![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The bar was nearly empty as Louise idly polished a tumbler she'd only just finished polishing a half-hour before; glancing up at the clock to the right of the dumbwaiters, she noticed it had only gone half-two. Sighing, she replaced the glass atop the small pyramid she'd been building behind the bar when the door to the place creaked open at last.
FINALLY. For God's sake, a customer. At least, this assured her next hour or so would fly by quickly, especially if they kept her busy ordering drinks---and then, she looked up.
JIM.
Tossing her bar towel over her shoulder, there was a small hint of a smirk tugging at one edge of her mouth as she strolled over and stood in front of him.
"Finally come to visit me at my not-so-brand-spanking-new place of employ, have you?" she quipped to her ex-partner-turned-bounty hunter. Taking a sponge from the sink below, she began wiping down the wood surface, assessing him. "You need a shave. Last time I saw you, it looked more of a 5 o'clock shadow. This? More like half-past eight," she deadpanned, though there was still a glint of a smile in her aqua irises.
It hurt, seeing him; that she couldn't deny. After they'd both been dismissed by Barnes, his bitterness at both the system and the fact that things turned markedly worse on his watch (Indian Hills escapees, Dr Strange doing a number on his psyche, anyone?) led him far astray from Louise. He'd all but disappeared, taking the law into his own hands, his dogged conscience leading him over his heart so he could 'fix his mistakes'. Of course, he didn't want her to get hurt by his vigilantism, most likely because he knew she'd only follow him into the darkness; but it was cold comfort to the redhead, who'd only recently begun to use the entirety of her bed, and not just the one side.
Taking the bottle of Jameson off the shelf, Louise poured him a double measure and set it in front of him as she leaned against the till.
FINALLY. For God's sake, a customer. At least, this assured her next hour or so would fly by quickly, especially if they kept her busy ordering drinks---and then, she looked up.
JIM.
Tossing her bar towel over her shoulder, there was a small hint of a smirk tugging at one edge of her mouth as she strolled over and stood in front of him.
"Finally come to visit me at my not-so-brand-spanking-new place of employ, have you?" she quipped to her ex-partner-turned-bounty hunter. Taking a sponge from the sink below, she began wiping down the wood surface, assessing him. "You need a shave. Last time I saw you, it looked more of a 5 o'clock shadow. This? More like half-past eight," she deadpanned, though there was still a glint of a smile in her aqua irises.
It hurt, seeing him; that she couldn't deny. After they'd both been dismissed by Barnes, his bitterness at both the system and the fact that things turned markedly worse on his watch (Indian Hills escapees, Dr Strange doing a number on his psyche, anyone?) led him far astray from Louise. He'd all but disappeared, taking the law into his own hands, his dogged conscience leading him over his heart so he could 'fix his mistakes'. Of course, he didn't want her to get hurt by his vigilantism, most likely because he knew she'd only follow him into the darkness; but it was cold comfort to the redhead, who'd only recently begun to use the entirety of her bed, and not just the one side.
Taking the bottle of Jameson off the shelf, Louise poured him a double measure and set it in front of him as she leaned against the till.
