2022-05-09 - Doing Nothing Is Always An Option

An overweight man in a grey jacket is stepping in front of the podium at the front of the church, a little directing baton held firmly in one hand. He adjusts his glasses as he points to the hymn on the board over his shoulder. Hymn 300.

"I have a fam’ly here on earth.
They are so good to me."//

The voices of all the churchgoers unite as one. Salt Lake City, Utah. The Mormonism capital of the world. There is no struggle here to keep the congregation full. It's nearly a packed house. Seating is limited for any walk-ins.

"I want to share my life with them through all eternity."

The group of voices form a generic chorus sound. A hundred of Salt Lake Mormons, dressed in their Sundays finest. Pews full of a wide variety of white people. But hey, there's one person over there who is probably Latino. Nice.

"//Fam’lies can be together forever
Through Heav’nly Father’s plan.//"

Myles immediately gains attention when he steps into the assembly chamber. Wearing a lime green slightly rumpled shirt, a black tie, and black slacks, there is a moment given to staring down the entire congregation. Not looking necessarily menacing. Just meeting gazes that come their way. They quickly are diverted. Looking away.

//"I always want to be with my own family,
And the Lord has shown me how I can.
The Lord has shown me how I can."//

Myles' hand tightens around Nicasia's. He gives a little tug on her hand to lead her away from the door. Just as little miniature white shirt and tie boys go to secure all the doors to the main room. Thirteen year old boys gathering to preform the sacrament ritual. Myles is tugging her to one of the only places available. In the very back. They take a seat next to a couple with a few children who stare quite openly at Nicasia and Myles. They both are very much out of place.

Myles leans over to whisper to Nicasia. "They take around bread and water. You just eat it, and drink the little cup and throw it back in the thing." Beat. "Look for her frizzy little head." It shouldn't be very difficult, really. The chances of their being more than one mixed race little girls in the congregation are low.

Despite suggestions of fears to the contrary, Nicasia does not spontaneously combust upon entry, though there is clearly a startled doe-in-the-headlights moment when she realizes just how full the place is, which doubles down hard when the exits are secured by pint-sized guards in little missionary suits. A vast opening abyss of panic starts to open up, just a little. People are looking at them and it's all she can do to smile back, a tight little thing that maybe sells the image he'd suggested. Bless their hearts, they're trying so hard.

She is trying hard. She found a fairly modest, albeit layered, gauzy sort of sun dress - with sleeves! - printed with a bunch of giant sherbet-colored peonies or something, and made the extra effort to brush her hair nearer to straight. They don't match at all, but the hand-holding is a dead giveaway, right? So is the way he tugs her, which both tethers her and keeps her from bolting right back out the way she came.

Maybe she knows a hymn or two, but this one isn't anywhere in her mental catalogue and she can't even fake it. Just smiles. Even at the children, though the expression they get is marginally softer. They can't help themselves, right?

"You did a lot of homework," Nicasia points out. "How long have you been planning this?" A lot longer than the week or so she's been considering it, evidently.

And, "There are a lot of heads. They gonna take all these kids out for Sunday School?"

"I've already done this, a few times." Myles whispers back to her. "Once in Chicago. Once in Vegas." Beat. "Yeah there's a mormon church in Vegas. Did that one as practice. And once in this one." The building they're in right now. "I researched it. Yeah. Fuck yeah, I researched it." He whispers looking a little indignant. There's a little paper on their pew. A program. He holds it up to her. "See, we're towards the end. Some bitch is gonna--" The gentleman in front of them starts to turn marginally and Myles offers up a quick, but deeply apologetic smile.

He lowers his voice all the more. "Some bitch is gonna say some shit. Then all these fuckers split up. And the kids go to a room where they do more singin' and shit. When they break here. We just make our way to that room. Should be able to see her. Easy. If we can't find her before then."

Nicasia stares at him for a moment as he admits this. And then another moment, head tilting so that she can gawk, mouth slightly open... but then the man in front of them turns slightly and she straightens back up, mouth twisting into what is definitely not a smile. "I can't believe you didn't tell me. Fuck. Fourteen years and you didn't tell me." It's a pretty big secret to have sat on all that time, but now is not the time and this is definitely not the place.

"Alright," she says. "Fine." And, "At least they didn't make us sit up front." From here at least she can lean up marginally and look around, not moving her head more than an inch or so, and that, slowly, so she's less conspicuous about skimming the crowd. Finding people is what she does after all, and how hard can it be to locate one little girl in a crowd of seated people? Especially one that she very much wants to locate. Especially one that might glow, even a little bit.

