S1 E8 - Deep French
Richard's in a shabby bar with DI Chris Ricketts who's celebrating his divorce. Richard had reluctantly agreed to meet up for drinks but now Ricketts wants to find some women. Richard is refusing but won't say why so Ricketts scoffs, "Why not? We're both single, footloose and fancy-free, just two un-bespoke bachelors looking for a good time in paradise, aren't we?"
Richard fidgets in his chair, clearly trying to be polite, when behind them a steely voice wrapped in velvet waves a figurative war-hammer with three little words, "No, you're not."
Two slim dark hands come down onto Richard's shoulders from behind then cup his jaw to tilt his head so he's looking up into hot night-eyes. "At least, HE'S not." His chair tips back onto two legs. His feet fly out but he's braced by a lithe female body. He freezes for a moment then his hands swim up to clasp the arms that hold him in place as a kiss descends.
Camille has tracked him down.
The kiss goes on and on, little noises of appreciation drifting up from the chair while Camille shifts herself minutely every so often, all the better to enhance the kiss. Ricketts watches, a bit surprised and a lot jealous. He checks his watch after a few moments then leans a scoffy elbow onto the table. A few moments after that, he clears his throat but is ignored. His loud 'A-HEM!' does the trick, Camille breaks the kiss and gently lowers Richard's chair back onto its feet. Richard himself seems to be in some sort of trance.
Camille turns to Ricketts, "Sorry, but he was due home ages ago and he's VERY late. He's an important man with duties to perform, day and night, in town and at home. There's no time for drinking and picking up women. You understand?"
Ricketts looks up into intent brown hell and gulps, "Um, yep, I think I do. Sorry, didn't mean to interfere, I just assumed…"
She cuts him off with a shark's grin, "You assumed wrong." Then her voice softens and she nudges Richard's shoulder gently, "Come on, snap out of it, Harry's starving. I'll wait for you outside." She gives Ricketts one last deadly look then glides out into the night.
DI Poole blinks, clears his throat, looks a bit sheepish, "Um, she's right, I AM late. Harry won't eat for her, cheeky little bugger likes to wind her up, I think. Anyway, I've got to… um…"
Ricketts waves a hand, "I get it, chum, far be it from me to keep you from your duties."
Richard flushes slightly as he stands, "Sorry you had to witness that, she's usually much more circumspect. I don't know what gets into her sometimes… but I really am most awfully late. I wonder how she found me?"
Ricketts snorts, "Probably hunted through every bar until this one. That was really quite something, I don't think I've ever witnessed a true Deep French before."
Poole turns back, eyebrows raised, "A what?"
"You just got Deep Frenched, my friend. By an expert. Lucky you."
Poole shrugs modestly, "Oh, well, you know how it is. The French, such an impulsive people. What can you do? Cultural differences and all."
Ricketts grins, "Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" Poole looks slightly mystified so Ricketts shoos him away, "Off you go, I wouldn't keep that one waiting for all the tea in China."
Poole straightens his tie, "No indeed, not even for Da Hong Pao."
"No," Ricketts murmurs as he watches Poole speed away, "Not even for that." He sighs and mopes over his drink. It isn't even gone ten o'clock and his evening is ruined. He's just resigning himself to going back to his room when someone slips into Poole's recently vacated chair. The stranger looks vaguely familiar and Ricketts searches his memory.
The man speaks, "I been followin' her all evenin'. Almost lost her a couple a times but her swearin' in French kept me on track. I'm glad she found 'im before she decided t' set fire t' the strip an' flush him out like a stag outa the woods." The man picks up Poole's abandoned beer and glugs it down. He sets the bottle down and holds out a hand, "Myers, Officer Myers. We met on the Aiden Miles case, remember?"
Ricketts shakes hands, "Of course! How do you do, Officer Myers?"
The man sits back and studies him intently, "My friends call me Dwayne. Kin I call you Chris?"
"Sure thing, Dwayne, but now that Poole is safely in custody, why are you still here?"
Dwayne's eyes gleam and he leans forward, "Man, this island is just wakin' up. Did I hear right, you tried t' convince my boss t' go lookin' for women? With her on his trail day an' night?"
Ricketts sighs, "I had no idea they were an item and I don't really want to think about his great good fortune right now. I'm still alone and I don't want to be."
Dwayne laughs, "Yer not alone, you got me, I know where t' find the ladies. You interested?"
Ricketts sits up alertly, "You do? Yes, I'm VERY interested." He hushes a moment then says, "Um, are any of these ladies perhaps a little bit like her?"
Dwayne shakes his head, "No, man, not a one, but that's fer the best, don' you think?"
Remembering her warning gaze to him, Ricketts can't help but agree. Too bad. But then… he claps his hands, "OK, Dwayne, lead on. Just remember, I'm brand new on the dating scene and very out of practice so don't lead me to anyone dangerous, OK?"
Dwayne smiles slow, "The only real dangerous one we got onna island just left here an' I know fer a fact she's gonna be busy fer the next few hours, so OK, we're good t' go." He stands and waits for Ricketts to click his jaw back up into position.
"Did you say 'hours'? Oh, my god, what…?"
"Best you don' ask. Best you don' even think 'bout it. We never do. Suffice t' say, they've both calmed down. A lot." Dwayne rubs his hands together like he's getting ready to take on a big job, "Now, let's see what the town holds fer you an' me, yes?"
"Yes, let's." Ricketts stands and follows Dwayne out into the night.
END