Focal Point

by Daniel Davies

(Lizzington) A dangerous serial killer targets Elizabeth Keen as the newest Blacklister hits too close to home for Red Reddington. She must rely on the one person her instincts tell her she can trust. Liz finds herself inexplicably drawn closer to the only man capable of protecting her from this insidious new threat. (Mature Content)

145. Southern Charm

JUNE 27th

"All's quiet on the Beijing front?" Red asked, perusing the list in his hand. It seemed endless this morning. He was eager to be on their way.

Leaving Lizzy to finish up the packing for their excursion; Red, pragmatist that he was, retreated to his office to conclude business for the week.

Francis spoke over the conversation he was continuing on the phone. "We're all good. Everything's moving."

"Then my vacation literally starts," Red tossed his pen to the desktop, "...now."

Francis glanced to Dembe, the action unexpected. There was more on the 'list' after all.

"How long are you staying this time?" Francis asked, placing his duplicate list aside. "You only stayed what, four days last year?"

"There was a reason for that." Red arched a wry brow. Four days had been three days too long, in his humble opinion.

Francis frowned curiously before vividly recalling why Red left in such a hurry. "Oh, right, the date from hell... I remember now."

"It's been a long year." Red dropped his head back into his seat, sighing heavily. "I'm taking seven days, at least."

"We have a wager going, of course," Francis grinned. "You put the USPS to shame; Neither snow nor rain nor heat or gloom of night ... or getting shot in the ass is going to stop you from business as usual."

"He is a very dependable, diligent man," Dembe smiled, defending his friend's work ethics.

"Oh, he won't be in too much a hurry to leave... or do much else," Silas smirked, casually falling into the chair opposite Dembe, having appeared out of nowhere, as was his way, "... his date is a little better class this time around. Don't tell her I said that." It was warned.

"That's right, Lizzy's going, " Francis remembered, grinning. "If anybody can make the relentless workhorse take a few days... it'll be her."

"Is it really down time though," Silas cocked a brow, "if she's riding the hell out of him all night long. You think the old guy can hold up for a whole seven days?"

Red took the good nature teasing in stride, "If that's the case... I'm staying for two weeks."

He hoped Lizzy would have a good time conversing, playing and relaxing. And should she wish to ride the hell out of him 'til he broke... he was more than fine with that, too.

"But if something should interfere?" Francis questioned, getting a feel for the future. "Just out of morbid curiosity."

"Then we'll find out how well the new system works, see where the weak links are..." Red shrugged the concern aside and at Francis' doubtful look.

"We have all navigated the dark web to some extent," Red reminded, "it's time we put it to use and curb this incessant travel bullshit."

"Michael said he went back and forth between Auckland and London," Francis related the logistics involved, "three times over a three-day period because the shippers couldn't get their shit together."

"That inefficiency has got to stop." Red sighed his irritation. "If there are delays, we'll all just have to ride it out."

"Everyone is in agreement about this?" Francis wanted confirmation.

Red canted his head with an indifferent shrug, "If there are issues, we'll deal with it after the holiday. I'm taking this time, come hell or high water."

"Fine by me." Francis leaned back, resting against the couch.

"Dembe, anybody calls," Red said, pushing from his seat, "inform them, I'm dead for the next seven days, at which time, I might be resurrected... or not."

"Understood," Dembe nodded agreeably as Red departed from the room.

Dispersing shortly thereafter, the men headed for the Great room, where a relaxed atmosphere prevailed, everyone gearing up for the much needed downtime.

Raised voices broke the light-hearted ribbing they usually managed.

Dembe and Silas glanced curiously towards the, as yet, empty corridor, each lifting from their lounged positions just as Red and Liz came into view.

In the short ten minutes Red had been absent, it appeared he somehow miraculously managed a war of unknown origins.

"Damn it, Elizabeth, talk to me," Red reached, catching the woman's elbow as she marched determinedly away from his vicinity. "What did I do to upset you so much?"

"I told you," Liz crossed her arms angrily, facing the man squarely. "So don't pretend otherwise!"

"Don't give me that shit." Red growled his frustration, planting his fists on his hips. "You have to be pissed off for something other than that."

Francis drew back, startled. He'd never heard Red speak to Lizzy in such a manner... ever. Even Dembe seemed taken aback by the man's manner and tone.

"What the hell d'you do now?" Silas scowled, his own annoyance rising.

Red snapped his head towards the head guard, scowling hard, "I changed the fucking toilet paper roll."

Silas checked with his contemporaries to see if he was understanding the problem correctly. His frown deepened before the guy zeroed in on Liz. "You're bitching because he put new shit paper on the roll?"

Liz paid no attention to her guard's less than couth wording, too exasperated by Red's actions.

"The wrong way!" Liz steamed. "We have discussed this in the past!"

Silas frowned over at Red, finding the man just as flummoxed as he was.

"Are you totally deranged?" Silas scowled. "What the hell's up your ass, woman?" the man seemed entirely confused. "The man, by rights, should be awarded a gold star for effort!"

Red dropped his chin, shaking his head morosely.

"According to the patent," Francis, having Googled the issue, helpfully scrolling his tablet. He held the diagram aloft for all to see, "you're supposed to hang the flap, over the top."

Liz crossed her arms tight under her breasts, her expression set.

"I mean, I personally always just sit it on top of the holder," Francis shrugged, "so... how'd you hang it?" he wanted to know, turning his interest to a fuming Red Reddington.

Red crossed his arms as well, arching his brow, "Over... the... top."

It was Francis' turn to check with his counterparts. The man tossed his hands out at his sides.

"Then what the hell is your problem?" he directed the question to Lizzy. "He followed the patent! The patent doesn't lie!"

Lizzy, her eyes bright with unshed tears, spun on her heel, stalking towards Nora's domain, seeking another of her own kind who would understand the dilemma.

"Lizzy..." Red called after the woman, his shoulders slumping as she determinedly disappeared around the corner.

"Damn it..." he muttered his discord, rubbing a restless hand across his head.

Red sighed as three pairs of eyes shifted his way.

"Okay..." Silas drawled, "so what did you really do? She's gotta be pissed over something more than a freaking toilet paper roll."

"I haven't the foggiest fucking idea." Red was dead serious.

"It is not your anniversary, nor Elizabeth's birthday," Dembe began narrowing down the usual suspects in such a case. Pulling his phone free, he flipped through the calendar, "...it is not yet time to commemorate her father's death." he ticked another possible culprit off the list.

"Yes, Dembe," Red winced, "thank you for that reminder." He, more than anyone, would remember that date... considering he took Sam's life.

"You are welcome," Dembe replied, scouring his calendar for unknown variables.

"Is she," Francis hem-hawed, gesturing meaningfully below the belt area, "...you know?" he was sure every male present would catch his drift.

Red cut the boy a chastising look.

"PMS is man's worst enemy." Silas nodded sagely.

"I don't mean it in a derogatory way, like... hey man, is she on the rag." Francis explained his chauvinistic behavior, "I just meant, could she be in pain or... have a headache or something."

Red frowned, remembering Lizzy's last period and how miserable she had felt.

Glancing at the date on his phone, he shook his head after a moment, confirming Lizzy's period wasn't due yet.

"It ain't hell week." Silas answered the guy.

Red's darkened eyes shifted away from his phone to the head guard.

"You've done something," the guard was certain, "this is the fourth or fifth time she's ripped your ass this week."

"I'm very aware of that fact." Red snapped. Their initial argument had bothered the man as it had been just as heated as those they shared before becoming a couple.

Were they falling back into that pattern, if so... why?

Unlike previous arguments, he was stumped upon the realization... what they fought about had been trivial in nature, the issue blowing over in a relatively short amount of time.

Today, the argument was because he placed the toilet paper on the roll incorrectly. The day before, he had given her too much ice in her tea.

The outbursts were so unlike Elizabeth.

Once the storm passed, Lizzy's temper had initially tickled him. He had even enjoyed inadvertently stumbling over a pet peeve he didn't know existed.

So now, he wondered... had a transgression of which he was unaware, upset Lizzy to such an extent, it festered and now was being vented via these short, albeit, confusing outbursts?

"While I would normally save your ass from the fire," Silas began, earning a disparaging look from Red, "or at the very least, pass you some water to douse yourself... I got shit to do today."

Red leaned his fists into a nearby table, giving the guard a scathing look.

"Besides," the guard reminded, "... Liz is your chick."

Red stared down at the dark tabletop, feeling an unbidden smile creeping around the edges. Lizzy was his chick.

"You pissed her off," Silas pointed an accusing finger, "you fix it."

---

Giving Lizzy time to take a breather, Red assisted the men in loading what suitcases they could into the vehicles.

Though, after their earlier argument, he silently wondered if he should have taken the initiative.

What if the woman no longer wished to accompany him of their trip? One should never assume where a woman was concerned, he knew.

While loading the car, he ran through a vast array of things he could have done wrong but honestly came up empty.

He remembered once, after a fight with Tom... Lizzy had been in a rather foul temper. Working within close proximity that day, Red caught the brunt of Lizzy's frustration.

Once he pieced together what happened, it had relieved him to learn the truth. She was in fact not upset with him, but with Tom.

Did she feel she couldn't approach Red to discuss what worried or upset her? She often felt that with Tom, she confessed.

Taking a steadying breath, he stepped through the door to their room, preparing himself for whatever was to come. He found the woman rifling through her jewelry collection, indecision etched on her pretty face.

"Oh, Red," she turned, hearing his approach, "which do you think?" she held her necklaces aloft. "This one or this one?"

Red glanced at the objects, then the woman, curiously.

"Sweetheart, is there a problem?" he broached the matter diplomatically.