"Why you doin' this now?" Myles rumbles low. "I already told you I did all this shit." He whispers, with a frown. "You woulda lost your shit if I ever told you." Would she?

When she starts looking he settles down, picking up the flimsy program. The little guards bring by the trays. Bread is passed by. Myles eats it without fanfare. He'll do the same when the water comes by. Eventually the bitch as Myles lovingly referred to starts to speak, some overly long message about the importance of family values bla bla bla...

Myles checks the time on his phone several times.

"Yes but maybe I would've lost my shit somewhere where there weren't going to be a hundred plus witnesses." Timing is everything. Location.

Nicasia is trying hard not to fidget. It's not really her thing, but the longer they sit here, the longer this goes on, the more likely it is that she's going to want to bolt and run. At least his previous research and experience mean she has some clue about what to do: mostly she mimics him, does exactly what he does, and then launches back into skimming the room. "I thought you said thirty minutes. Tops. Not three. Fucking. Hours." They haven't been here that long.

It's her twenty-third or so scan of the crowd before that familiar little double-take shows itself. The one where she's finally settled into the rhythm of scanning rows of heads, slowly sweeping from left to right like a reaper cutting wheat, when the left to right hitches and goes back left again. When she straightens up marginally, and finally hisses, "There. "

Of course it's the front row.

"Where?" Myles is grunting at what Nicasia instructs. His eyes darting forward. But now. It's just in time for this portion of the service to end. And the entire room erupts into a dull roar. People getting up, talking to each other. Making the transition to the next set of activities.

Myles looks over to Nicasia with a narrowed brow. "You got her? Did you see her?"

Nicasia doesn't really mean to elbow him in the ribs or tell him to shut up, it's just the reflex reaction, frustration finally mounting because just as soon as she thinks she saw what she saw then the room erupts into organized chaos and she hisses out what would've been profanity but gets sucked right back in with her breath again, like maybe she doesn't want to use that language right this second.

"Maybe," she decides, which isn't at all helpful, honestly, but. "She's all the way in front. We either gotta get out of here now, or we're going to be stuck here." The perils of being in the back means you either get out first, or you don't. Ever.

And Nic? She's in favor of going now and trying her luck from a different spot. Alternatively maybe she thinks she can see better standing up, nevermind that in doing so she's going to make herself a target for any of the nearby do-gooders to try and do her some good. "Where's this room gonna be?"

There's a quiet grunt when her elbow goes into his gut. Woof. She's jumping to her feet, and Myles gets to his feet. There's two doors on either side of the room. "Just get up and follow the kids." Myles grunts, still rubbing his stomach. There's a little nod and an apologetic smile given to the family that Myles practically stampedes past to get out into the running in the open aisle, he'll shoulder a little bit so Nicasia can get past and get out into the hallway.

They've likely lost all visual of the girl and her family at this point with all the people standing. But it's easy to locate the exit doors, the general ambling towards them making it abundantly clear.

Unfortunately, as Myles is pushing for the exit an elderly couple comes up to greet them, introducing themselves. Telling him how nice it is he decided to come--

Well. On one hand Nic blends in a lot better than Myles does. On the other, he's practically a sitting duck for all these nice people.

She does hesitate for a moment, watching this as it starts to unfold, but then she puts on her bestest smile and, "Excuse me I really need to go powder my nose," and then slides off like an eel into a reef. A little out of place, yes, but what's it he says? Look like you belong where you're going and nobody'll ask questions?

Technically she doesn't even have to make it to the Sunday School room: she just needs to get eyes on that one child, preferably without being spotted by her or her parents because there might be awkward questions that she is in no particular position to answer. She just kind of goes with the flow, keeping her back to a wall while she looks - again - for that wandering bit of light.

It should be enough, shouldn't it? If Nicasia weren't absolutely certain that glow were coming from her target she wouldn't be chasing it, right?

And yet there she goes, leaving Myles to fend for himself. The slow-moving minglers are easier to get through for one person, especially since she isn't stopping to talk. There's a bit of the old excuse me and pardon me and oh hi lovely to see you again I just need to as she tries to work her way down the corridor without elbowing anyone ELSE in the ribs.

Which really makes her look either more creepy or just straight up more lost, doesn't it?

But this is a bad situation.

Bad intel combined with a bad field of operation makes for a fail condition and while Nicasia doesn't actively run away, she does lock herself in the bathroom and fishes out her phone to text her partner:

Wrong part of the building dumbass

I'm about to cut bait and run there are too many people in here

(TXT to ) Myles : what?

(TXT to Nicasia) Myles : hold up im almost there

Well so much for that.

