AN: Just a fun little one-shot missing scene. I always wondered how Seth reacted when he found out Jessica did, in fact, go to the Starlight Hotel, but one day I got thinking, what if he caught her in the outfit she'd worn there?
My sincerest thanks to Laurawritesfiction for helping me figure out a little bump I ran into near the end!

Jessica laughed to herself a little as she pulled her coat from the basket of her bike, slipped it on, and zipped it up over that ridiculous shirt she felt like she was on the verge of falling out of. What had she been thinking, coming here like this? Yet it did seem fruitful. Well, at least she knew who Auggie was now. And that bartender… something about him set her investigative senses tingling, but she hadn't quite placed it yet. Maybe it was just the nature of working in such a seedy bar. It's not like she had excessive experience in such locales, she thought, chuckling and shaking her head at herself.

With her scarf tied over that absurd spiky hair, her coat properly hiding her assets, and far more sensible shoes on her feet, she took off for home, hoping against hope that the darkening skies and the dinner time hour would prevent anyone from looking closely enough to notice the gaudy makeup that was so far from her usual, more natural style.

Hope—or luck, or whatever it was—was with her, it seemed. She pulled through the gate in her fence a little over half an hour later, quickly stowed the bike, then darted into her house the back way, grateful to have made it without anyone so much as waving a greeting at her. After removing and hanging her coat, she immediately headed for the stairs to go shower and change into something less ridiculous, but caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she pulled the scarf off her head, and then she couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Good grief, she'd used so much gel and hairspray that the scarf plus the half-hour bike ride still hadn't messed up the style! Though the "style" itself was so messy, who'd notice? On impulse, she slipped back into the shoes and started dancing for her reflection, then laughed at herself again. After another moment, she pulled the unlit cigarette out of her purse and held it between her lips like she'd done before, mumbling, "Do you got a light?" Oh good heavens! No wonder he'd responded as he did!

Just as she was mid-laugh, she heard her back door open and a familiar call of, "Jess? You home? Saw the lights on and…"

All laughter drained from her along with the color in her face (as near she could tell behind all that makeup). She spun quickly away from the mirror and all but ran up the stairs, desperately attempting to tie the scarf back over her head at the same time. In her haste, her finger got temporarily trapped in the knot, and while she was yanking to remove herself from her own trap, she nearly slipped on a step. She recovered her footing quickly enough and without injury, though still hadn't loosened the knot enough to remove her finger, but the whole affair had slowed her down. Before she could make it up the stairs she heard a voice behind her.

"Oh, Jess, there you are! You're—" And that was as much as Seth got out before stopping in his tracks.

Jessica, herself frozen halfway up the stairs as surely as if he'd physically caught her, knew he was staring at her and tried to deflect by calling over her shoulder, without turning around, "Oh, Seth, I was just about to go take a shower, but there are some cookies in the kitchen if you want to help yourself."

She got about two steps further before he barked, "Woman! What are you wearing?"

She'd hoped that from the back of the shirt he wouldn't notice how unusual the style was for her. Of course, even the combination of pumps and jeans, or the patterned scarf that so desperately clashed with the pattern of the shirt (since she hadn't intended to ever have both visible at the same time) were disparate as far as any outfit she ever wore was concerned. Leave it to Seth to choose now, of all times, to actually notice something about fashion.

Well, there was no help for it. Might as well let him have the full view and then have it out with him about her evening's activities. Jessica slowly turned around and, having finally disentangled her finger from the knot of the scarf, slowly removed the cloth from her head—her head which she held proudly erect, not wanting to look ashamed in her own home at her own clothing choices. She saw him take in the whole ensemble slowly, his gaze possibly lingering a bit longer at her unusually low neckline than anywhere else, and she resisted the urge to cover herself before he snapped his eyes away to the safer region of her gaudy makeup and spikey hair. If she could parade like this in front of strangers, why should she be ashamed of it in front of her best friend? But she knew exactly why, and he expressed it the moment he found his voice again.

"Jess," he said with a warning lilt in his voice, like he was scolding a disobedient child. "You went to the Starlight Hotel. Didntcha?"

"Well . . . well, honestly, Seth, you're the one who gave me the idea."

"I did no such thing!"

"You did! You said they'd never give a nice lady like me the right time of day, so I . . . ensured they would. And you know, it was very profitable!"

"Profitable?!"

"Yes, profitable, Seth! I learned several important facts and acquired a few new suspects in the process!"