"Yeah...I don't know which one to take." Liz lifted the jewelry alternately, gauging his reaction.

"I meant," he clarified, "is there something wrong, anything you need to discuss with me? "

"Why would you think something's wrong?" the necklaces dropped to her side, her features perplexed.

"Oh, I don't know..." Red sat on a nearby bench, "maybe the fact you went from happy to livid to near tears all within the span of ten minutes."

"Oh," Liz sighed dismissively , placing both necklaces in her carry case, "I guess I'm just a little... frazzled."

Peering suspiciously at the woman, Red looked for any tells she may have been withholding the truth, finding none in the clear expressive eyes.

"All right," he inclined his head, "but Lizzy...I would like to think we have an agreement," he said, "to discuss anything bothering us, no matter how uncomfortable the subject."

Frowning curiously, Liz nodded, still not comprehending his meaning clearly.

"That we could air the issue." he clarified.

"...We do," she agreed to the arrangement. "We will... haven't we?"

Red hoped to avoid communication problems both experienced in previous relationships, and after their earlier argument, he wished to assure there were no issues needing to be discussed.

Sitting quietly for a moment, Red nodded slowly then slapped his hands on his thighs, standing. The matter put to rest for the moment.

Glancing at the contents of a case beside him, Red opened a nearby drawer, grasping a handful of new ties.

He hesitated in his movement as a decorative leather bound box came into view. Tracing it with his finger, he looked between the rich leather and Marvin's letter resting beside it, tapping a restless finger against the smooth top.

"Are we ready to go?" Lizzy asked, reaching for her carry on and spare outfit.

Taking one last look at the box, Red shut the drawer, tossing his ties in the bag. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Where's the luggage?" she gestured to the now empty spot. "Did those goons hide them!?"

"Silas and the guys rushed them to the cars..." Red said, picking up his own satchel. "Quite happily, too. I think they're looking forward to us leaving."

"Well, I'm not going to bring them any souvenirs then." she turned her pert nose up, earning a chuckle from the man beside her as they traversed the hall.

"All ready for your trip?" Nora smiled brightly at the couple as they neared the foyer, baggage in hand.

"We are, and you won't believe how much he's making me take." Liz scolded lightly. "Five bags and my carry-on."

"A man after my own heart." Nora chuckled, "Don't you go causing waves now, dear. It's not every day a man doesn't complain about taking half your closet along."

"Listen to her, Lizzy." Red winked, taking the bag from Lizzy's hand. "I told you I was a keeper." he smiled at the cook. "And you, are you ready for your time away?"

"I am so looking forward to your wonderful surprise." Nora smiled at the young woman and her employer.

It had stunned her when Mr. Reddington and Francis approached her days before, graciously offering her and her family a private flight and stay in Francis' beach house in Florida for the week.

Her shock turned to utter disbelief when both men informed her, not only did they provide a generous bonus... but also saw to it a private chef, tickets to local amusement parks and vehicles were awaiting her private use.

"You and young Francis are beyond generous, Mr–"

"We decided it was going to be, Red... remember." he playfully scolded.

"Thank you... Red," she tried the name on for size. "My grandchildren think I'm beyond awesome." Nora laughed her delight

"I all ready thought you were awesome." Liz smiled, kissing the woman's cheeks.

"Now, you remember, you are to take another week off when you get back." Red gave Nora a stern look. "I want you to take a real rest period when you come home."

"Well, I don't think I'll need it, but again," Nora complied, "I could not ask for a better employer."

"You tell these freeloaders here," Red directed his attention to Silas and crew, "you are on vacation and they are to fend for themselves."

"Silas has stocked up on a truckload of meat to char and take-away menus," Nora assured. "They're all set."

"You enjoy your time... we will sorely miss you." Red muttered, patting Nora's arm before ushering Lizzy through the door.

Red placed the carry-on bags in the SUV, "Okay then, I guess we're set. You guys gonna be okay with your Dungeons and Dragons?"

"How passé," Silas sighed his weariness. "It's Call of Duty or Grand Theft Auto now."

"I could go for some D&D," Joe nodded. "Well, I could." he shrugged when Silas gave him a deep scowl.

"You mean games for ten-year-old's." Red countered, ignoring Joe completely. He made his way around the car to Lizzy's side.

"Considering we work with you," Silas countered, "it's considered practice."

"What do you want me to bring you?" Liz had a list going.

"I thought you said you weren't getting them souvenirs?" Red reminded the woman of her earlier statement.

"Oh, Red..." Liz tsked, brushing him off, her pencil ready. "I know you hated the mug I got you last trip." she instantly returned her interest to Silas.

"I don't know why I would hate a mug that reminds me what a grouchy old bastard I am every day," Silas pulled a face at Liz's happy giggle. "Be a little more creative this time, huh?"

"Then just tell me what you want!" Liz had the problem solved.

Silas stepped, looking down at the woman, "I want you to get your sweet ass…"

Red rolled his eyes when the woman beamed happily at the backwards compliment, brushing a hand across the sweet derriere,

"… In that seat so I can start my vacation," Silas continued, pointing a stern finger.

Liz sighed, sliding in obediently, "All right, but if you wind up with another grumpy bastard mug, don't come crying to me."

Closing the door, Red stepped, blocking the guard's sight of the woman, "Have a nice time... we'll see you in a week or so."

---

As was her custom these days, Liz pulled a compact from her purse, freshening her make-up... and checking the surrounding area for tails.

As they pulled onto the main road, Liz sighed her woe, "Tom's following us."

Though Tom had taken her threatening promise, which allowed her guards free will to shoot him on sight, under advisement and no longer parked by their home... he found a parking lot on the main highway which suited his purpose.

The jerk couldn't see their house from his position, but knew of their comings and goings.

"Don't worry about it." Red smiled, settling more comfortably into the seat. "Really, it's no issue."

Closing her compact, Liz placed it in her purse, shrugging. If Red wasn't worried...

It seemed only a few minutes before Liz felt the car slow, breaking her attention from the book in her hands.

"Where are we going exactly?" she asked, gesturing to Red's jet sitting on the tarmac alongside the road they traveled. She just assumed they would be a quick jaunt away. Apparently, that assumption was incorrect. "We aren't staying in the area?"

"We're off to Texas, about an hour or so away from Dallas." Red said, waiting for the SUV to pull to a halt.

Pushing from the car, he went about to Lizzy's side, opening her door. "Mark has a little place down there. Very comfortable. You'll like it."

She glanced to her side at the sound of Tom's car pulling outside the gated area, "Can he get our flight plan?"

"He better not be able to do so," Red assured, grabbing her bag. "I pay these people very well for their silence."

Shrugging carelessly, Liz let the matter rest. Even if Tom procured their destination, it was highly unlikely he could breach Mark's residence; as she was well aware... Hunter Gaines was on the payroll and the premises. She felt better.

"It's about time you got here." Francis called down, peeking his head out of the jet door. Ben stepped in behind him, giving the couple a jaunty wave.

"Oh, hey, guys." Liz smiled, grasping her outfit. "I didn't know you decided to go with us."

Francis had not been on the premises when she and Red departed. She figured he decided to tagalong with Michael and Susan as he originally planned.

"Go ahead, we'll deal with the luggage." Red said, tossing Francis her carry on.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Francis scowled as Tom leaned against his car's frame, leisurely watching all taking place.

"Who knows," Liz shrugged, "who the hell cares."

Rolling his eyes, Ben took her carry-on, stashing it under her normal seat before accepting Liz's kiss to his cheek for his gentlemanly efforts.

Squinting, Francis' mood fell when he realized Tom had binoculars pointed at the plane.

"Looks like he's trying to get the tail number." Francis scoffed at Tom's stupidity. "Like Red doesn't change that every flight." he muttered despairingly. "The guy's a moron."

Side-stepping Ben, Liz scowled curiously as Francis reached for his belt. She hurriedly busied herself elsewhere, for she instinctively sensed mischief afoot.

Hanging her spare outfit out of the way, she glanced back over her shoulder when Ben's raucous laughter caught her attention.

"You show him, Francis," Ben cackled, uncapping a beer, "...literally!"

"What the hell are you doing!" Liz's eyes bugged, finding Francis hanging his bare ass out the doorway. She averted her eyes, her mouth pulling into a reluctant grin, having seen the answer to her enquiry.

"Subtly telling that bitch to 'kiss my ass'." Francis replied, smacking a hand against his own bum to draw attention to the area needed.

"I wasn't aware you swung that way, Francis." Ben glanced out a nearby window, snorting his glee at the disgusted look on Tom's face.

Traversing the stairs, Red glanced up from his watch... stopping dead in his tracks. He stared at the unfettered view afforded him.

"I wish I could say this is all unfamiliar territory," Red confided in Dembe, "but we both know... it isn't."

"I am not even going to ask." Dembe's deep voice filtered through the cabin as he bypassed the naked-ass man barring the portal.

Glancing at Ben laughing fitfully, Liz muffled her amusement at the sound of Red's bewildered and resigned voice.

"What the hell are you doing this time, Francis?"

Jerking his head about, Francis smiled wanly when he found Red and Dembe looking stoically past the spectacle he was creating.

"Oh," Francis lifted slightly from his bent position, "is everybody on board now?"

"If you mean, are we ready to leave," Red clarified, "then, yes."

Pushing past the young man, Red shared a long suffering look with Lizzy before the woman averted her eyes away from Francis adjusting his clothing.

Giving Tom a final one finger 'salute', Francis moved aside, allowing Dembe access to secure the flight door.

Sticking his head into greet the pilots as was his custom, Red found them desperately attempting to hide their amusement over Francis' antics.

He gently closed the cockpit door, letting the matter go.