Nicasia is leaned up against the door typing out what amounts to an angry SOS when she's greeted, when she looks up, when she recognizes... well. There's exactly zero chance in all of the universe that she wouldn't recognize her own daughter. It's a good thing she was against the door or she might actually fall backward, but her recovery is. Well. It isn't smooth, but it isn't the same angry, blind panic she was spiraling into just a second ago.

"Um." The cleverest of the clever, is she. "...hi." She really ought not just stand there and stare, but that's what she does for maybe a little bit too long before she remembers to unlock the door. "Sorry. I was just... you glow." Three points for Team Obvious. There might be something else added, but she can't bring herself to say it. One of her hands lifts, like she might reach out and touch, but she catches that impulse at least and brings it, fingers curled into a fist, up toward her mouth.

(TXT to Nicasia) Myles : where are you

It's not like Nicasia is going to STOP her. No. She's just going to stand there like an absolute idiot for a minute.

Until the door shuts.

Until she can go scoop some cold water out of the faucet and splash her face with it, and hope against all hopes that nobody else comes in. By this point she's racked up several texts from Myles and now, at long last taps out another slightly less angry SOS.

(TXT to ) Nicasia : Heading for the car.

(TXT to Nicasia) Myles : nico. we can still find her

(TXT to Myles) Nicasia : I found her. We need to go. Now.

(TXT to Nicasia) Myles : coming

It's not but five minutes later that Myles is in the parking lot, moving rapidly towards the SUV. He's reaching up to loosen his tie and get it off. There's a shuffle at the back of the car as he tries to figure out what seat she's in.

Is it going to be more or less easy to get out into the parking lot? It's fighting against the current. Battling all of the curious church-goers who might be wondering why they aren't headed back to their seats. Why they are, in fact, moving toward the exit. Nicasia is kind of past the point of being polite, however. Not quite at a straight-out bolt, but definitely not sticking around for pleasantries or pastries.

She isn't that much ahead of Myles, though she has the advantage of not being quite so interesting to the locals: she's pretty conspicuous by the time he reaches the SUV, as she's settled into the passenger's seat, but unrolled all of the windows. Already the temperature is climbing, here, the sun getting high in the sky, but her discomfort is more than just a substantive lack of oxygen. As such, when Myles finally appears, she says, "So now what do we do?" There might be a critical lack of information here. But it might also be radiantly apparent.

Myles looks over at her. Frowning lightly. "You saw her?" Initially there's a little disappointment in his voice. Of course they were here to see if she shined but of course Myles sort of.. lives for these small moments. Every few years. But Nicasia got to see her. As if coaching himself and reminding himself to be happy for her he forces up a small smile. The car is started and soon he's pulling out.

Now what do we do

"We go to Smoke and Fire. We get a bunch of good shit to eat. You tell me everything about her. We take Lady for a walk. We fuck on Ava's stupid ass air mattress. And we figure it out."

Nicasia sinks deeper into the seat, like she's trying to merge with it. "She wasn't going where you said she should be; she's too old for that class or something. Way too old. I ran into her in the ladies' room checking her makeup." She's one part bemused by this, one part awed, one part horrified: clearly it was not the reunion moment she had built up in her head all of these years.

But there's a smile, finally. A little smile, very faint. A tiny bit sad but also with tremendous pride oozing through the many cracks. "She shines like a star, Myles. We have to figure it out."

Whatever it might be.

Myles furrows his brows at the new intel. Oh. That makes sense. "Fuck." He scowls deeply through the windshield as he gets them out of the parking lot. "Fuck. Nico. Sorry." He squints hard, frowning. It's one thing she can use to usually get him to shut up pretty consistently. Getting something on the job wrong. Not making a connection, not thinking a scenario the whole way through. Missing something. It has him distracted as she continues, "I didn't think about--Fuck. Yeah. Of course she wouldn't be with the little kids." He scowls. But the comment about makeup has him straightening up some, blinking.

"Makeup?" He practically scoffs, looking back to the road. "Fuck. She's a little lady. When do kids start dating now? Is that--" He cuts himself out. That's not important right now.

That smile. That little smile. It's mirrored on his features, but larger. "I'm glad you got to see her." He intones lowly. "She's beautiful, huh?"

Indeed that is why she was pissed at him during the first wave of texts, because it was wrong and on normal jobs, that level of wrong usually means it's time to, uh, bail. She's not anymore though; now Nicasia is distracted by this new twist to the problem, this eventuality they'd talked about but never really prepared for. Who could?

