Participants:
| Scene Title | Gun Oil and Chocolate |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's not the worst way to spend what might be your last birthday. |
| Date | October 31, 2011 |
The plans are finalized, the Alaska team leaves in just a couple days. Much as he might expect of her, now that there's a definitive plan to act on, Elisabeth's mood has lightened considerably. Could we all die? Sure. But at least we're doing something. And for heaven's sake, the woman is singing. Under her breath, but singing.
The canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see. Believe me…
It's in what passes for a living room that Cardinal's settled cross-legged on the floor, an AK-47 half-disassembled on the coffee table in front of him in a collection of Cold War era parts. A rag and oil are there as well, and he's probably leaving stains on the table, but that's probably not the worst this building has seen before. It's not exactly state of the art, but it'll work in the worst of environments.
Hearing the singing, he glances up with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "Someone's in a good mood."
It's not far to never-never land—
She's startled mid-lyric, not having realized that her internal music was actually coming out of her mouth. Carrying a small paper bag from a very well-known (and beloved by the blonde) pastry shop, she kind of blushes. "Yeah… I guess I am," she admits. "Or at least…" She considers. "Well, yeah. I suppose I am today. I got to see Dad this morning in the park."
She brings the bag and kneels down next to him. "Are you disassembling and oiling every weapon we own this week?" she asks, rather cheekily as she kisses his temple.
"Of course I am," Cardinal replies with a roll of his eyes, as if the very question were ridiculous; a tilt of his head, a smile as he looks up to her with a brow's lift, "How is Jared? I mean, given that he was handling the legal side of things, and with the investigation, and all…"
"He's… doing as well as he can be with his daughter a fugitive," Elisabeth admits on a sigh. "The situation with Redbird is obviously complicated, but they've been through all of his records and he's clean, so they're leaving him alone. After all, what daughter is going to tell her father the illegal shit she's been doing?" She shrugs.
Taking up a cross-legged seat right next to him, she opens up the pastry bag and wafts it under his nose. The scent of rich chocolate and icing is redolent, and she brings out one of those really decadent fudge brownies. The smile is bright as she offers, "Share it with me? Dad brought it with him when we met up."
"Good. Maybe we can even salvage the company, if everything really goes…" Then there's the scent of chocolate, and Cardinal leans in a bit, gaze hooding. "…mm. Sharing is caring, I believe they used to say in those afternoon-school specials…" He starts to lift a hand, pauses as he frowns at the grease and oil on his fingers. Hm.
Elisabeth laughs softly, breaking off a piece of the iced brownie and holding it to his lips so he doesn't have to touch it with gun-oil fingers. "It's not a birthday cake unless you can share it with someone," she points out easily. "And he sent some fresh stuff, so I can make dinner tonight for whoever's around." A flash of a shadow in her eyes. It might be the last good meal they all get, after all. "Vodka cream sauce," she teases with a grin.
Cardinal takes a hearty bite of the sinful chocolate, chewing contentedly — and then his chewing slows down, a wary sort of look entering his eyes as he looks up and over to her. "Birfdeh cak? Whoff birfdeh issit?" He's clearly concerned that he's forgotten something in the midst of all of the rest going on.
Elisabeth just laughs at him quietly, popping a small bite into her mouth to let it melt on her tongue. "That's why Dad called," she tells him, savoring the rich flavors of the brownie. "It's Halloween, babe." She's clearly not upset — after all, dates don't exactly have much meaning when you're on the run and planning for the end of the world. It only means something to parents. She breaks off another small bite. "Couldn't really come up with ice cream," she observes. "But… chocolate is good."
Cardinal's hand comes up, smacking palm against forehead. "Shit. I forgot. Six months — " Time travel doesn't help either when you're trying to remember what month things are. He looks back to her with a rueful expression, "Sorry, love."
Shaking her head, Elisabeth laughs. "Don't be. Hell, I forgot until I showed up to see him and he said it to me. But… chocolate!" She breaks off another piece and holds it out, then pulls it back to hold it hostage. "Besides… you already gave me a present. You came home," she tells him with a smile. Then she offers the bite again.
"Oh, now you're just getting mushy on me," Cardinal replies with a grin, leaning in for that piece — then pausing as she draws back — only to lean in and playfully bite for her hand. Not hard. But hey, she's asking for it.
"Bubble gum and roses," Liz reminds him on a laugh. She taunts in him with that bite of chocolate, and then pops it in her own mouth with an impish grin. "MMMmmmmm!" Cross-legged as she is, she can't exactly retreat if he decides to chase her, so she's already laughing around the bite, holding the rest of the brownie way back behind her. Dare ya!
"Withholding chocolate is a federal offense," Cardinal declares, twisting 'round from his own cross-legged posture, one leg shifting to get a foot under him - and he tackles her from that close position. Not that they have far to go.
Rolling tackle! Liz squeaks as they wind up in a tangled heap, one arm over her head — as if that is gonna keep chocolate out of his reach, ha! — and the other pinned against his chest as she fended him off. Or… didn't. Bright blue eyes hold laughter as she swallows the bite she had in her mouth quickly. "So what's my punishment, occifer? Am I gonna get 25 years in the slammer?" she teases.
Cardinal's hand grabs for her wrist, pinning that arm above her head, and he grins down to her from that dangerously close distance. "Oh, I don't know," he teases back, "What was it that you were going to give me when you arrested me that one time, Officer Harrison?"
"Uhm….. " Elisabeth's laugh is soft. "Well, if I'd been smart, a lap dance?" she ponders aloud with wide eyes. "Or maybe… oh, I know! I'd have tied you up!" She sagenods with a wicked grin. "Cuz you were really cute and very hot."
Cardinal's brows lift a bit, and he laughs. "Liar," he teases, leaning down until the tip of his nose bumps hers, "I doubt you even know how to give a lap dance."
"You," the blonde chuckles up at him in a husky murmur, "would be wrong." She waggles her brows. "Belly dancing and pole dancing are fantastic exercise, lover." The hand resting on his chest slides up and she runs her fingertips through the scruff on his jawline. "Just requires incentive. And privacy," she concedes on a chuckle. It's a commodity sorely lacking in communal living.
"I'm seeing a whole new side of you all of a sudden, lover…" A grin down to her, and then a sigh at her last words, his head turning to brush a kiss against her hand. "Mnm. Spoilsport, though," he says, releasing her wrist and shifting to ease back on his knees, "We need our own place."
"Mmmm, that would be nice, wouldn't it?" she agrees, her stomach muscles pulling her upright to sit there between his knees. She leans upward to kiss his jaw, the hand on his cheek lingering to stroke his cheek. "Guess that'll just have to be for when we get home again," she tells him with a sigh. "Silence bubbles and sleeping bags will have to suffice a while longer."
"And the shower," Cardinal adds to that, head tilting down to nuzzle his cheek back to hers, "Yeah. Hopefully, when all this is done… we can get a bit of a fucking break." A faint chuckle, "God knows we deserve it."
Oh, right…. the shower. Mention of that brings a rather sensual smile to her face, her cheek rubbing his. "Yes, you definitely make the shower a place worth spending time," she agrees mildly. Elisabeth tries to look innocent as she breaks off a piece of brownie to hold up to him — it's not working so well.
A smirk down to her, and Richard leans in to eat that bite of brownie. "You're not getting off that easy," he murmurs as he chews.
"Who, me?" she asks, blue eyes wide. But Liz smiles, and when she takes her fingers from his lips, she kisses him lightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
That kiss is returned, and Richard murmurs, "Yes you do. Also, happy fucking birthday, Elisabeth Harrison. May you have many — " Another kiss, soft to her lips, " — many more."