"You ready?" Red asked, clasping Lizzy's hand as she leaned comfortably against him.

"I'm so ready..." she beamed her excitement when the jet started rolling. "You?"

"For seven days of peace and quiet, with you?" Red said over the engine's thrust, squeezing her fingers. "Yeah, I'm more than ready for that."

The man gave Francis and warning look, "So keep your damned pants zipped."

"No fun in that." Ben quipped.

"I'll deal!" Francis pulled a deck of cards from his bag, ignoring Red's mood; more pressing matters come to mind.

---

Sitting his book aside, Red stood, stretching languidly, glancing at his watch.

"You want a drink?" he asked of his companion.

Lowering her tablet, Liz, too, stood slowly, stretching, "That sounds nice."

Glancing up from their game of cards, Francis grinned at the couple.

"You two aren't going to join the mile high club, are you? Because," he gestured to the men opposite him, "we'll know what you're doing."

"...And put it on YouPorn." Ben warned.

Sighing, Red grabbed a couple glasses just as Lizzy took it upon herself to set the record straight.

"Oh, my goodness... we passed that milestone months ago." she cocked her head. "That couch is really comfortable... isn't it, Francis?"

Red grinned when the woman smiled cheekily and walked away, her job done. His attention drifted to Francis, who sat, looking after her, a bewildered look on his face.

The boy absently glanced to the couch upon which he sat.

"Ah!" Francis shrieked, bolting from his seat as if suddenly aflame. "Oh, my God! Eww!" he gasped at the horror he just realized.

"Francis, you want a drink?" Red chuckled, joining Dembe and Ben's stifled laughter.

Francis peered suspiciously back at the couch as he neared the galley, "I don't know? Did you two do anything with the glasses?"

Pouring the man a drink, Red slid Lizzy's over as she rejoined him, sparing Francis an innocent blink of her lashes.

"How much longer?" she asked, sipping the cool beverage.

"A half hour, forty-five minutes..." Red leaned back against the bar sink. "You might want to change soon."

"Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?" she glanced down, suddenly concerned.

Red glanced down at her dark jeans, cotton top and button-up, shaking his head. For D.C., it had been fine. There had been a cool wind and temperate weather.

For Texas, she'd be stifling.

"No, it's just going to be very hot." he gestured to the thicker material she wore.

Shrugging, Liz finished her drink, snatching her outfit off its hook in passing. "You know best, I guess."

"Do I look all right?" Francis smoothed a hand down his own attire.

"Long as you keep your ass tucked away," Red murmured, retaking his seat, "you're fine."

---

"I'm glad you suggested I change." Liz fanned herself, blotting her brow with a handkerchief. "This is going to take some getting used to."

The damp humidity clung to them as they traversed the stairs of the jet.

Red smiled as the woman turned into the gusty wind, the only thing that made the oppressive heat bearable. The light fabric of her outfit billowed, allowing the wind to cool her somewhat.

"It'll get better within the hour. It's always warmer in the afternoon, then there's a break." Adjusting his hat, Red opened the backdoor to the waiting SUV.

"There's a storm a comin'," Francis said, tossing his bag into the large vehicle.

"I'll grab the chickens..." Ben picked up the same accent.

"It'll be muggy as shit, then cool off... maybe." Francis ignored the exchange completely, going about his way.

Liz lifted her book, fanning Red with the pages, "Aren't you dying?"

"You're forgetting I travel all over the world." Red assisted the woman into the backseat, "It's not until I get down further south that the heat affects me."

"I guess I can understand that." Turning the air vent her way, Liz leaned into it, thankful for the burst of cold air.

"We'll be there soon, then you can freshen up." Red bolstered. "You'll have plenty of time to enjoy a cool bath."

"God, that sounds heavenly." she groaned her desire, smacking Francis' hand away from the vent. "Use your own!" she grumbled. "You already stole Dembe's."

"Dembe's a gentleman, he shares." Francis jibbed.

Grinning, Red adjusted his jacket and vest as Dembe readjusted the vent to blow his way as Lizzy jabbed a curt finger to Francis' vent.

"Well, I don't!" she frowned hard at her friend. "That's yours! This one is mine!"

Francis pulled a face at her, but gingerly slid his vent into proper position.

The Texas countryside stretched out for what seemed endless miles of lovely panorama.

Endless blue skies gave way to natural wildflower. Blowing wheat and large bushels of hay dotted the landscape which made for quite a picturesque view.

Red felt the stress he'd been carrying slowly bleed from his frame as he relaxed in the simplistic setting.

After what seemed a relatively short drive, they came to a long stretch of lined trees, broken by a huge gated area.

Two enormous brick walls and a large looming decorative gate greeted them as Dembe slowed and turned into the paved drive.

"That was fast." Liz remarked, pleasantly delighted by the brief trip.

"We landed at Mark's private airstrip," Red explained. "The nearest airport is over thirty minutes away."

"Donovan Manor?" Liz asked of the placard on the stone wall.

"I always thought he was being a bit pretentious with the name." Red allowed a wry smile.

"I wanted to call it Twelve Oaks." Francis piped in, "but Mark said someone already took the name."

"Twelve Oaks, as in the plantation... from Gone with the Wind?" Liz enquired politely.

"Like everyone knows that bit of obscure trivia." Francis scoffed.

"You're right... of course," Liz placated, patting Francis' hand. She turned to Red, her eyes rolling their disbelief.

As Dembe supplied their information to the guards on post, Liz looked about her surroundings.

She could barely hear Dembe's soft-spoken replies in the backseat over the blowing wind.

"Wow... is this normal for Texas?"

"You think this is strong?" Francis scoffed. "I was in a tornado once in Oklahoma, 'bout blew my ass there yonder."

Red's expression fell askew as he peered about Lizzy's frame, giving Francis an enigmatic glance.

"Yeah, well, that wind was no match for him, I tell you... he took it like Jack Lord on Hawaii Five-O," Ben related, "... hair didn't move an inch."

"Man, they weren't lying about that Aqua Net." Francis sat up, nodding. "That shit was like bullet proof."

Ben grinned over his shoulder, "The debris just bounced right off him."

Red gave Francis a side-glance, "Oh, I don't know... I think maybe a few things might have hit their mark."

Lifting her hand, Liz muffled her quite snort of amusement.

"The wind has picked up, yes," Red moved the subject along. "It's been known to gust up to forty miles per hour on a normal day. It's very nice at night. I enjoy hearing it"

The guard gestured for them to proceed, pointing to a man behind the Venetian style wrought-iron gate.

Passing through, Liz noted two armed men off to each side. "Uhh.."

"They're all over the place." Red patted her hand consolingly. "Don't worry about it. It's for our protection."

"If you say so." she craned her head, peering into passing bushes for other hidden guards. That's where Silas would station them, at least.

Driving down the long lane, each side bracketed by trees, Liz sat straight in the seat, getting her first glimpse of the Manor. "Oh... wow."

"It is nice." Red's smiled warmly, watching Lizzy's surprised reaction. "Isn't it?"

"Little place. Red! That thing is what… eight, ten stories tall?" It was stunning to see this size building in the middle of Nowhere, Texas.

Breaking out from under the canopy of trees, the vehicle passed an elegant water fountain and lush gardens spanning out in all directions.

Rounding the fountain unveiled the bustle of employees unloading limos and expensive private cars.

"It's not a house, it's a hotel." she scolded.

"You didn't tell her?" Ben turned to look at them from the front.

"I didn't really think about it, to be honest." Red admitted. He'd been here before, he knew the place well.

The architects had done a wonderful job utilizing the vast space by showcasing the renowned grandiose Texas style.

The building, while massive, held sophisticated, old world charm.

Enormous pillars lined the stately façade, welcoming and enticing guests to venture further into the grand ambience.

Smatterings of plants and small pockets of clustered group seating made up of rocking chairs and porch swings gave the appearance of wrap around porches from a more simplistic era.

Mark's updated version of the theme was beautiful and charming, Liz thought.

Large white ash couches, piled with thick cushion and pillow, hung securely from sturdy ropes. If one were so inclined, a person could comfortably doze upon the large surface in the lazy summer heat.

Visitors gently rocked themselves as they visited with others, enjoying their cool drinks and shared laughter in the welcomed shade.

The muscles in Liz's frame unwound at the very sight of the heavenly picture.

Looking up, Liz caught a glimpse of huge seamless bay windows she assumed allowed unfettered views of the vibrant and well-kept gardens.

Dembe swung around the roundabout, giving Liz a passing glance of French doors leading to private balconies. Lush drapes of ivy and flora ensured an amazing panoramic view and solitude.

She felt instantly welcomed by the Manor's warmth and hominess.

"It's a special retreat." Red rubbed his thumb against her slick thumbnail. "They house a lot of important people, Mark tells me."

"Why?" Liz asked, still taking in the scenery provided. "I mean, it's lovely, but it's not really near anything."

"Actually, New Orleans and Houston are only a stone's throw away." Red alerted her to their location. "It's very well hidden. The grounds stretch on for miles, so there's a very slim chance of media taking your picture out here." he mentioned a perk important to himself. "Unless you have reservations, you can't get in."

"It's a perfect place to hide for a while." Liz muttered, understanding the underlying gist of Red's information.

Pulling up under the covered drive, Red ushered Liz out of the way of the bellboys, escorting her towards the doors.

Wrapping an arm about Red's, Liz gaped at the luxurious décor as they traversed the lobby.

If possible, the hotel looked even larger on the inside.

A grand staircase lined in a rich maroon runner, split into two halves and curved around two enormous pillars.

The trim of dark wood and intricate ornamental iron of the banister and balustrade was exquisite.