There is a quiet groan when he brings up dating and she reaches up to flip down the visor, like she's going to check her makeup in the mirror there. But she's not wearing any, not even her usual burgundy lipstick, on account of having decided that may've been inappropriate for the Mormons. "I was only a couple of years older when I met you. So let's not go there, okay?" Neither of them are anywhere near prepared for that. One thing at a time.

There's a quiet sigh to follow though. "She is. She really is. I wanted to..." Also not important right now. "She seemed really happy."

"Fine." He grunts. Not going there. His head is still going to go there. He just won't do it out loud.

There's a soft smile as they move down the road. She is. She really is. Seeming really happy, that pulls his lips down, however. Still a ghost of a smile as the SUV moves down the pavement. He's turning into a Starbucks and going to park. "I aint gonna wear this shit the whole drive home." Reaching back he grabs his backpack with a change of clothes. Before looking over at her dress. "You gonna change? I'll grab coffee."

"I'm sorry," comes the inevitable apology. "I would've told you, but..." They were in the ladies room. "I meant to get a picture of her." But again, the ladies room. "We could stick around for a bit. Try and catch them on the way out. Maybe they'll go to lunch or something."

For now, however, that brief encounter is Nicasia's to have and to hold and she trails off into silence for a time. At least until they get to the next parking lot, until Myles changes the subject. "I don't know. You look nice." It's not even a tease, and in fact she leans over to curl her fingers around the tie. There's a brief tug, more suggestive than effective, before she catches herself and lets it go, hand retracting. "Maybe I'll stay dressed up for dinner. These shoes have got to go, though."

The apology has him looking away, out the window. "It's fine. I've seen her before." He lets out a quiet grunt. "It's a creepy thing to do anyway... Sittin' around just to look at her." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "I'm just glad you got to." He murmurs in a low voice. Still looking out the window. "Yeah. Woulda been nice but.." He shrugs again. "We're probably gonna see her again soon. Once we figure out what to do."

She grabs his tie and that's enough to pull his attention from looking wistfully out the window. His eyes go over to her, slow. He wets his lips. Considering. He looks her over slowly, back up to her eyes. He doesn't make a decision. Not just yet, perhaps waiting for her to convince him further.

By the time his eyes begin that slide Nicasia has moved on to her next task. This one suggests she's extremely aware of his attention, but now she steadfastly ignores it in favor of pulling down the visor again. Can she watch his reflection? Absolutely. But now the show is her lipstick, the tube produced and opened, that deep almost-purple twisted up. She licks her lower lip ever so briefly before pursing both, a petulant expression uniquely suitable for the application of this color, slowly and methodically.

"You gonna try to turn me on in the middle of Salt Lake City at a Starbucks?" Myles asks lowly, looking up at the mirror. He's not saying it's not going to work. To be clear. He looks down at her lap, back up to the mirror. Back down to her lips. He purses his lips. Letting out a low grunt. But still he doesn't move, not just yet.

"You really want to pop that mattress?" The question is answered with a question , and with a little barb, just a little pinprick of bite, but it's playful more than mean. "We're divorced, remember?" Lipstick is kind of a pain. Unless it's blotted, it can get on one's teeth and there's nothing quite as ridiculous as having red spots on white enamel. Sometimes Nicasia blots, properly. Other times - like now - she uses a finger, sticking that into her mouth instead, lips making a very particular little O around it. Removing the finger from her mouth effectively ensures there's no danger of anything getting on her teeth.

But there's really no mistaking what else looks like.

There's an exaggerated roll of his eyes. We're divorced, remember? "God damn." Myles lets out, slumping back into his seat. Watching her get her lipstick right. He squints a little bit at her, staring over at her before his brows tighten into a scowl and he's grabbing that bag. "I'm changin'." He reasserts. He only had to sit here and think about it for a few minutes.

Then he's getting out of the car.

Later...

... it's almost too coincidental that they end up at the same table at Smoke & Fire. The same one they had that legendary argument at the very last time they were here. It apparently amuses Nicasia, obvious from the shape of her smile, but she doesn't actually come right out and say it. No, she's more interested in food - good food, not the mediocre stuff they've been getting up in Gray Harbor, not the greasy garbage that has sustained them on this quest - and maybe over-orders the loaded fries and pulled pork tacos and a margarita but they have nothing left to do tonight but eat, drink, and sleep.

And talk.

She's dumping the Jose sidecar into her glass when she finally, finally broaches the subject again. They've had hours to think about it, hours to talk around it, about everything but it, but this was the whole point. So.

"What are we going to do?"

