2019-07-29 - We Need To Talk

We need to talk. Meet me at the trailer at 3.

Ruiz received the text thirty minutes before 3 o'clock in the afternoon the day after the strip club opening and by the tone of the text Dahlia was fully expecting him to be there. And if he wasn't, there would be hell to pay. Dahlia was fuming. That asshole thought that he could judge her? Fuck no. Not after what she learned from Graham this morning. She didn't even know if she could find the words to speak, her blood was boiling so hot.

Things had been going so nice. There was some lingering tension, sure. There was bound to be. But they were being civil with each other, and aside that tipsy conversation about 'what ifs' maybe they could almost be friends again. And then Ruiz had to go and fuck it up. Dahlia was inside the trailer, but the front door was open. He could hear clamoring around - like she was cleaning out things with a vengeance. She was clad in the same faded denim shorts and white tank top that she had been wearing the night before - hair tossed up in a ponytail. That pale white skin tinged pink.

Oh boy. This would be fun.

It may seem, based on the tardiness of the man's arrival, that he isn't going to show at all. It's nearly four by the time the telltale rumble of his truck's engine and crunch of gravel is heard out in the lot, followed by the shudder of the ignition being killed, and a door slamming. Booted footsteps then, the cadence both familiar and unhurried. He raps on the door twice, shoves his hands into his jacket's pockets, and looks over his shoulder as he waits for it to be opened.

The door was opened, a few garbage bags stacked up in the living room. Dahlia stalked in from one of the bedroom. Pointing a hangar at him. "Get in here. Close the damn door." Her anger had not lessened by much. If at all.

Once the door was closed, Dahlia didn't waste a second of time. "What the fuck were you thinking Javier?" Oohh the full name comes out.

The door opens to a very wary-looking Mexican, clothed in his usual off duty uniform of threadbare tee shirt, jeans and hiking boots, with his leather jacket and baseball cap thrown over top. He swivels back to study Dahlia once the door's open. A glance to the coat hangar in her hand. Then back to her face. A brow goes up, curiously, and he sidles on in before tugging the door shut. "I have no fucking clue what you're talking about," is murmured as he takes a lean against the wall, hands still jammed into his pockets. Shoulders a little tense when she comes out swinging.

The hangar gets tossed on to the couch. "Acting like an IDIOT!" Dahlia raked a hand through her hair with a noisy exhalation. Those burning green eyes focusing back up on him. "Does being captain not pay enough? Are you just a junkie? What good god damned reason could you possibly for stealing from Felix?!"

Silence from the man while Dahlia throws things and reams him out. There's a little twitch in his jaw when she hurls the word junkie at him, but otherwise his expression is cool and even-keeled. "Are you done?" is his low-voiced retort, after about a thirty second pause on the heels of her accusation that he stole from Felix.

"No. I'm not." She pokes him in the chest. "Tell me where it is. And don't fucking lie to me." The words hissed, staring right up at him. Even through the anger there's a hi t of worry. "I need to get it back." The edge still in her voice. "And I'd rather we not do this the hard way."

There's a little twitch of his upper lip when she jabs at him like that. Like he'd considered, just for a moment there, lunging for her. The call to violence is so strong in him, it often takes effort to keep it at bay. "I'm not fucking telling you where it is. And what the fuck do you mean, you need to get it back? How do you know Monaghan?" A pause, and then a slight, wolfish smile as he watches her eyes. "Do not try to threaten me, querido. It doesn't suit you."

The look in Dahlia's eyes fucking dares him to come at her. It wouldn't be the first time they traded blows. And Dahlia was never one to back down from a fight. "I work for him. How the hell else would I know him." She bartended at Firefly as her main job after all!

"And it's exactly what it sounds like. You don't just steal shut and get away with it. You of all people know that. So tell me." Clearly she's more worried about screwing up with Felix more than threatening Ruiz.

She might want to rethink those priorities, if she knew him a little better than she does. He gazes at her steadily, and something in his eyes hardens when she mentions working for the man. A flicker of anger, though oddly, it doesn't seem directed at Dahlia. "You work for him. So let me get this straight." He pushes off the wall, and moves in a little closer. Just barely breaching her personal space. "Felix fucking Monaghan wants his cocaine back. And sent you after me to get it." His tonguetip traces his lower lip slowly. "And you're going to roll over and do what he tells you, because you're afraid he'll snap your neck. Is that about right?"

Or she was just crazy. Both options were very possible. Dahlia tenses up when he gets closer. Inhaling slowly as she tried to decide how to answer. "No. I'm gonna do what he says because he's my boss. He might kill me one day. It won't be for not trying to get his coke back. You're lucky it was me who was asked." She pushed him back. Or tried to at least. "Or else you'd be in a worse off situation. At least I'm giving you a chance. Why won't you give it up? That fucking desperate for some extra cash?"

"Why did you let yourself get caught up in this shit, Dahlia?" He narrows his eyes at her slightly; a faint, almost feral curl to his upper lip as he regards her. "What the fuck were you thinking? I don't have the fucking cocaine. All right?" No, he does not move out of her personal space, or back down in the slightest. "So now I'm going to have to go and tell him that, because you couldn't keep your nose clean. Por el amor de Dios." He makes a little sound in his throat like a growl, and does pivot away from her to head for the door.

"I can do whatever the hell I want for whatever reasons. You don't get a say in that anymore." Dahlia snapped. Let him go. It's not HER fault that HE wanted to get caught up in shit. He had way more to lose. But those fucking feelings were getting in the way of her letting him go down in flames. God Damn it. She took the couple steps necessary to grab his arm and stop him. "No. No don't do that." She gave him a little tug. "Look, it's not expected to get done in a day. I'll take care of it. What did you do with it? Just. Tell me."

The touch to his arm results in a quick jerk of it away from her, the cop's body practically stiffening with repressed frustration. For all their bitter fighting, there are still so many unresolved feelings between them, and it's clear he's not immune to it either. "Don't fucking patronize me, Dahlia. You taking care of it is going to get you hurt. And believe it or not, that is the last thing I want. So back the fuck off. You're going to have to deal with sitting on your hands and wondering if you just fucked us both over." He takes a step backward, then reaches for the door, shoving it open with enough force to bang against the trailer's relatively flimsy wall.

Don't walk away. The thought screamed across Dahlia's mind as she watched him bang open the door. The whole trailer seemed to shake. All they did was walk away from each other instead of trying to resolve anything. But Dahlia was rooted in place. A mix of emotions twisting and churning. He might get a faint tingle, as if something had tried to brush against his mind. Maybe a tinge of desperation. But it was fleeting. Part of her wanted to try going after him again but. No. Fuck him. She could feel the tears of frustration threatening. She turns on her heels to go to the kitchen counter, bracing herself against it. Trying to collect herself and not let those stupid tears start falling.

He might have an inkling of it. That brush of her mind to his, that desperation given voice. There's a snarl as he pushes his way out, and his head whips around like he was struck, dark eyes cutting to Dahlia's brighter green and holding there for what seems an eternity. It almost seems he might change course in that moment. Turn back for her, and either lay her out or shove her up against the wall and take his frustration out in other ways. In the end though, he does none of these things. His boots hit the steps two at a time, and he prowls off for his truck with murder in his eyes.

Their eyes stay locked and her heart is racing. Scared, worried, something else maybe. Her grip on the counter tightens. But then he's turning away and the door swings shut. She waits until that truck is rumbling away before she reaches for her phone. Instead of giving Graham a heads up about Ruiz, she pulls up her text conversation with her new favorite drug. One day they would hash it out, however it turned out. But until then - well Dahlia was just fine with finding other outlets to vent her frustration.