Flickering fire light candelabra at each end, guided and beckoned guests closer to its majesty.

The warm, rich glow of delicate chandeliers lining the lobby, subtly directed visitors to the spacious front desk.

Grinning, Red pulled Lizzy alongside him, utterly enchanted by her reaction to her surroundings.

Inhaling, Liz hummed her delight.

Even before entering the hotel, her senses were awash with the mellow and delicious aroma of Lilac and Honeysuckle.

The soft scent drifted inward, for the lobby was overflowing with the lovely floral arrangements and strategically placed oil warmers.

The wide open space smelled absolutely divine.

Craning her head, she glanced at the row of specialty shops. Focusing on the sound of men laughing, she saw a cluster of them in what appeared to be a smoke shop, testing out cigars and drinks. Ladies in a neighboring storefront sampled testers of exotic perfumes and luxurious lotions.

Glancing upwards, people standing on balconies overlooking the first floor, smiled and chatted as they waved at passing acquaintances.

She almost felt like she was on an old time ship. She wholeheartedly expected to see women with parasols and 'Merry Widow' hats festooned with ostrich feather come around a corner on the arms of high-class gentlemen.

She was excited to see what other amazing sights awaited her on the horizon.

As they neared the check in area, their host greeted them.

"Hey, you guys made it!" Mark grasped Red's hand, pulling him into an embrace before turning his attention to the other three men. Liz smiled as each slapped one another on the back.

Mark smiled at Liz, hugging her warmly. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you, and may I return the compliment," she brightened at the man's sincere words, gesturing to her surroundings, "your accommodations are simply amazing, if I say so myself."

Mark inclined his head, graciously accepting Liz's statement in turn. "Red, how's the leg?" he pointed. "You want the wheelchair or..."

Red waved aside the offer, "I'm much better, thank you, Mark."

"I might just have to use it," Liz looked about for one for future reference, "from the size of this place, I may need one just to get around." she quipped.

"We have golf carts for that." Mark teased.

"I can believe it." Liz openly continued to gawk at the comings and goings.

"You're in Texas, little lady. We do everything big here." Mark boasted proudly. "Why just this afternoon alone, we have so much planned, it'll make you blush telling your friends about it."

Francis nudged a chuckling Mark, moving things along, "You want news? You want to blush!" he shuddered. "You should hear what they did to the couch on the plane."

Mark's brow arched with interest before noticing Red's expression wipe of nothing more than a rather unconvincing appearance of innocence.

"Red, why are you purposely trying to creep him out?" Mark mockingly covered Francis' ears with his large hands. "You know we haven't had the talk with him yet."

"It wasn't me..." Red held up innocent hands, hooking a thumb towards Elizabeth.

It was Elizabeth's turn to take on an innocent air.

Shoving Mark roughly away, Francis primly straightened his hair. "Excuse me! I know all I need to know about the birds and the bees."

Liz scoffed her derision and disbelief, "Yeah, that's not what I heard." she retorted, turning her back on the man if for no other reason but to hide her smile.

"Hey?" Francis called after her retreating form, "What have you heard?"

Sighing, Red patted the man's shoulder consolingly, waylaying Francis' intended path.

"Francis, you're losing it." Red shook his head woefully.

"You think?" Francis frowned, an anxious look on his face.

"You never had it," Ben put in his two-cents.

"For the sake of my sanity," Red put an end to the bickering before it could start, "Francis, you've always had it. You will always have it... there is no chance in hell of you ever losing it, now you two... separate." he motioned.

Francis relaxed, straightening his lapel and tie with a cocky air.

"Keep away from me at all times... if I see your faces for the duration of my stay... I may very well kill you both." Red adopted an almost regretful tone.

"But we're still on for lunch and stuff, right?" Francis was confused.

"Well, meals and stuff yeah, but not the golf portion," Ben made mention. "Red doesn't like golf."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Red in turn looked pleadingly to a waiting Mark Donovan.

Hiding his laughter under a well-timed cough, Mark gestured to the waiting attendants. "I'm sure you'd like to freshen up."

Gripping Francis' shoulder, Red steered the pouting young man from Liz's direction towards Mark.

"You go... that way."

"But I have to check in." Francis wailed.

"That's were you're going," Red stressed, pointed the direction Francis was now facing.

"Whatever Liz has," Francis sighed, "you caught it. Geez!" he trudged after Mark.

"You too!" Red shooed Ben to follow his counterpart.

Shrugging, Ben went off, trailing after Francis and Mark.

Red pointed Lizzy to a charming tea room, bustling with guests and refreshments. "You want to sit, I'll get our room?"

Grabbing her a glass of wine, Red stood waiting as Lizzy happily chose some delicious finger foods before seating herself at a nearby table.

"I feel so grand!" she pulled a playful face, lifting her chin regally. "I need a parasol."

"I'll rustle one of for you, pretty lady." Red fingered the brim of his hat, tipping it.

Liz nibbled on her snack, watching Red confer with the clerk. Seconds later, Red approached, crouching before her.

"If you're going to propose, you're doing it all wrong, fella." she made a point of looking at the man's empty hands.

"Do you have a preference for either the North or South side?" Red held his amusement.

"Well," Liz drawled slowly, "I would have preferred the proposal or at least a proposition..." she pursed her lips into a smile, "but no, not really, do I?"

Realizing his faux pas, Red quickly supplied a quick layout of the hotel...

"The North side has a view of the pavilion, pool and other activities." he said. "The South side has a view of the gardens and fountains. Gets the most wind at night."

While she was sure the North side would have an entertaining view... they were here to rest and recharge. Which is what she planned to do while in the privacy of their room.

Besides, Red liked the wind, she remembered. "I want the South side."

Intent on retrieving their key cards, Red headed towards the front desk. While waiting as Francis blathered on about what rooms had what amenities, a light touch moved in a caressing manner up his arm.

Glancing towards the unexpected contact, Red frowned as a feminine shape came into view.

"Hello, Red," the woman's sultry voice purred, "I was wondering if you were going to show this year."

"Erica." he replied coolly in greeting, stepping back out of her space, making certain any physical contact was severed.

Hearing Red's warm tone lower to this side of chilly, Liz peered around a fern in her way, her brows lifting.

Glancing between Red and the new arrival on scene... Liz couldn't help but wonder what the story was there?

Red had clearly shut down, throwing up a wall so high and impenetrable, there wasn't a tool invented that could make a dent in the solid mass.

Liz had never seen Red go so cold with a woman before.

It didn't seem to matter the woman; he flirted, teased, and oozed charm whenever in their presence.

It was in his nature. Liz had grown to accept the fact.

The woman, on the other hand, was trying to pretend she didn't feel the aloofness and guarded response.

What was it about this female? Red was closed off and tense. Verging on a simmering boil.

They stood there, silent. Red not giving an inch and the woman, still smiling seductively, hoped her feminine wiles would break the chill of the moment.

Quickly pushing from her seat, Liz stepped out from behind the wall, smiling as she approached.

"Honey, did you get the key..." she hesitated, wincing gently, offering the proper inflection, "oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Red's stone-like expression broke, his gaze shifting towards Lizzy.

"You didn't," Red reached, pulling her closer. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, sweetheart. I'll get them now and take you to our room."

Red stepped towards the front register, taking the key-cards the clerk held aloft.

Tugging her hand, Red scowled when Lizzy subtly pulled pack, stopping his intent to flee.

"Ray, I swear..." Liz scolded, wrinkling her nose adorably. "He's just awful sometimes." she offered a hand, smiling.

She was pleased to notice the woman's flirtatious persona fading as she sized up the developing situation.

"Hello, I don't think we've met before. I'm Elizabeth," she smiled brightly, "Raymond's fiancé."

Liz held her expression as the woman's eyes darted towards Red, the come-hither look vanishing completely.

"Erica." the woman grasped Liz's hand in hers, returning the greeting. "You're engaged, how lovely. Is this... a recent development?"

Smiling adoringly at Red, Liz cuddled close to him, patting his chest. "Yes, we've been engaged five months now."

Erica's eyes drifted to the large ring on display, and the masculine arm wrapping about Elizabeth's waist.

"Baby, we really should get up to our room." Red urged, plainly ready to leave. "You should rest before this evening's activities."

Erica's eyes narrowed at the endearment, as if surprised by the easy way in which it was delivered.

"Oh, I'm all right." Liz leaned, kissing his chin. She smiled warmly at Erica whose returning smile was impossible to read. "He's always so overprotective."

"I'm sure he is." Erica smiled, but Liz could catch no hint of insincerity.

Red watched the woman in his peripheral, suddenly understanding Elizabeth's ploy...the anger he felt fading.

"You didn't get much sleep last night," he rumbled intimately. His eyes softened when Lizzy flushed a pretty shade of pink, her cheeks plumping, "and after the flight..."

"Okay, you win." Liz happily conceded. "We're probably keeping Erica, anyway." she reached, laying an apologetic hand on Erica's.

"Yes, I should get going." Erica seemed relieved by the provided escape. "It was nice to see you again, Red. And nice meeting you, Elizabeth."

"It was so lovely to meet you. I hope we see you later." Liz offered a genuine smile as Erica turned without another word, walking away.

Liz watched her go, snorting under her breath. "Too much?"

Capturing Lizzy's small face in his hands, Red leaned, kissing her tender lips. He was so pleased Lizzy understood the situation, to an extent. She didn't know the backstory, but knew enough to realize... Erica had purposely set out to push buttons.

"No," Red allowed his pride, "that was just right."

---

Red's eyes trailed Lizzy as she flit about the room, grinning at him from time to time with barely contained excitement.

Nodding his thanks to the bellboys, Red tipped them generously, allowing the door to close upon their retreat.