Myles is finally more relaxed. Wearing shorts, flip flops. They had a little time to check in on Lady back at the condo, ran into Myles' very attractive neighbor, Summer, who Myles took his time small talking with while Nicasia waited. She could practically see his shit eating grin while he did so. His hoodie is unzipped as he takes another fry. Takes another drink.

He's well in to tipsy, now.

"I dunno." Myles rumbles. Taking another fry as he leans back in his chair, setting one hand on his stomach. "What feels right?"

Oh yes, she could see that shit eating grin and tried her very best to ignored it. Tried. But she does have a jealous streak that is sometimes exacerbated by his willful yanking on it and... well.

Dinner, hopefully, will be pleasant. Nicasia lifts one shoulder in the tiniest of shrugs. "I'm not sure. She seemed happy. Settled, you know? Not... like I remember being when I was her age. If that were all of it, we wouldn't even have to have this conversation. She could just... stay. In a couple of years she'll be an adult."

This is a totally different barrel of monkeys and just thinking about it makes her cringe, physically.

"You had a chip on your shoulder already." Myles rumbles in agreement. "You were grumpy around adults. You were happy with me." He murmurs lowly, looking over at her. "I was still smiley then." He grunts, pulling up one shoulder towards his ear.

She could just stay.

He looks over to her with a deep brown. "Four.. Five years." He looks down at the fries. "She could be frontin'." He rumbles low, over to Nicasia. "Maybe she's not--" He shrugs. Picking up his margarita.. How many is this? He takes a sip. Grunting lowly. "Does that feel right? Not doin' nothin'? What if she ever comes to Grey Harbor. What if she finds her way? What do we tell her when she comes to our doorstep. We knew and didn't do shit? I dunno."

"I was happy with you," Nicasia admits just as quietly. "You still smile, sometimes." Then, "I wonder if things would've been better if we hadn't... if Hank hadn't made your life so goddamned miserable."

She picks up a fry and runs it through the sauce, less to eat and more just to have something to look at, something to do. "She'd be almost done with high school. Looking at college. Her whole life ahead of her."

But he brings up Grey Harbor and her eyes close, the breath running out of her in a quiet sigh. "I don't think it matters. It sounds like Grey Harbor comes to you. The kid had a lot of problems with it. That shitty Dream we walked into with him? He gets those a lot. Goes there a lot. Whatever. Even without being there. Just because we didn't have it so bad doesn't mean she won't. But," she asks again, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "What are we gonna do? Find a glow in the dark social worker?"

He frowns over at what she almost says. Looks back down to his fries. "We had two old men conspiring against us." Myles rumbles, picking up another, running it through the sauce. "Fuck these are so good."

He looks down. Almost done with high school. Looking at college. Whole life ahead of her.

Myles slowly looks back up to her. Takes another sip of the margarita, his head slowly lulling back. "You gonna make me suggest the other option first? So you can yell at me for it, because it's such a bad idea?" He grunts, fingers tapping against the table. "There's another option, besides finding a shiny social worker."

Nicasia shakes her head. "We did, but that doesn't excuse it. Things could've been different. If..." Is she really going to dwell on the alternative to the last umpteen years? The road not taken, wherein they didn't end up together and apart and together again? No. She's going to drink instead.

"I'm not gonna yell at you," she promises. "Not this time. This is too important to fuck up." She licks a bit of salt off the rim of her glass to chase down the tequila and offers the clarifier. "Which option? The one where we go back to Salt Lake and introduce ourselves?" At least she isn't going to yell until she's real sure what the terms of the argument are going to be.

Myles just splays his hands out. She said it, not him. "I mean. We don't have to do it in a stupid ass way. We could..." What would the not stupid ass way be? He sips on his margarita more.

"We find someone who shines. Who we can trust. Or direct intervention. Right? That's all we got? Doin' nothin.. That aint an option. Yeah?"

"We find someone? We gonna spend six months in Salt Lake trying to find someone we can trust?" There's a particular sort of incredulity reserved for ideas like this: Nic doesn't have to yell when just saying a thing calls attention to the impracticality or the improbability. "Yes I know Ava said she could find someone but I barely trust her."

Rather than answering the do-nothing option, she lifts the little shot glass that came with her margarita, the one with the extra tequila in it, and holds it upside down on her tongue. There's not enough left in it to drip more than a few drops and that is just not going to cut it, now, is it. Finally she says, "It's a shitty set of options."

"She couldn't find someone." Myles rumbles with a shake of his head. "She wasn't thinkin' about her answer. She was too busy tryna not piss one or both of us off." He quiets for a few moments.

