Dark clouds begin to roll in, the smell of moisture settling in the air as the setting sun begins to disappear just beyond the tree line. It is a rather rare sight to see in their warm piece of France, but it is going to rain tonight.
The low hum of motor traffic gives out as Lynn walks further and further away from the avenue and into the quiet rowhouse suburb. Tiny, round Citroën cars are parked neatly on the driveways in front of each one of the addresses and a smell of food takes over the narrow street. A yellow, sleepy light begin to appear in the porches and conversation can be heard in the distance. It is a place for families, she notes.
After a couple of minutes walking, she stops by a small house she seemed to find herself visiting more and more often. Instead of a Citroën or a Peugeot, there is a sleek black Renault with cold license plates parked in the front. No smell of food nor sounds of conversation are heard, only the noise of a television set turned up a little too loudly. The varnish began to erode on the metal gates leading into the house, something she had make a note of bringing up later.
The only similarity with its neighbours is the front porch light turned on, waiting for her to arrive. She smiles to herself at the small gesture. He must be eager for her little visit. So much so, in fact, that Eric is already at the door by the time she brings her hand up to knock.
"Hey there. Thanks for stopping by." He greeted warmly, but she could see him awkwardly shifting his weight between his legs.
"I figured that you'd want to hang out with some great company. Plus, we could always kill those." She offers him a smile, holding up the goods in her arm.
The man takes the plastic bag off her hand and inspect what is inside. Six glass bottles full of beer, a little damp from condensation. Lynn had stopped by a convenience store and stocked up on a party favour.
He smiles indulgently. "Just what I need."
Responding with a chuckle, the younger woman let herself in immediately heading over to the kitchen to inspect what she is working with. Nothing, probably, as it is often the case.
"Work still kicking your ass?" She asks, reaching into the cabinet drawers for a bottle opener.
"Always." He sighs before joining her by the counter, placing the bag on top of it.
"Same here." She counters as she opens two bottles and hand one to him. "Well, maybe not as much. There aren't many drug-dealing rackets to take down at the art gallery. Just Yeleen's frown."
The police officer gives her a smile before calmly taking a swig. "Is she still giving you trouble?"
She leans on the counter, shaking her head emphatically. "No, no. It's just, well, it's a talent to manage her expectations. Sometimes, I don't know how I do it."
Eric laughs quietly to himself, knowing very well how she does it, as she works the same magic on him. He offers her his hand, and Lynn follows him into the foyer and down the living room couch, bottle in hand, giving him a judgemental look over the empty panter.
"Wanna order pizza?" He offers casually.
Eric slipped away for a mere five-minute bathroom break and, in that time, Lynn had managed to steal his seat on couch, her legs strewn selfishly across the entire length of it. He returns to find her mumbling sleepily, the throw pillow she sewn him as a joke gift last Christmas hugged tight to her chest.
Even for a careless bachelor like him, it is amazing the mess that two drunkards can make on an environment. His living room was shamefully dirty, with empty bottles abandoned on the end table beside her and pizza boxes scattering the surfaces around the couch, probably leaking grease on the floor.
He shakes his head, nudging her lightly. "Hey. Are you dozing off on me?"
She lets out a soft moan. "Mhn? What?"
Eric tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. There it is. Her little magic.
"Let's get you to bed. You can't get home in this state." He whispers before bending down.
"I'm not tired!" She begins to whine, holding back a yawn.
He lets out a chuckle before scooping Lynn into his arms. She feels ever lighter, which is a small source of concern.
"You're so handsome, Eric…" She mumbles, looking up into his unusually-soft eyes.
"Okay, now I know that you've had too much to drink." He responds with a bashful laugh.
The young woman sighs into his chest. "Always so grumpy… Can't even take a compliment."
Eric grumbles and Lynn is not quite sure whether it is at her words or it is just because his back is beginning to hurt from carrying her up the steps.
"Grumpy old man, but that's just one of the things I like about you." She teases, drunkenly.
The police detective stays silent as he makes his way to the bedroom, the only one furnished for use in the house. His intention, like it always is when they drink too much for her to get back home, is to gentlemanly cede her the use of his bed. He often thinks about clearing one of the other rooms and turn it into a guest bedroom, but something he wishes not to name always keep him from it.
Not to break tradition as well, his so-called friend is making as difficult as possible for him to get her there. Her arms are still linked around his neck as he tries to put her down on his bed, and, to his discontent, she does not budge, even as he tries his hardest to peel her off of him.
"Stay." She pleads, reaching out to him.
He stills for a second, genuinely deliberating and, much as Eric knows the responsible thing to do is to say no, he just cannot resist. Especially when she is pulling him down onto her.
Her eyes are closed by the time her head hits the pillow, arms wrapped tight around his torso. He feels so warm against her and Lynn cannot help but to sigh at his scent. She knows that, in the morning, she is going to wake up so embarrassed with herself but, for now, she just cannot care.
In the morning, Eric will continue to pretend nothing happened too.