"...Well?" Red awaited the verdict.

"Oh, Red..." Liz scanned the luxurious suite, "it's gorgeous! Are they all like this?"

"The rooms?" he assumed, shrugging. "More or less. Though, this one has been removed of anything which could puncture an artery." he grinned, tossing his hat to a side table.

"That's all right... I have plenty of stuff in my bag." Liz sat her purse aside, intent on investigating the private dining area. While the table allowed for guests, the setting itself spoke of intimacy and solitude.

"The private balcony," he stepped past her, "is accessible from both here and the master." he opened the door, allowing the sweet summer wind inside. "From here, you will be able to see the Guest house."

"Guest house?"

"It's a Southern thing. They want guests to feel welcome, so they apparently build an entirely different house for their use." Red shrugged, losing his jacket in the process. "In this case, it's Mark's private quarters. It's where I'll be if needed or not with you."

"Need I remind you," Liz muttered as she scanned the array of expensive knickknacks, "we have a guest house at home. Are we just as Southern as the next guy?"

Red hesitated, dropping his suit coat over the back of a nearby chair. Blinking, his eyes blurred... her words echoing in his head.

It seemed Elizabeth was thinking along similar lines he had been for weeks now.

How many times had he muttered the phrases, 'on his way home' or 'glad to be home'... meaning, where ever Elizabeth was, that's where he wanted to be.

It had not dawned on him until just this moment; at some point, Elizabeth and Home, while still separate entities, had and did evoke the same feeling of contentment.

He knew the moment he realized how comfortable he was in her home. The exact time it occurred to him... he had a preferred side of the bed, that he utilized the office more than she did.

Lizzy's home had become his as well.

But how the hell had he not noticed the moment Lizzy's home became their home in her mind as well?

Did it matter in the grand scheme of things? All that mattered was he and Lizzy had a house... together. They were living the same life.

They also had a damn guest house.

Chuckling to himself, Red sauntered in behind the small body, snuggling into it, "Technically," he murmured quietly in her ear, "we have two guest houses."

They had the original homestead on the property still, and as it was not in use... it could be deemed an area for guests, he supposed.

"Oh, right..." Liz turned a bit, seeking him out, "I need to decorate that, huh?"

"You should..." Red agreed.

"Or should we piece it out," Liz frowned, "sell it?"

Red vetoed the idea before it had even been verbalized. "Too close to our house." he shook his head.

"We could put up a privacy fence, I guess," she pulled a face, the idea not appealing to her, "...or not."

"Besides," he reminded, "you love the access to the river."

She did love that area for its spectacular view and used it often. She and Silas ran the perimeter every day as part of their workout. She also loved the pond provided by a small offshoot the river supplied, for it was incredibly tranquil.

"It's not a bad idea, you know." Liz shrugged, returning to the previous subject. "Even if you have family come to visit, when you're tired of them, you can lock them out of the main house, guilt free."

"I rarely experience guilt, so I wouldn't know." Red grinned, earning a small scoff from Lizzy. "I'd have no problem locking the door, regardless."

"So who is this Erica when she's at home?" Liz abruptly changed subjects, a more interesting topic coming to mind.

Leaning against a nearby armrest, Red folded his arms across his chest, "Must we?" he sighed.

"We must." Liz sighed right back.

"We were involved at one point and then she stabbed me in the back." the man offered an abridged version of the story.

"Literally or figuratively?" Liz thought to ask for clarification.

"Figuratively. Though, at the time, it felt the opposite." Red granted.

"What happened?" Liz stepped closer, searching his face for signs of hidden emotion.

"I was assisting a small time supplier in Germany," Red told the long ago tale, "trying to make a name for himself. Erica went behind my back and used him for her own monetary gain. Ended up getting him and his team killed." he sighed heavily at the memory.

Liz closed her eyes, having a good idea that was coming. "Well... I did ask." her tone held sadness.

"I don't like Erica's methods," Red held his temper, barely, "and sure as hell don't appreciate she used my people so carelessly."

"Which explains why you're protective of your assets now... protective of me," Liz understood.

"Yes." Red confirmed her hypothesis. "I was... I am," he corrected, "protective of you because... I love you."

Liz's cheeks flushed a charming pink for the man's declaration.

"...I also enjoy bedding you." Red added straight-faced.

Clasping his hand, Liz held his attention, ".. I enjoy that too."

Sniggering quietly, Red lifted her hand, kissing the tender flesh of her palm. "I'll grab the bags," he murmured, "you start your bath."

Walking through the darkened French doors leading to the master, Liz took in the beautiful, luxurious surroundings... instantly at ease.

The longing to sink into the overstuffed chairs was instantaneous, as was the deep desire to cuddle into the luxurious blankets and pillows piled on the bed.

Running her fingers along the softness of the bedding, the textures of fleece and fur were calming, yet sensual.

She sensed she and Red would spend a great deal of time in this room.

Exploring further, the plush carpeting gave way to marble as she stepped into the bathroom, a tiny squeal of happiness tickling her throat.

Gaping at the surroundings, Liz ran exploring fingers across the shiny, grayish marble as she moved further into the expanse room.

To her right, a picture window drew attention to an enormous jetted soaker tub.

A small remote beside the brushed silver faucets lowered not only the lights but window shades to ensure privacy and mute the powerful summer sun.

The double sink vanity sat atop shelving which held countless linens and other amenities offered at the hotel.

She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror which adorned an entire wall of its own.

A walk-in shower with various water jets and a heating element, and a private toilet just to her right, completed her idea of perfection.

Sliding a decorative basket free from its shelf, Liz giddily pulled at the ribbon, rummaging through the expensive lotions and bath products available for her use.

Rushing for the tub, she turned the tap on full. Pouring a generous amount of creamy gel into the swirling waters, the rich burst of fragrant coconut and Shea instantly teased her senses.

Stepping back into the grand master, she glanced around at the sound of Red bustling about... but couldn't see him, anywhere.

"Where are you?" she spun in a small circle, perplexed.

"In the closet." Came just from her left. Stepping through the opened doorway, she gaped at the size of the space.

"I think this thing is bigger than my first apartment." she glanced upwards at the numerous shelves offering every shape of nook and cranny one could need.

Like their closet at home, they each had a side of their own, allowing them space to maneuver and store their things.

"There's a safe," Red reached past her small stature, pushing at a hidden panel in the wall.

Opening the door, Liz peered inside, impressed by its size. "What everyone needs, a safe, slash rental property all in one."

"Do I get the code as well?" Liz asked. "I have jewelry... and a really neat gun."

Red wrapped his arms low about her waist, "What about... 504?"

Nodding her approval, Liz tittered softly under her breath. "Should be easy enough to remember... since it's my user ID at work."

"Did you just tell me classified information?" Red lifted a curious brow.

"Well," she hedged, "... not all of it, of course."

"You'd think I was a criminal or something," he murmured, entering the new code to set the safe up for their use.

Smiling, Liz took the bag holding her dresses from his hand, hanging them on a nearby hook. Red assisted in the bag's removal then, set it aside.

"There, all finished." he leaned against the doorjamb, watching Lizzy adjust her gowns quickly. "How's your water faring?"

"Oh, right!" Liz rushed from the closet, hastily shutting down the taps. She hummed joyously at the idea of fully immersing herself in the mountain of frothy bubbles.

"It is quite impressive, isn't it?" Red remarked, sitting his toiletries on the sink. "You could fit six people in that thing."

"I'm going to swim laps in the deep end." she beamed happily, kicking her shoes free.

"Francis once attempted a cannonball..." he mumbled, placing his shaving paraphernalia on the ornate counter.

Red grinned at the reflection of the woman as she disrobed with due haste and plunged into the depths of her bliss.

"You're quite beautiful," he grabbed a towel, walking towards the tub, "you know."

"Am I?" she blushed softly, slinking further into the frothy suds.

"Very," placing the towel within reach, he sat overlooking the beauty before him, "You're like a treasured piece of art. Comfortingly familiar, but ever captivating."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." the beauty of the poetically stated phrase astounded her. "Where the hell do you come up with all these amazing things?"

"Consider the subject." Red waved a hand.

Tracing the curve of her cheek, Red lost himself to the creamy flesh, "Just when I think I have you memorized and imprinted in my mind," he followed the sloping line of her earlobe, "I stumble over a hidden secret I never noticed before..."

Red's eyes scanned his piece of art, captivated by the teasing glimpses of skin peeking out from under the mountains of bubbles... more specifically, a beauty mark.

One of which he never noticed before. Though now, as she sat here with the sun as her backdrop and makeup less, he could see the charming mark gracing the corner of Lizzy's eye.

"Will I always be like that to you?" she asked quietly, a tiny fear niggling at the back of her mind.

"Most definitely." he reached, touching his new favorite spot of the day.

"How can you be so sure." she tried so hard to hide the doubt in her voice, though knew she probably failed miserably.

"Because as I said, you're beautiful..."

"Beauty fades."

"You're worried about growing older?" he questioned.

"Well...I suppose." Wasn't every woman?

"I think you're more attractive now than you were when I met you a year ago." Red confessed.

Liz scowled up at him, unsure how to take that exactly.

Red chuckled at the sour expression, having received exactly the response he had wished for.

"Contrary to popular belief, there is more to a person's worth than physical beauty." Red began, drawing Liz's rapt attention.

"I believe you to be incredibly beautiful, desirable and sexy... physically," he didn't deny it. He could sit there all day and expound on her physical attributes.

"Why do I feel there is a 'but' coming?" she wondered aloud.

"But... your maturity, quick-wittedness, enlightenment ... and confidence," he continued, "all that growth shows in your very demeanor, now."