"We both know what I want. I'm willin' to admit I'm gonna be pretty fuckin' biased on this one. So I dunno. You know what I'm gonna argue for. You know what I'm gonna try to justify. Maybe my take isn't reliable on this one. No matter how hard I fuckin' try I can't see it any other way." He shrugs his broad shoulders.

More fries. They are delicious. Good enough that Nicasia might have to figure out how to make them, or something like them. She picks one up now and gestures at him with it, a little stabbing motion. "Okay."

It's not acquiescence. "Okay, let's run that. What do you want? No arguments, no justifications. Just.. put it on the table and let's see what it looks like. I know your take isn't real reliable, but neither is mine. But there isn't another take to get that isn't... going to tell us something we don't like. No matter what it is the say, one or both of us isn't gonna like it."

Okay. Let's run that.

"We work her like a case." Myles starts. "Find an access point into her life. Something we could meet her in that wouldn't be creepy. Would be socially acceptable. We build up a rapport and.." Beat. "We tell her the truth. We involve her in the decision making process. If she wants us to befriend her parents. We do that. We find an access to them. She has our numbers. We're her support in case something weird as fuck happens. She can talk to us, if she needs. We disrupt her life as little as possible while opening ourselves up as options of support."

"We don't offer her to come live with us or run away or any shit like that. We tell her the truth and we tell her we want to help her. If she wants it."

He looks away. Eating a fry.

As ever Nicasia is right there with a response to this, before he's even really finished talking. But she bites it all back, physically biting her lip, and also looks away. In the other direction.

It's a few seconds before she says, "Okay. And how are we gonna do that? Again, she's in Salt Lake, we're in Grey Harbor. Unless you plan to commute." Again. "I don't know, Myles. It seems... kind of shady. Her decision-making capabilities are questionable at best. How much do you think it's going to disrupt her life if we show up and come clean about who we are? If she even believes that we're not creepy freaks of some variety, even."

"How do we do anything? We work the case. We find the mark and access their life. The mark plays ball at the park every Thursday night. The mark's brother owns a coffee house. The mark hasn't made their last few payments on their Hyundai. We find a way in. Like we always do. Maybe she travels for ballet recitals or some shit. Maybe she plays a sport. Maybe--" He shrugs. "We won't know until we look. We find all our cards and if any of em are worth playin'."

Kind of shady. He looks up at her slowly. "Woman. Was that you I was with when I broke into a little old lady's house the other day?" Beat. "We are shady." He lets out a breath. "I don't know if there's a way to do this without bein a little bit shady. The other option is do nothing."

The only part of that she can address initially is the bit about how they are shady, and her sole defense to that is a middle-fingered salute.

Otherwise, Nicasia's silence is awfully telling. Like she's searching for a way to shut that down, to turn it off at the source, to come up with any reason at all why this isn't going to work or they shouldn't do it or... anything. At all. It's in the way her gaze drifts, sliding over the things on the table. The mostly-finished fries. The half-empty margarita glasses. Crumpled napkins. The floor. The wall. A window. The door. The ceiling. Searching, skimming, hunting, for something that doesn't exist. It can't be much of a surprise when she finally lets out another soft sigh.

"We could do nothing." It is an option, technically. "But I don't think either of us can live with it."

Myles looks down at the table. The second statement he nods, more sure of that. They can't live with that.

He lets out a low grunt before looking back up to her. "So. What?"

So what indeed.

Nicasia's sigh is almost defeated. Almost. "So we work the case. And if something comes up, we adapt. Maybe nothing will; maybe we won't have to do anything at all and she can just get on with her life."

This answer seems to satisfy him. Satisfied so much so that one finger slides around the carton of fries to gather up some extra sauce, before he licks it from his finger. He leans back, taking his margarita glass up and finishing it off.

"Fuck these are good. Should we get another order for breakfast?"

He looks out at the window then. "We could walk the strip tonight. Haven't done that in a long ass time."

"Worth coming all the way to Vegas for," Nic agrees. The other subject is left alone for now; now there's just work to be done, familiar with a twist. She eyes the mostly empty fry container and then glances toward the kitchen. "Yeah. If they'll wrap it in foil. These are good unless they're cold and then they're awful." There's a tiny twist of the corner of her mouth, a flicker of sharp amusement.

Then comes that other offer and she has to consider it. Or does, anyway, for longer maybe than he might like. Partially because she's considering him more than the glitter of lights visible beyond the glass. The question, when it comes, is a little more serious. A little more wary. But only a little; her drink is settling and the powder hasn't been piled high yet. "You gonna try and talk me into moving back in again?"