"You went to try to narrow down suspects and came back with more and you call that profitable?"

"Of course!" Her ire was up even as her steps led her down, seeing no point in standing on the stairs above him for a conversation he clearly wasn't going to let her out of. Might as well have it out now. "It's not about acquiring or eliminating suspects, it's about acquiring and eliminating the correct suspects! If there are potential suspects we don't know about, those missing pieces mean eliminating the—"

"I know all that, Woman!" he hissed at her. "That's not my point a'tall!"

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Then just what is your point, Seth Hazlitt?"

"My point is, you're dressed like a—well, the way you're dressed, one might make certain assumptions of what kind of profit you could have made tonight!"

"Oh, Seth, really," she said, rolling her eyes. "I can only assume you're trying to imply that I look like a lady of the night, and my only comfort to your ridiculous assertion is that you clearly have no idea how such ladies dress, because I assure you, I am dressed in no such way!" Not that you'd know it from how that Auggie man had responded to her inquiries, telling her he was married with 3 kids like that made a difference to placing a bet.

Now Seth was moving from critical snark to downright bluster. "What—I don't—now just why should you care one way or the other what I do or don't know about—about—"

Jessica didn't leave him to continue floundering around in search of a word he would be willing to say, but it wasn't out of sympathy. It was out of impatient irritation and a need to answer the question she knew he was trying to ask by turning it around to a question of her own. "And just why should you care which way I am or am not dressed—in pursuit of solving a murder, mind you, not out of frivolous intent, not that that's any of your business!"

"Well, I'm seen around town with you often enough! It does reflect on me what my—my friend wears!"

"Nobody saw me, Seth! Nobody who knew me, anyway—I had a jacket over the shirt and different shoes on while I was on my bike, anybody who saw me only saw a bag in my basket and me biking in regular shoes, jeans, a jacket, and a scarf over my head!"

"And that ridiculous makeup you've got—" Just then his eyes fell on the small side table by the mirror, and nearly bugged out of his head as he choked off his words. "Jessica Beatrice Fletcher! Is that a—a—"

Jessica cringed as she realized what had caught his notice. "It's a cigarette, Seth," she responded defensively, "and before you jump down my throat about something else, you might take a moment to notice that it has not been lit, and to consider that I did not purchase a pack of them, I only bummed one from the bartender so I could ask that bookie for a light! He didn't have one."

"Well! Thank God for small blessings! What on earth would you have done if he did light it?"

"I—well, it's not like I've never had a cigarette before, Seth!" Oh dear, that might not have been the best choice of words. He looked about ready for an apoplexy then and there! "I mean, it was only the one time as a teenager, and I hated it, but I at least know how to get it started! I wouldn't have been actually smoking it, just waving it around and maybe putting it to my mouth every once in a while to keep up the pretense, and—why am I explaining this to you anyway?!"

"Why indeed! Woman, did you just use the 'I wasn't going to inhale' excuse?"

They both paused a moment, then burst out laughing, all their respective fight going out of them both as they fully and properly took in the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Oh, Seth," Jessica sighed, brushing tears of laughter from her eyes. "I know you worry, but I promise you, nobody there knows who I am. They're not exactly my typical circle, as you well know."

"Yes, well," Seth said, looking at her fondly yet still with some concern. "You know, Jess, when Margie was growing up, she went through plenty of stubborn stretches in which Ruth and I had to keep telling her just because something hadn't happened yet didn't mean it couldn't. Didn't sink in for her until she was 11 years old and a chair that 'never broke no matter how many times she tipped back in it' had a worn-out leg snap when she tipped her chair back at the table. Girl broke her arm and needed stitches in the back of her head from the broken glass of the china cabinet, all at once. Painful but permanent lesson learned. Those lessons tend to be a lot harder and more painful in situations adults find themselves in, and most adults aren't increasing those risks by going around looking for murderers to boot. I just don't want you to have to learn the hard way that just because you had good intentions and were being careful doesn't mean you're invincible."

She smiled and took his hand, covering it with both of hers. "Seth, you're a dear to worry so, but I'm not unaware of the risks involved. I just place greater value on finding the truth and seeing justice served."

"And there's nothing I value more than your life."

They stared at one another for a moment that was becoming quickly heated. It wasn't that they never found themselves in such a situation before, but usually one or both of them pulled away, they changed the subject, and they never acknowledged it. This time, when his fond gaze on her face flickered down to her fairly exposed chest and his gaze heated in a whole different way—well, maybe it was the couple glasses of neat scotch, not that she'd even finished the second one. Maybe it was being dressed this way giving her an added boost of confidence. Maybe it was just time.