She hadn't quite thought about it like that before. "Are you sure you don't have me mixed up with someone?"

"It may sound trite, but you've blossomed, and it shows in all areas. You've become very stylish, poised and self-assured." Red's eyes softened.

"There is nothing more attractive than a woman with confidence and a positive outlook on her life, especially in your case, with all the negativity surrounding it."

She had to admit; she laughed more, worried less... loved with all her heart.

"And to top it all off," he looked at her in that special way, "... you're a fabulous lover."

Liz's cheeks reddened at the ready compliments Red bestowed on her.

"You've matured into a very desirable woman, Elizabeth." Red stated. "I have never loved you more than I do at this moment," he lifted her chin, holding her eyes steadily, "...until tomorrow arrives and I realize I love you even more."

Staring adoringly at the woman, Red traced newly formed laugh lines and her thinning cheeks, marking the last vestiges of her baby fat... her supposed youth, disappearing.

"With age comes real beauty, baby."

---

After Red's words earlier, Liz had readied herself for this adventure with bolstered confidence and anticipation.

Glancing at her attire and immaculate hair and makeup in the mirror's reflection, she felt her posture transform. The way she walked and held herself was... different.

"I'm sure you already know it," Red came in behind her, taking in the vision, "... but you're absolutely stunning."

"I do..." Liz teased, smiling over her shoulder at the man. "It's always nice to hear, regardless."

She felt poised, stylish and confident. Now it was time to show all the doubters she belonged here... with Red.

"I enjoy hearing you say that." Red's eyes twinkled with delight, "Let's have some fun, shall we?"

Walking the second-floor balcony arm-in-arm, they meandered their way to the grand staircase, mingling with the milling crowds.

Red noted, as both men and women alike warmly welcomed Lizzy into the fold as Red's fiancée, she further relaxed after each introduction.

Working the room, Red couldn't have been more proud with Lizzy there by his side.

Much to his delight, and relief; Lizzy smiled, laughed, even made sport of him good-naturedly a time or two... more than holding her own with this overly confident, often egotistical, crowd.

It was obvious he wasn't the only person enchanted by her presence. More than a few men fell under her spell.

The woman was an endearing balance of intelligence and naiveté, which was positively charming.

Mainly because she owned up to it.

While most people would have acted as if they already knew everything or directed the conversation to other subjects, if stumbled or flummoxed...

Lizzy came right out and asked questions about the unknown, enthralled by the knowledge thrown her way. She had been engaging as hell, without even trying.

Due to Lizzy alone, more than a dozen offers to visit faraway places she had never been, had come their way.

Sincere invitations meant to draw the woman out and become better acquainted with someone which truly held their interest.

Along with a subtle hint to Red, there was also interest in doing business with him as well.

It had been a damned productive afternoon.

Finally, making their way through the hoards of guests and waiters carrying overloaded trays, they entered through the opened double doors of the grand dining room.

Liz smiled her pleasure, immersing herself in such class and elegance.

Soft color tones, gorgeous chandeliers hanging from intricate inlaid ceilings, brocade seating and rich woods greeted them as they strolled into the opulent room.

The rich aromas, lively chatter and tinkling of silverware and crystal added to Liz's earlier thoughts, reminding her of the stately ships of yesteryear.

Red's mouth curved, charmed by Lizzy's awe of her surroundings. But then, he couldn't blame her. Mark had done well with the renovations.

Mark had stated he had wanted some old world charm from a bygone era, something reminiscent of the turn of the century... without the clutter. If Lizzy's reaction was anything to judge by, the man had hit his mark.

Even Red felt as if he should sport a celluloid collar, pocket watch and place a silk fan in Lizzy's hand.

"Let's get to our table," Red suggested, "and I'll grab some drinks."

Making their way through the gathered crowd, Red occasionally stopped for a quick hello and introduction and a promise to catch up, before moving on.

Francis neared them, drink in hand. "Red, Lizzy... you look beautiful."

Red held his expression when Francis cocked a wry eyebrow. "Thank you, Francis. So do you."

"Not you, her." Francis sighed wearily. "Our table is over there." he gestured towards a long bay of windows overlooking the amazing hues of the early evening sky.

"Where's Dembe?" Red searched the room for his right-hand man.

"At the table next to ours," Francis pointed, "besting the guards again this year with his stats, as usual."

"Stats?" Liz queried.

"Faster mile, lower cholesterol, better BMI..." Red rambled on, rolling his hand expressively, "better hair, more muscles... you get my drift."

Liz's mouth pulled into a smile. It seemed the promised competitions, at least for Dembe, had already begun.

Approaching their table, Red pulled Lizzy's chair free. "What did you want to drink? Anything in particular?" he gingerly slid the cushioned seat in as she sat.

"Surprise me." she smiled up at him as the man walked towards the bar.

Nodding at their approaching host, Liz smiled her welcome to the unknown couple beside him.

"Lizzy," Mark gestured, offering the introductions, "this is Michael and Susan Fairfax."

Offering her hand, Liz welcomed the enthralling and striking couple she'd heard so much about.

They appeared around Red's age and were said to live in Italy... though their accents appeared more British to Lizzy's ear.

Michael had dark brown hair with flecks of gray at his temples and well kept facial hair. He very much reminded Liz of a professor from her college days that all the girls swooned over.

All that was missing were the elbow patches on his sleeves to complete the picture.

While the man was playful and humorous, there was also an air of intimidation about him.

More than once, Liz felt like a bug under a microscope, having found the man's piercing blue eyes focused intently on her as she spoke.

Such intensity actually unnerved her a time or two.

Susan, like Maria... was the epitome of sophistication.

The woman's stylishly cut caramel blonde hair framed and highlighted her stunning bone structure and hazel-green eyes.

Her tailored clothing accentuated her svelte figure and graceful stature. It was obvious the clothes fit Susan, not that Susan fit the clothes. The woman found her own style, one which spoke of comfort and class.

While Liz may have felt self-conscious to sit across from a woman so cultured even two weeks ago, she now felt no such apprehension.

While she strove to have half of what came naturally to Susan, she was getting better in piecing together a wardrobe that suited her and knew with practice, she, too, would find what worked best for her own imitable style.

Red's earlier words jangled in her inner ear... With age comes real beauty.

While she wasn't in a class with Susan, Liz felt she was on her way.

Susan truly was captivating, Liz knew that much.

Aside from the woman's husky and sultry tone, one reminiscent of a Lauren Bacall or Kathleen Turner... Susan's sense of humor was delightful.

In just these few short minutes, Susan had cut the men at the table with such quick droll wit... they stared at her with great respect and open admiration.

Liz listened contentedly, catching up on news and even juicy gossip when the sound of Francis' heavy sigh of aggravation broke the flow.

"Damn it..." the man grumbled under his breath, his attention concentrated on something across the room.

"What? What's wrong?" Liz whispered, leaning.

"Lizzy, let me handle this, okay." Francis grinned, pushing his chair back. "Don't let her leave this table." he warned Mark, gesturing to the problem at hand.

Liz frowned, confused, trailing after the man's departure. It was then the source of Francis' exasperation came into view.

"Oh, my God!" Liz hissed her disbelief, attempting to push her chair back.

"Simmer down there, firecracker," Mark laughed, catching the back of the latter in a firm grip. "Let Francis field this one, hmm?"

"Come on, man!" Ben punched Mark's arm repeatedly, "let Liz go!" he urged, "I missed the first go-round with those two. I'm entitled here!"

Liz primly reseated herself, sensing Susan's full attention focused on her now.

"There will be no scene, I assure you." Liz bit the words, remembering where she was. No way in hell was she going to spoil the image these people held of her... not for the likes of Natalia!

Dividing his attention between the live-wire beside him and Francis, Mark breathed a sigh of relief as Francis artfully interrupted Natalia's intent to approach Red.

Carefully balancing the drinks in his hand, Red rolled exasperated eyes as he side-stepped the woman, hastily moving on.

Giving a brief nod of thanks to his ally for the rescue, Red continued on his original path without misstep.

"I see you've met Natalia." Susan based the assumption on Elizabeth's dark, narrowed eyes and carefully tense body language.

"Liz not only met Natalia," Mark laughed heartily, "she beat the shit out of her."

"T-That isn't what happened at all." Liz denied the allegations, blushing slightly. "It was simply a... misunderstanding."

Grinning her interest, Susan leaned her chin onto a relaxed fist... obviously wanting to hear of that story.

"Oh, do tell Mark," Susan insisted the actual story be told. "We're all ears, darling... rest assured."

Regaling the table with the lowdown on the trip to Vegas, Mark produced a short snippet of video taken of the fisticuffs to fully paint the picture.

Ben cackled his glee, "Did Silas just chop Natalia's hair off?"

"He said, he wished it had been her damned head..." Mark supplied gaily.

"Here, here!" Susan lifted a glass in salute. "I've always liked Silas, now I know why."

"I really dislike that woman." Red sighed on his approach, sliding Lizzy's drink across the table.

"Let it go." he muttered aside to a patiently waiting Lizzy. "And let's not ruin Mark's newly renovated hotel...all right?"

"You know that's not what happened, Red." she desperately tried to save face.

Red offered a double take, "Yeah... okay."

Francis followed, plopping dramatically in his chair. "Crazy bitch..." he drawled his opinion of the woman he just left.

"What the hell did she want?" Liz scowled.

"Universal peace." Francis yawned, "...what she always wants."

"Natalia deserves every bitch slap that comes her way, if you ask me." Susan piped in. "She tried a move on Michael," the woman grinned cheekily, "... it might have gone somewhere had Michael had time to figure out what to do with her, or himself, for that matter."