His glass is set down before his eyes flick up, shoulders shaking in a silent shudder of soundless laughter. "Do I always do that on the strip?" He asks in a low but amused rumble, eyes slowly drifting to find hers as he shifts back in his seat, relaxing more fully.

There's that curl of amusement again, bright and sharp. "Wasn't but three blocks away from here that you suckered me into this Safe Harbor thing," she points out. "And look where that's gotten us."

It's alright. He sinks down in his seat and she slides a foot forward, running the toe of one shoe up the back of his bare calf. He may've gone for shorts and flipflops, but she's still in that dress she wore to church. Even put the shoes back on, which makes them sort've mismatched. More mismatched. Whatever. "Might be nice to go watch the fountains. I can't remember the last time we were down here and it wasn't work."

There's a small burst of a laugh, Myles shaking his head ruefully. He leans in as her shoe goes up his calf. "Do you really want to pop the air mattress?" It's delivered in a falsetto. A poor imitation of Nicasia. He rolls his eyes dramatically. "But then you tryna get with me all god damn day. I see you." He waves his hand dismissively.

"Can you drive? I wanna check on Lady before we go down there." Beat. "Or I guess.. I could call Summer, and see if she wouldn't mind checking?" His lips slowly twist up as he starts reaching for his pocket.

"Yeah and who was it who added fucking on the mattress to our agenda this morning?" Nicasia rolls her eyes right back, but also retracts, getting to her feet. A little too quickly, perhaps; she wavers there for a moment while he's asking if she can drive and then offering to call the neighbor and that wins him a little snort. "Yeah, you call her. See if I don't leave your ass in your condo and drive back myself."

She rounds up her jacket though, and meanders through the pockets until she finds her keys. "Should be fine. If I get stopped I'll just explain that you're my ex-husband and are driving me into the desert in the morning and oh by the way there's that shovel in the back." Keep tugging on the jealousy chain. Then, "You really planning to keep me out late?"

"I was kidding." Myles is left grinning though. Really. At all of it. There isn't a single part of what she does that doesn't delight him. Her threats. Her joke. More threats.

Cash is laid out on the table before he's pushing up and following after her, towards the exit. His smile is broad and amused. One hand comes up to settle on her waist, pulling her in close as they amble out the door, the look he casts down at her downright affectionate. But. He can't help it.

He. Has. To.

"Did she change her hair?" Beat. "Looks good."

It is a far better rendition of events than their last trip through these doors, anyway.

Nicasia gets pulled against him and rolls her eyes again but doesn't actually pull away. Instead she shifts against him, a little roll of her hips that will put her in front of him once they're safely out of the entryway, less likely to be tripped over by other stray patrons, turned about so that she can set her hand flat on his chest. "I know you're trying to rile me up. Hoping I get good and jealous enough to remind you of why you can't be quit of me." She looks up at him, mouth slightly pursed in that petulant manner that isn't actually angry. "But really, keep digging. Maybe I'll kick your ass out and you'll have a real excuse to go over there tonight."

His lips curl up slowly, his other hand going to her waist. Pulling her in against him as they get out into the parking lot. "Rile you up?" He questions. What? Him? He's pretty good at playing dumb even when it's so blatantly obvious. But then she threatens to kick him out, his lips curling up a little more. She sets them up, he'll knock them down.

"That's alright. She's always been so comfortin' to me after you and I have trouble." His lips curl up into his own petulant and mischievous grin. Despite actively talking about potentially hooking up with a different woman, his hands are all over her, exploring, pulling her close. "Not for nothin' but did you happen to bring those ear plugs?" Beat. "No reason."

It is a peculiar backward dance, but at least it proves she probably isn't too drunk to drive.

Not too drunk for some other things, either; the hand on his chest curls, fingers taking hold of his shirt until she's got a solid grip on it. It's vaguely reminiscent of her pulling on that tie earlier, but here she has a good handful of it, like she's going to pull him along to wherever they're going. Her other hand slides the other way, a pair of fingers sliding along like she's reaching for his phone. "How about I just text her for you now, ask her to come pick you up. Take you home. Give you some of that comfort you seem to be missing out on."

"I'll take myself down to the strip." No that is definitely not the phone that her fingers curl around through the fabric of his shorts, but they're close enough that it's likely an accident. Surely. "See if I can land a big. Fat. Whale."

They're stumbling and dancing through the parking lot until Nicasia abruptly finds her back hitting against the passenger side door of the SUV. Her hand going for his 'phone'. His lips curl up and if he's afraid he's going to text Summer, he makes no show of it. "Alright." He rumbles down to her. "Just put an exclamation point." Beat. "She knows what that means." He rumbles low down to her, still his lips split into a shit eating grin.

