He Has Her Number


dante_icon.gif elisabeth2_icon.gif

Scene Title He Has Her Number
Synopsis Perhaps in more ways than one?
Date July 21, 2010

Biddy Flannigan's Irish Pub

It's late in the afternoon — a little early for happy hour, but not too terribly much so. The blonde sitting at the bar with one foot propped on the floor in a high-heeled boot and the other propped on the crosspiece of the barstool she sits on has a frosted mug of beer sitting in front of her along with a basket of what looks like a half-eaten order of cheese fries. She's chatting with the bartender, but not in the manner of a woman being chatted up. It looks more like casual conversation. When he wanders off to help a guy sitting at the far end of the bar, Elisabeth picks up her mug to take a swallow from it and her blue eyes skim mirror behind the bar, instinctively taking note of whatever has changed behind her since she last looked, cataloging people and their positions.

Hallelujah and praise Jebus! Dante's actually able to get off of work /early/ today! Rushing to finish one huge case file means a brief respite, and the lone Company Agent is looking to celebrate. And what better place to do that than a pub just before happy hour?

Shouldering his way in through the door, the man with the strong face, close-cropped dark hair, and casual-cut blue suit under his trenchcoat looks nothing out of the ordinary, except perhaps for the weariness he carries in his shoulders after several long days of overtime. Once he's in the door, however, his eyes flick up towards the mirror, frowning like he'd just heard someone call his name. It takes only a moment for his eyes to find Elisabeth and the weary expression on his face falls away for surprise. He pauses for a moment…and then approaches the girl at the bar, that rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Elisabeth?"

The new man coming in the door to the bar garners just enough interest from the blond for her eyes to pause on him in the mirror. But it isn't until he speaks her name that the blonde turns around, quirking a brow questioningly. It takes her just a moment too long, as if she's searching her head for a name, and then her expression eases into a grin. "Weeeellllll, shit. Lupinetti. What rock did you climb out from under?" she asks in amusement. She gestures to the stool next to her. "Take a load off."

When Dante gets within speaking range, his smile has settled down into a polite curve under his nose. His hands don't come out of his pockets and he sidles right up to the bar, leaning a hip against it and looking down at his old acquaintance. "Better a rock than a spotlight. I've seen you in the news, Harrison. Been keeping busy?" Glancing up as the bartender comes over, Dante pulls one of his dark hands out of his pocket, holding up two fingers, which sends the bartender on his way with a nod. He doesn't take a seat just yet.

Elisabeth shrugs idly, but the expression that crosses her face is one of disgust. "Yeah. The news." The derogatory tone should tell him all he needs to know about her opinion of that situation…. and maybe all he needs to know about the status of the op that went with the news announcement. "Yeah, pretty busy. Clearing the south end of Staten Island with the PD lately. What about you?" She tilts her head at him, her fingers lightly playing with the condensation on her mug. "Heard you left the PD for Feddie land. Traitor and stuff." She's teasing… mostly. It's the usual "local cops" vs "Homeland Security's a buncha assholes" kind of rivalry.

"It's a little more complicated than that, but sure. A traitor. Next thing you know, I'll be stepping on your toes, usurping your investigations, and hogging all the donuts." Dante's eyes narrow briefly at that look of disgust, looking Elisabeth over before he /finally/ decides to take a seat, leaning an elbow on the bar. "You're not exactly sticking with grunt work either, though, are you? What's new in your life right now?"

Liz laughs. "I have a feeling that, unlike my last DHS partner, you and I might have been able to get along a little better," she comments. "And I'll gladly give you my share of the donuts." She pulls her other foot up so that both of her feet are propped on the crosspiece of her seat, settling in more comfortably. Her elbows remain on the bar, but she lifts the beer to her lips before answering. There's been a lot that's happened since she last ran across him, and Elisabeth finally says quietly, "Not sure you'd believe me if I told you, man." She shakes her head and admits, "Since you saw the news, you know I got tapped for FRONTLINE. Got fed some line about finesse with my abilities and urban warfare experience." There's a bit of a shake of her head; she's still surprised that Frontline seems to suit her.

"Perhaps. You did good work." Coming from Dante, that's a high compliment. "But the real question is, would you and Isabella be able to get along?" Ah yes, Dante's connected-at-the-hip psychotic "little sister" who he dragged along to the NYPD when he transferred. At her quiet remark, he turns towards the bar, reaching for his wallet, which gives him an excuse to lean towards her and return in a quiet tone, "Try me." And just in time for him to pull his wallet out, the bartender appears with his two drinks, which Dante pays for with a fiver tossed out to the bartender. "Are you doing good work there?" he asks, cracking open one of the beers and taking a drink, eyes sweeping the mirror over the bar like she was so briefly before. From the side, his profile reminds Elizabeth of a hawk more than ever.

Resting the mug on the bar while the bartender drops off Dante's drinks, Elisabeth tilts her head, considering the answer. "Yeah," she answers with a quiet conviction that comes of being sure you're doing the Right Things. "Yeah, Dante, I'm doing good work there." Saving the world is Good Work <tm>. She doesn't elaborate on it, but the faint smile that quirks the corner of her lips as she scans the mirror absently once more speaks of weariness and some level of contentment. Putting bullets in Humanis First members makes her happy, yessiree. "How is Isabella?" she asks mildly, lifting the glass for another sip as her eyes cut sideways to him once more.