"When sex is thrown at one so unexpectedly," Michael shrugged, half-heartedly, "one never quite knows how to respond accordingly."

"...I do," Francis disagreed, breaking the tension at the table.

The afternoon continued, with no further mention was made of Natalia.

Liz lost count how many people stopped by to chat. More than a few, in Liz's humble opinion, desired to be seen with the group congregated at her table.

Sitting his drink down, Red caught Lizzy's intriguing expression.

"... What?" he chuckled, "you look like the proverbial Cheshire cat. What's going on?"

"I've never sat at the cool kids' table before." Liz whispered.

"Stick with me, baby, and you'll be invited to all the good parties."

---

After a lavish lunch, Liz expected a little dancing... perhaps a stroll with Red among the lovely gardens which would have ended the afternoon on a high note for her but...

At a designated, appointed time, all diners arose, seemingly well-versed in what was to come next on the day's agenda.

Liz placed her napkin on the table, allowing Red to assist her in rising.

"What?" she watched a gathered crowd already head out the exits of the dining room to destinations unknown. "Are we leaving?"

The luncheon had wound down, coffee and liquors consumed. The lights had flickered to a bright intensity. That's when the migration had begun.

"It's like the Eloi being called to the blare of the siren." Francis offered his observation of the politely dispersed crowd.

"All's clear," Ben adopted a British accent. "Morlocks on the horizon."

"Are we going to be eaten?" Liz played along even as Red gently directed her to the nearest exit as well.

"I certainly have no objections to dining on your delectable flesh." Red kept his tone low, his look private.

Liz hit his forearm playfully, "Behave," she scolded, "... for now." she added before returning to the subject at hand. "What's going on?"

She noted several groups of people breaking off further down the corridor, each entering different rooms at different intervals.

Red directed her to their right, just a few steps from their former location.

She hastily noted a billboard that had not been present upon their entrance to the dining room earlier.

"Sophisticated games for the Elite." she read the print as she passed. "Challenge your mind and learn insights into your worst enemies mentality."

She tossed Red a quizzical stare. He chuckled his delight. "The more complicated a society, the more need for the simplicity of games."

"Are you quoting Star Trek?" Ben was obviously hyped-up, ready for any challenge thrown his way.

Red cast the guy a glance, "Getting in the swing of things, Ben?"

"I've been reading trivia shit all month." the young man was beyond excited. "I'm gonna kick your ass this year."

Red smiled placatingly, "We shall see." he directed Lizzy to a table.

Long-stemmed sterling silver platforms held decoratively etched name plates embossed with flourishing calligraphy, directed visitors to their assigned seats.

"Did we get our usual set-up." Red enquired of Michael Fairfax.

"We're here," the man seated his wife, having checked the name tags provided. "That's you."

Liz blinked, taking notice of her name written in silver etching on an expensive stationary place card. She took a seat, feeling rather like Alice in Wonderland for the moment.

Mark was demanding everyone's attention, standing at a podium of sorts, hitting the polished mahogany surface with an authoritative hand.

"Settle down now, lets get the activities underway in a civilized, organized manner," he arched a teasing brow, "which, for you people... is asking a lot, I know."

Laughter and groans of despair met his efforts. Francis and Ben hissed and booed the man.

Mark lifted a staying hand, "Everyone knows the rules."

Staff brought stylish trophies forth with all due pomp and ceremony. The crowd applauded their approval.

"These authentic, highly prized... ridiculously expensive awards..."

Red chuckled, for Mark's showmanship was evidentially on display.

"They are rejects from last year's polo matches and you know it, Mark!" Some man jibbed from the audience, bringing laughter at Mark's expense.

Mark shrugged, "Hey... recycling is 'in' now, don't bust my chops, Delvechi!"

More laughter ensued.

"Anyway... as I was saying before so rudely interrupted," Mark lifted a wry brow to his antagonist, "these lovely trophies will be the prize for the lucky individuals today."

"Anyone would be proud to display the evidence of his, or her, victory over you lesser crowd." he disdained that portion of those gathered.

Good-natured jokes ensued.

Liz was happy to see Red truly relaxing... enjoying himself for once.

"We will begin the festivities, as per custom, with a rousing game of trivia." Mark stepped aside for the officiant, then hastily returned to the podium to announce.

"Dembe Zuma has been officially barred from this year's tournament so everyone else can have a chance at a coveted trophy."

Loud, raucous applause met the announcement.

Liz slapped Red's hands apart as the man had joined in the thunderous ovation.

"Red!" she scolded, gasping her shock.

"Dembe's too damned smart for his own good," Francis explained the gaffe.

"And ours," Susan's gentle administered musical laughter eased Liz's mood. "We love him to death, but this is the games! It's dog eat dog out here."

Liz looked peevishly at a still smirking Red Reddington.

As the games progressed, Liz understood Susan's remark. The factions in the large room took the game seriously, but she was happy to note... all appeared to be having a great time.

Impartial judges all parties seemed to know and trust quickly settled any disputes.

To everyone's great surprise, a new judge was added this year.

Dembe Zuma's appearance on the platform was met with instant dissension.

Mark stood hastily calming the recalcitrant crowd.

"He's just a judge... just a judge." Dembe's presence was explained.

The large black man smiled most pleasantly at the cantankerous mob.

Red murmured aside, mindless to the ruckus taking place, "The small groups help everyone learn who is all in attendance. Each day, we will attend different activities," he checked on the woman's welfare. "You'd be surprised what you can learn about someone by how they play a game." he smiled mischievously at her. "Are you having fun?"

She smiled back, nodding.

Red lifted his hand, "The 79 A.D eruption of Mt. Vesuvius blanketed the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum." he corrected Ben's guess, earning a point for their table.

"He only knows because he was there!" Ben accused... loudly.

"Settle down, scooter pie." Francis advised. "We're all on the same team here, remember?"

Ben settled, "Oh, yeah... right." the man nodded amiably after a fashion. "You go, Red."

Liz had, at first, sent Ben an annoyed glance, but now, she only rolled expressive eyes for his seemingly traitorous behavior.

Red's grin had widened for the younger man's irritation, for he had worked for that reaction and intended to reap his enjoyment from Ben's overly competitive ways.

"There will be a plethora of parlor games, lad." Michael reminded paternally. "If you don't reign in some of that enthusiasm, I fear you will burn out before your time to shine arrives."

The moderator posed the question, "What color are the King's pants in Anthony Van Dyke's, Portrait Charles I, King of England?"

Red hit the center bell to signify he had the answer, "..Red." he answered pleasantly.

"Oh, well... you would say that." Ben derided.

"That is the correct answer," Michael stated.

"No..." Dembe disagreed quietly, "it is not."

"Like hell it's not." Red challenged.

The game was called for a few moments while the judges conferred. A few tense moments ensued.

The moderator stepped to the microphone, "There was some disagreement as to the correct answer, however, we have researched the problem."

Francis leaned, whispering loudly to the table. "They Googled it."

Liz nodded agreeably.

"In the photo," the moderator continued, "there is a reddish tint to the pants that could be misconstrued as orange." The woman smiled at Dembe, clearly wishing to take his side. "We're going to eliminate the question."

"... No, we're not." Red checked with his right-hand man.

The woman snidely remarked, "Yes, we are." she banged her gavel decidedly, marching smartly back to Dembe Zuma's side. She threw Red a scathing look, smiling up at Dembe in a beguiling manner.

Red chuckled his amusement, "So much for impartiality."

He received another 'look' for his efforts.

The games progressed with all having animated discussions on each topic which arose. Good-natured flouting and laughter rang out continuously.

Red had only just answered some obscure question concerning the Tunguska event when Liz's curiosity got the better of her.

"How do you know all this shit?" the depths of the man's pool of knowledge astounded her.

"I have to hold my own with Dembe." Red gave the man a cutting look. "He'll crucify me otherwise... and of course, my chosen vocation allows me plenty of time to read."

Liz was thrilled, perhaps too much so, when at the end of the game, 'her' table won the coveted trophy, boldly engraved to 'Ivan Ivanov, Third Place Winner, Donovan Manor Polo Finals'... the year had been scratched off.

Liz was proud of the part she played in securing the win and secretly wondered, firstly... why Ivan Ivanov had not bothered to pick up his trophy? And secondly... exactly who at their table would actually get to claim the prize for display?

She wasn't about to be petty and admit she was very proud Red had actually won the damned thing by answering most of the questions himself, but well... a trophy was a trophy.

That's what Sam had said, anyway. She glanced covetously after the hideous thing, unaware of doing so.

"Okay, people... round one has ended." Mark placed the questionable prize in the middle of the table absently. "The day is still young." he held up a hand to get everyone's attention.

"People! People!" he lifted his voice over the din. "Do not despair, the honor of your peers can be redeemed! On to a more skilled, challenging game!"

They brought a large hopper to the center table, one placed earlier with all sorts of paraphernalia, Liz had noted.

"My God, we aren't playing bingo, are we?" the spinning drum reminded her of the Wednesday nights she and Sam visited Saint Mary's church when she was a little girl. A warm feeling came over the woman at the thought.

"That's down the hall, love." Susan pointed. "A rowdier bunch frequents that parlor." she wrinkled her nose distastefully. "Best steer clear of those rabble-rousers... until one has sufficiently fortified oneself with the correct amount of spirits." she held up her drink to illustrate.

"Listen to my wife," Michael affectionately patted the woman's hand. "She knows all about ghosts and goblins."

"We weren't discussing those 'spirits', love-of-my-life," Susan chided.

"Oh...well, then never mind." Michael returned to his own 'spirited' drink.

"Me first!" Francis seemed to know what game would come next, for he had pushed Ben roughly aside to clamor to the front of the room.