"Mm. Yeah?" He groans as she fishes for his phone. "I'm sure you'll find what you want, Nico. Not like you would just spend hours out there treadin' water among the minnows. Right?" There's a slow single undulation against her and the door of the car, one hand resting on top of the door frame.

"Or maybe..." He starts. "We've seen the fountains a shit load of times. We could go pop a mattress instead." He slowly cranes his neck down to press his lips gently against her cheek. "And if we do, we could always ask if we could use Summer's." Even at this proximity his mild amusement can practically be felt against her cheek.

"Oooh. Just an exclamation point. Aren't you clever. Is that because it's the only thing she could think of when she saw you naked, or because you've totally short-handed your booty calls to the point where you no longer have to talk to them?" She's fishing, alright. Trapped against the door, but he's trapped for the same reason, caught by the fabric. "Although you did a hell of a lot of talking to her back at the condo. Hmmmmm." The thoughtful sound turns into more of a breathy exhale as he rocks against her, sharpens up when she lifts her chin so that her mouth is closer to his ear.

"I always find what I want, Myles. The problem is and always has been keeping it." For a moment this is almost too serious. A mood cycling, shifting toward the bitterness that might - yet again - turn a pleasant night sour.

Then he has to go and invoke Summer and it melts with a short, sharp little laugh. "You are such an asshole." Her head tilts then, closing the little distance until it's her mouth against the corner of his. Not quite a kiss. Not quite anything, though she leans then into him, into this, soaking up as much of it as she can for as long as it's going to last. Which is exactly until, "I wouldn't sleep on anything she has without scrubbing it with Clorox and covering it with a pair of shower curtains first. Do we need to hit Walmart?"

Myles lips slowly crawl up into a wide grin. "Does it have to be one or the other?" She both melts into him and bristles simultaneously. His lips close around her ear briefly. Then she makes that next comment. Bordering on being too real. His brows slowly knit, though he certainly feels like he can disarm that temporary barb by just-- doubling down.

He's such an asshole. That has him smiling broadly. Proudly. The not quite kiss is pressed back into hers. Lowering his lips to actually steal a kiss. Though that last bit has him laughing quietly against her lips. "Damn girl, you're so mean." Though it doesn't sound like a negative thing, really.

"I happen to know. Just from bein' neighbors. You know. That she is into some freaky shit." Myles rumbles into her ear, lowly. His lips teasing at the shell of her ear. "Bet you we could take her bed. Make her watch." He pronounces the words slowly, lips brushing against her ear feather light as he does, all the while pressing up a little more firmly up against her and into the car.

It is rarely one or the other, almost always a combination of both: oil and water, hot and cold, silk and razor blades. Like that melting and bristling, the way her fingernails chase her fingertips, a threat of sharpness behind the gentleness. Except she isn't exactly gentle either, not with the rock of her hips, not with the rove of that hand which has definitely not found his phone trapped between them.

"You just so happen to know, huh," she hisses back. "Convenient. Was that how you made it the last couple of months? Pants around your ankles, ear against the wall, listening to her freaky shit?" She is mean. She doesn't even dislike Summer, mostly, would probably have been okay with letting her check on the dog, but this. "Make her watch? You mean give her lessons? Nah, you want her to learn something, that's on you. I don't have time for that." Her words pour into his ear, the distance almost matched by the way his lips brush against hers, sending little shivers cascading down her skin.

It's those shivers that translate directly into the way her hand moves, following the roll of her hips, up and down as if she's trying to ensure she has room between him and the door. The hand that has his shirt keeps it. Doubles down, even, pulling it even tighter.

There's a low, dry laugh in response. "Mm." He growls back down at her. "Yeah. Listening." His lips have him split into a wide grin as he looks down on her. "Sure." He lets out another low laugh as his lips press against hers once more, dark eyes practically blazing with flame once he pulls back.

Her hands pull down on his shirt, only increasing his low growl. He stares down at her, inching forward, just a touch more. His lips move back to her ear, again. "Get the fuck in the car, Nico. Now." A moment later, he's heading to the drivers seat in a hurry assuming she let go of him.

There's a particular look of intense satisfaction that flashes across Nicasia's features, sparked by the fire in his eyes and turned incandescent. It is a game of really twisted sexual chicken and she just won.

Or something.

He growls and she laughs and lets go - of course she will - before turning to slide herself into the passenger's seat. To buckle up, and then to wait, that look still evident like she may be planning to make the ride home difficult as well.