her in a cab, and get back to fucking work..."
Jane, stuffing his shirt back into his pants, grumbling.
"Playtime's over, kitten..."
She pouts, stumbles into him.
"Aww...and we were just getting warmed up...am I going to have to go home all by myself?"
"Seems that way, sweetheart." She's enjoying herself far too much. He's going to make her pay for this. Definitely does not need to grab her there as they stumble out into the bar. Where they pass Agent Chalker and her task force on their way in to put an end to quite a few people's fun.
"Looks like it's Unhappy Hour..." Lisbon says, hastily removing a lecherous hand. (His, not hers.)
Jane, at that moment, quite definitely agrees with that statement.
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"That was a very...convincing performance back there." Chalker murmurs to Lisbon.
"Thank you." Lisbon's tone is beyond dry.
The two women stare at each other a beat. But Lisbon can beat Jane at poker (most of the time).
Jane is demonstrating how the double-coaster pass works to one of the agents.
"How the hell do you do that?"
"What can I say? I have talented hands." Looks across with a truly wicked smile. "Can we finish this up tomorrow? Only I think my handler wants to debrief me."
She's going to kill him. She is going to take him home and kill him. Him and his talented hands.
Agent Chalker watches them leave, the small woman torn between anger and amusement, the man in black strolling along behind her. He's taken four hours to wrap up two months of work for them, and he's made it look easy.
"We could really use someone with his skills in the unit, ma'am."
The very faintest smile curves the corner of Agent Chalker's mouth, and she gives a little sigh. (She's been the one on the other end of that earpiece all evening, after all.)
"We'd be wasting our time asking..."
Round the corner, and Lisbon suddenly finds herself pinned back against the wall again.
"Cab. Home. Now." Jane growls. "or I'm dragging you into that alley."
He doesn't look safe or civilized, or in any mood to be reasonable. She can't stop her filthy grin, wonders if they will even make it to the bedroom tonight. She rather doubts it.
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Red Kiss – 1 measure of dry vermouth, ½ measure of gin, ½ measure of cherry brandy, mixed over ice, served straight up and garnished with a cherry and lemon peel