He hurriedly shoved his hand into the briskly spinning hopper as it came to a slow roll, retrieving a folded piece of paper.

"You can't just be first!" Ben was right there, complaining. "There are rules here!"

"Oh, let him go dear," Susan pleaded. "He seems so very excited to do so."

"No!" Ben shoved Francis' shoulder, his expression set. "The rules say, Mark flips a coin if there are any dissenters!"

"There's no such word!" Francis was pretty sure. "Besides, I called it!"

Mark sauntered onto the scene, flipping the requisite coin.

Ben and Francis both settled. Mark nodded to Ben, who called 'tails'.

Mark slapped the coin against his hand, showing the coin, "Go ahead, Francis."

Francis gleefully did so, gloating at a dissenting, but reserved Ben Gilchrist. "...Loser!"

"Yeah, well, your girlfriend dumped your loser ass!" Ben grumbled on his way back to the table.

"We 'uncoupled'!" Francis corrected any misconceptions. "There was no 'dumping' involved. None what-so-ever!"

"...Francis," Red placed himself between the warring pair.

"Yeah?" Francis' frown fell away, replaced by a congenial smile.

"Play the game..." Red advised.

The game proceeded.

Francis' tongue was darting about frantically as the young man concentrated hard on the large projected screen and the drawings he was attempting to create.

The crowd animatedly fell into the spirit as all tried to decipher the almost mystical creations appearing on the lighted surface.

"No, no, no!" Francis hastily crossed through the first set of clues, for none were getting the meaning of his message.

Liz studied the odd etching with an analytical mind then realized, "My God, what am I doing... this is Francis." she murmured.

"Is that," Susan's stylish brows rose, "...a penis?"

"It is, my angel." Michael replied succinctly. "It appears to be wielding a knife."

"Is it stabbing a... banana?" Susan's interest rose.

"Indeed, dear... it is." Michael concurred in a laconic manner. "Or, it appears to be."

Liz's head fell back in despair for the description of what Francis was drawing was exactly as described.

Red chuckled beside her.

"Well, of course," Mark peered hard at his friend's work, "that first set of stick figures... it has to be the Three Stooges, right?"

"And the arrow points to Moe." Ben had got that much.

Red's chuckle grew in intensity.

"You got the Three Stooges... out of that?" Liz was aghast.

"Any male would, dear." Susan was resigned to the logic. "I'm still working on the penis."

"You can work on mine if you so desire, precious." Michael offered gallantly.

Susan waved him aside, "Work on it yourself," she advised. "I'm trying to concentrate here."

Michael managed to appear crestfallen.

"What the hell is that?" Mark was getting irritated at the third set of drawings Francis was executing. "A fat stick figure, bald head, glasses?"

"Is it, Gandhi, the Musical?" Ben, believing he had deciphered the puzzle, bellowed out what must surely be the correct answer.

Red's laughter was a pleasing sound; it made Elizabeth smile over at the man.

"Where the hell did you get musical?" Mark was a serious player, obviously, his tone miffed.

"Aren't those musical notes?" Ben pointed.

"The stick figure is fat," Susan scratched her head. "Gandhi wasn't fat." she huffed.

"There was never a musical about Gandhi in the first place!" Liz sighed her annoyance.

"They aren't musical notes." Red helped out a tad, sensing the direction the guesses might take would be a total waste of time.

Ben scowled hard at the scribblings, "They look like musical notes."

"I'll give you that much," Red was hard pressed to hold his delight.

"I say," Susan was suddenly appalled, "should our table be playing this round?"

"It isn't as if we will ever actually decipher those hieroglyphs, angel." Michael poo-poohed the notion.

"It's not like anyone else has figured it out." Ben stated. "Points are points! We guess it, we get the point, right Mark?" he anxiously awaited the verdict.

Mark spread his hands aimlessly, "From the mouths of babes." he concurred.

"Who you calling 'babe'?" Ben took umbrage.

"A figure of speech, dumpling." Susan soothed the man's wounded male ego.

"I don't swing that way," Ben announced to any and all, "...that's all I'm saying."

"Why ever does that penis have hands?" Susan wondered aloud.

"So it may wield the knife, my precious." Michael helpfully supplied. "Is it not obvious?"

"What's up with the mouth?" Ben demanded an explanation.

"That it might eat that fish?" seemed the simple enough answer to Susan.

Francis drew a remarkably accurate representation of a honeybee, tacking on a capital 'Y', directly beneath the image.

Red sighed heavily, "Oh, that boy..." he shook a woeful, disparaging head. "There are so many simpler methods of communicating his thoughts... why he didn't choose any of them?"

He allowed the thoughts to go on its merry way.

"You know?" Liz gaped the realization, pointing an almost accusing finger at her tablemate.

Red sing-songed his head, grinning widely, "Isn't it obvious?"

"You've got to be kidding!" It was Mark's turn at the incredulous bat. "You know what the fuck that is?" he pointed at the conglomerate of nonsensical marks on the screen. "That!"

Red appreciated the many, many looks of disbelief and astonishment thrown his way.

He could also reluctantly appreciate Francis' inventiveness, clever and... dare he say, ingenious artwork.

"Then you must be incredibly proud," Susan was ready to admire and honor a worthy contestant.

"Or terrified you actually understand the workings of that boy's mind." Michael had other thoughts on the matter, obviously.

"Don't be a sore loser, darling." Susan scolded. "One must admire Francis' tenacity if not his artistic talents."

"Do so if you like, Pooh Bear, but I personally believe someone should call foul on this one." Michael stated aristocratically.

"Hey!" Ben objected strenuously. "We get a point if no one guesses, and if Red guesses... we get the point. No one is calling foul!" he scanned the crowd belligerently. "No one, you see!"

"Was that your Edward G. Robinson impression?" Mark wanted to know.

Shrugging, Michael reseated himself, seeking solace in his refreshed drink.

Mark stood, a bewildered look on his face, "Does everyone concede on this one?"

"I don't." Red replied airily.

"Show off," Liz giggled infectiously.

All conferred, and a few even threw out last minute, desperate guesses.

But in the end, all turned to Red Reddington, curiosity winning out over the need to beat the competition.

"Francis," Red peered closely at the screen yet again, "are those little markings in the top part of the screen... seagulls?"

"That one is," Francis quickly pointed out a 'musical note'. "That one is a harpoon." his index finger tapped an identical 'note'.

Red nodded amiably.

Heads tilted this way and that as each individual gamely attempted to make sense of the crude drawing.

"And the banana?" Red motioned accordingly.

"More to the point, why is the dick stabbing the banana?" Ben scowled.

"That ain't no banana," Francis' incredulous look said it all. "It's a boat, you dipshit!"

"Let sleeping dogs lie, my boy." Michael whispered aside to Ben. "The minute we all placate him, the quicker we can rejoin reality."

Red nodded his understanding, "I assumed as much," he admitted. "Is this your rendition of... Moby Dick?"

Francis pranced frenetically about, his fists punching the air animatedly. "Yes...yes...yes!

Loud groans of disbelief filled the hall as all realized now, the logic of Francis' offering ... sort of?

"But... you drew a honeybee. Even I could discern that clue." Susan admitted.

Francis hit the figure with his marker, "Moe," he pointed to the Three Stooges figures, "...bee!" he defiantly dared anyone to challenge his logic on that one.

"And the 'Y'?" Red mentioned in passing, if for no other reason but to rile the boy up.

Francis glanced, a perplexed look crossing his face, "Uh..." he glanced over his work, deciphering it himself.

"Moe," he checked off the clues, "...bee." the boy's face fell as he realized his mistake.

"Oh," he turned a sheepish face to the crowd, quickly erasing the unneeded addition. "I guess I didn't need the 'Y'. Just forget that was there."

Liz dropped her chin dramatically, scoffing a disgusted sound.

Red held his laughter, tipping his tumbler, sipping the warm liquid.

"But the rest of the stuff is right on!" Francis bolstered hastily enough. "You guys should have guessed it straight off."

"You couldn't have just drawn a whale?" Michael had to say it or die.

"How the hell could anyone get Moby Dick out of that?" Francis was flummoxed.

"In his defense," Mark reminded, "the job of the artist is to give decent clues without giving away the answer to opposing teams." he reluctantly admitted. "Once Francis explained his art, it made sense."

"Evidently not," Susan chuckled her delight. "Francis, you're utterly charming... and we love you dearly."

"Ha!" Francis taunted joyously. "You losers lost! My table won!"

Ben joined in the jubilant rejoicing. "We got that point!" he adopted a bright smile, giving Francis a 'finger gun' for a game well played.

"Losers!" Francis preened as he proudly strolled back to his table, making the 'L' sign on his forehead with his fingers as he passed each table. "Pack it up! Go home... admit it, you don't have a snowflake's chance!"

Liz tried so very hard not to find his attitude amusing, but it was a losing battle. Her giggled burst forth like trickling water from an Artesian well, in the end.

Red joined in, thoroughly enjoying Lizzy enjoying the festivities.

"All right, smart guy," a player at another table prodded Red in a friendly manner. "Let's see how well you do before the class." he motioned Red to the fore.

Liz urged Red forward, excitement in her eyes. "Go on... show him, baby!" she beamed her pride.

Accepting the challenge, Red arose, determined to not let Lizzy down.

Spontaneous applause broke out as he strolled to the hopper. He grinned his enjoyment, reaching in... extracting a small piece of paper.

The crowd settled back down as he read the neatly typed print to one of his favorite books.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

Red's lips twitched. He sought Elizabeth's eyes; the woman practically glowed with anticipation and contentment.

He sent her a mischievous wink before turning to the screen.