She'd left it alone for a day or so, taken her hands from the game after laying cards to the table that she hadn't necessarily wanted to play. And she'd bowed out quietly, leaving Teller to his morning with his boys. Leaving the uncertainty that Telford had left on her mattress laying there in a chill that had her sleeping patterns more uncomfortable than she'd like to admit. But she'd let it go soft anyhow, know that pushing and pulling on him again was just going to drag him weary. He had the precious possibilities of an infinite patience – they were just sometimes table flipped by a stock of passionate instability that she found infuriatingly attractive. His hold-hold-hold of control was just as intense as the movements of his hands when he let the snapping break into fury or fight or even fear.
He'd made it clear before that he had his limits. And she knew where the line between pushing on his patience and pulling on his passion was… So she'd drawn quiet. And she'd let him break that quiet.
"I just don't know what to do with you, Althea." There was enough tease in his tone over the line that she let her shoulders ease in their penned tension, regardless of how tired and breathy he sounded.
"You've never been at a loss before, Scotty." Her head dropped back into her chair, boot heel edging the corner of her desk so that she could spin it away from the door, cell tucked into her ear tightly. "Losing your creative streak?"
There was a coughed sound of laughter echoing over the phone, "You're the artist, love. Some of our best collaborations have been yours."
"Some." She couldn't help matching the smile that was riding his voice.
"Making table time with Jackie Boy wasn't a blue ribbon winner." The sloping whisper of his accent hazed quieter. "Y'don't know what you're doin', Ally."
"I know exactly what I'm doing, Filip." Her tone went drawn tight. "Don't get in my way."
His laughter warmed the line again, a heat in the sound that she found a sudden craving for, "Got a minute?"
"I can." She tipped the chair back, eyes dipped closed. "You should be more angry with me than you sound."
"I'm plenty angry." He sighed off with a heavy exhalation over the line. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy lookin' at you awhile."
Her eyes flicked open and instantly narrowed, "This is business, isn't it?"
"A bit." There was a firm quickness to his tone. "Doesn't mean I can't - "
"Cut the bullshit, Scotty." Her voice broke his tone down.
"There's my girl. I've missed her some." That same damn heat curled up low into her stomach. "Garage in twenty, yeah?"
She rolled her eyes and enjoyed hanging up on him.
Reality said that she should probably just stop looking at him when he had the bike parked anywhere within a few miles. The very stretch of his denim clad legs always became a problem that she couldn't seem to ignore. Ally pulled from the car slowly, ignoring the fact that he watched her movements intently, even as he dragged off a half finished cigarette. She cocked her head questioningly into the fact that he was alone. The very solitude a surprise in the setting.
"I'm really starting to hate this place." She told him, voice drawling toward annoyance.
The grin that dimpled his scars was searing on her, "I love this place."
"You would." She cocked back at him tightly, letting her hands lay her hips as she stepped into the side of the bike, keeping enough distance that she could lay a low glance over the way one booted foot was cocked up higher than the other. "You're sadistic."
"I'm not, generally." His head angled his eyes over her slowly and she let her shoulders tighten back reflexively as his head stayed dipped down but his eyes lifted at her boyishly. "Unless it's mutual."
"Stop it."
Another grin tipped his lips as his gloved hand lifted into tugging along her belt, wrist tightening under her catching hand as he pulled her closer into the smell of smoke and gritted road dust, "Stop what?"
Ally let her glance graze over his muddied eyes before studying how tired the lines of his face were, "Stop being infuriating."
"Y'know what's infuriating, Althea?" he lifted his jaw into the way her eyes glinted along his as she crowned an almost aching look down over him. "Finding out you've been shakin' hands with Teller b'hind my back."
"Pot meets kettle in a parking garage." She played a careful gambit and laid her lips against his, unable to keep from smiling as he lifted his head sharply and called her bet for a sweetened kiss.
"What do you need?" she wasn't surprised by the fact that her fingers were already tracing along leather.
She was surprised that he'd clipped his leg up higher to block her from the still hot bike, his hand guidingly pulling her weight into his jacked up knee.
"A great many things." His eyes were a softer brown than they had been. "You run all the prints from Carreira's place?"
Ally cocked her head sidelong, "Of course I did."
"Pull Dulane?" he squinted a cocked glance up at her.
"A few." Her shoulders lifted. "Not many. Why?"
"Pull anybody with a record?"
"No. Nobody out of the ordinary. His ex. His kid. Couple of the other guys." she exhaled slowly into the warmth of his closeness. "You don't think it was Nick?"
His face wrecked toward frustration, "Don't like the lack of evidence."
"Me either." She admitted quietly. "You told me it didn't matter. I'm letting my guys run scenarios and waiting out the clock. You told me not to worry about it."
"So don't." Chibs flicked her a smile that seemed too easily made. "Let me worry about it."
Her breathing flared toward annoyance, "This you asking or Teller?"
"Ah," he tugged her a little tighter, jaw lifted into a darkened accusation, "after the stunt you just pulled? That's a question y'don't get to ask for a long while, understood Lieutenant?"
Ally just pressed the heels of her palms into his shoulders to draw back but the catching pull of his hand on her belt jerked her back into the lift of his knee.
"Don't go yet." He winked at her before lifting his jaw higher toward hers, letting his glance ride along her lips. "I'm not done."
"Why are you riding alone?" she questioned into the way he was taking small kisses off her, letting her lay the words on his lips between touches.
"Not." He cocked his head back as his shoulders laxed and his back curved, stretching himself on the seat of the bike. "Tiggy's at the other gate. Not at all happy."
"Well, he misses me." She teased at him with a half smile.
He flinched her a warning squint that was half tinted in humor and half braced with a lay of jealousy, "Yeah? Which part? The way you slap the shit out of 'im in your sleep? Or the whiskey in your coffee?"
"I do not." She jammed her knuckles into his chest.
"Y'do at night." He argued playfully as he tugged her back in closer. "And y'smell like vanilla all the goddamn day. That's infuriating."
Ally let a searching look over his face, "It's not gonna work."
"Already has." His smirk saved the fact that he loosened his fingers and wiped them along her stomach. "Eleven?"
She stepped back slowly on a nod, "Little after."
"I know." The stillness of him was an intentional cue, and she let him watch her walk back to the car, shaking her head smiling into the way he half turned into guarding he way she drove away.