But for some reason, when Seth cleared his throat and started to pull his hand away, she held it tight instead of letting him go, and it's possible she might have straightened a little and pushed her chest out a bit further.

Seth cleared his throat again, apparently torn between trying to convince himself to look at her face like a respectful gentleman, and not wanting to look her in the eye just now. "Jess, honestly, where did you get this getup?"

She meant to tell him one of her nieces had left the shirt behind after a recent visit. She really meant to tell him that.

Instead, she found herself bouncing her hips a little like she had done in the bar, leaning her upper body a little closer, and asking in that ridiculous accent she'd used before, "Why, don't you like it, handsome?"

She thought it would make him laugh. At least, she told herself she thought it would make him laugh. Some part of her might actually have hoped for an honest answer, words to match the lust she could see him trying to tamp down.

She certainly didn't expect it to make him growl slightly, glance at her lips, lean toward her just a bit, and then just as she was starting to close her eyes and tilt her head his way, wrench his hand from her grasp and turn away.

"What? Seth, what's wrong?"

When he didn't answer, she placed a hand on his shoulder and felt him stiffen. "Seth, what is it? Does this outfit really disgust you that much?"

"Disgust me? Woman, ridiculous layers of cosmetics notwithstanding, you are the most tempting I've ever seen you, and I've never seen you be anything but tempting!"

"Well, if you didn't notice, I wasn't exactly staving off your advances! Why did you stop?"

"You've been drinking, woman! I won't take advantage of your . . . your inebriation!"

"Seth, I'm not drunk!" She tugged on his shoulder a little but he resisted, refusing to turn back to her.

"Oh, don't try that with me, woman, I'm a doctor! What's more, I was a soldier! Have you any idea how many injuries I've treated for drunk people? I know what whisky smells like on someone's breath! And I heard your giddy laughter when I was coming in, too, but what's more, you would never act like that with me when you're sober!"

She wouldn't let him stay faced away from her any longer. If he wouldn't turn, she would move in front of him. She did so, and as soon as she was within his field of vision, she looked him straight in the eye, stretched her arms out into a T, and started alternating touching the tip of her nose with the pointer finger of each hand. Then she positioned herself on the line where two boards of her hardwood floor met, and started walking along that line, perfectly managing heel-to-toe steps despite the pumps she wore, and at the same time rapidly spewing out the letters of the alphabet backwards without pausing for breath, much less for recall.

Finally, she turned back toward him, lifting her hands with a bit of a flourish, as though she'd just completed a magic trick. Seth did not applaud her trick, though. He merely stared, dumbfounded. She laughed and said again, "I am not drunk, Seth! You heard me laughing at the mirror's reflection of the ridiculous sight I make, nothing more! I had a single glass of scotch and took only a few sips from a second glass. I nursed the first glass as long as I could, in fact. I couldn't investigate properly if I was drunk!"

"Then . . . why . . . you wouldn't . . . ." Full sentences, or even complete thoughts, seemed to have entirely abandoned Seth's wheelhouse.

Jessica slowly walked back to Seth, stepping very close to him, resting one hand on his chest and the other playing gently with his bowtie. "I would, Seth. You and I both know we've found ourselves in . . . moments of chemistry, let's say . . . several times before. I'm just tired of turning away from those moments."

She released his bowtie in favor of cupping his cheek with her palm. "I've been so afraid, Seth, but . . . well, watching Vivian Proctor this week torn between two men who love her, but only one of whom she loves . . . it seems ridiculous that there are people in the world in such, uh, tangled webs they've woven, so to speak, when with no tangled webs at all, after losing the first love of my life, I've been blessed with the second love of my life, and yet . . . done nothing about it for four years now. I just . . . think it's time we do something about entangling ourselves, don't you?"

Seth covered her hand on his cheek, blinking back tears. "You mean it, Jess?"

"I do. Absolutely."

He smiled, a wide smile that was softened by the unguarded enamored expression he wore. "I guess we're both blessed," he said softly, lifting his other hand to gently trace the edge of her neckline, not touching quite low enough to be risque but enough to once again emphasize to them both how low the shirt was. "Not everybody gets one single love of their lives. We both got two."

This time, when he leaned toward her, she already had her head tilting toward his, arms sliding behind his neck, and neither pulled away. For quite some time.