Dante glances sideways at the note of that conviction, eyes drawn to Elisabeth's for just a moment. Approval? Disapproval? It's hard to tell on him. "Not the kind of good I meant, but that's true too." And then he's back to the mirror, taking a long drink from his beer. "Mmmm… she's good. Having trouble adjusting, but otherwise the same as usual." That's an understatement, certainly, considering Isabella had Manifested just recently. But that's not a conversation for public. "And how about you? Are you still with…what's his name? Chad?"

There was a snort at the name tossed out there. God… now there's a guy Elisabeth hasn't thought of in years. "Hell no," she replies succinctly. And good riddance too. She grins cheekily. "Soon as he said he wanted me off the squad, he was gone faster'n you could say 'Sayonara,'" she retorts. "I didn't have an interest in hell in being a cop's housefrau. What about you? Dating? Married?" Probably not, given his sister's presence in his life, but you never know — many women are far more saintly than Elisabeth Harrison.

"No? You seemed so enamored with him," Dante teases, though a stranger wouldn't be able to catch it, with his deadpan delivery. He turns the bottle slowly by its neck, the glass rumbling smoothly over the polished wood. He shakes his head at her question. "Nope, still single." Not only Isabella, but he also was always married to his work. There aren't many women who will stand for being second best in a man's life. Dante shoots a sideways look at Elisabeth. Eyes narrowing for a moment. "You're single, too, I take it?"

"Marriage is an archaic institution," Elisabeth replies mildly. "So yes, still single. Married to the job, I guess." She lifts a finger to the bartender to get his attention for a refill of her mug. "Too much to do, not enough time to be bothered cultivating too many relationships, I suppose," she comments. Which is entirely the truth, though perhaps not all of it. "Been working any fun cases lately, or is it all hush-hush, gotta-shoot-you-if-I-tell-you shit?" she asks with a bit of a grin at him.

Dante's eyes crinkle briefly in amusement at Elisabeth's remark, and he shrugs briefly at her point. No rebuttal from him. "Amen, sister," he mutters into his beer, finishing off his beer and going for the second. He smirks quietly at her last question, hefting his beer and turning towards Elisabeth. He seems to be thinking hard for a moment. Then, there's a glance towards the door, and one to the bartender, waiting until he's out of earshot before he leans in and murmurs, "Can you keep a secret?"

Sincerely doubting he's going to tell her a secret of truly terrible import, Elisabeth tips her head at him and turns to face him. Her eyes are cautious but curious, and though her tone is light she is in no way kidding. "If you need me to," she replies easily.

Dante's deadly serious expression gives away nothing. Cool, hazel eyes lock on hers and he sets his angled jaw, looking intense. Like the calm before the storm… "Good. No, nothing really." Turning back to the bar, he takes another drink of his beer.

Raising a brow, Elisabeth simply shakes her head. "I always hated it when you went cryptic," she comments mildly. Another frosted mug appears in front of her and the bartender swoops her mostly empty one away. "Has having a new boss altered anything for you?" she queries. Because after all, the head of Homeland Security just got his butt assassinated, along with Liz's own boss's boss. "We've been wound up in red tape ever since the bombing," she comments.

"I know." Dante always did enjoy being a bit of an asshole from time to time. At the mention of him getting a new boss, the man gives Elisabeth a briefly baffled look. …and then he blinks. "Oh, I've been transferred to another task force lately, so it's all just felt like a new job anyways. Are you still in the same line of work?"

A new task force, hmm? She slants him an opaque glance in the mirror, debating on whether that's likely to mean Company or if he's serious about the whole 'task force' thing — and definitely not planning on asking. She knows a good bit more than she'll speak of. Liz shrugs slightly. "Well… Frontline's a lot less investigating and a lot more kicking in doors, that's for sure." She grins. "But it's a helluva lot better than being a beat cop." She pauses and sips from the cold beer in front of her before admitting, "I miss the PD. I'd just made detective when I got tagged for this duty." Which is the truth, as far as it goes. "It's not so different from SCOUT, though, so the transition hasn't been too bad. Aside from the body armor. Damn that stuff's heavy."

Dante quirks a small smile. "Well, you've always had a mean kick, Elisabeth. Sounds like the perfect job for you." As she goes on, he goes back to a frown. "Let me guess, going back to being a detective isn't an option right now?"

Liz's expression is a very fleeting one of regret tempered by acceptance. "No," she replies mildly. "I burned a few bridges in leaving." She sips her beer, idly propping her chin on her hand when the glass goes back to the bar. "It's good, though — the career move is a bit lateral, but eh." She grins slightly. "So what brought you to this part of town?"

Dante's frown deepens, shaking his head slowly at Elisabeth's remarks. The bartender comes by and Dante stops him with a raise of his hand. "I'll pay for her tab," he says plainly. And there goes his second beer. He'll need a third soon. "Mmmm…just finished a big case, was in the neighborhood, and I decided I really needed a drink. Not my usual stomping grounds, but the place is nice." And he approves highly of the mirror behind the bar. Lets you watch all the exits. "You live around here?"

Her brows rise up, and Liz turns to look at him thoughtfully. "Well… thank you," she says mildly. It was neither expected nor even anticipated that he would do so; she doesn't treat it as her due but she also doesn't protest the move. "I have an apartment in Dorchester Towers," she responds around a sip, "but lately I've been on the Frontline base more often than not."

Dante doesn't seem to be making a big deal of it, anyways. Just something he felt like doing, that's all. The two of them chat for a while longer, getting into more mundane things like what TV shows are on, what they think about the World Cup and Vuvuzelas (Dante is for the death penalty). Beers get downed, and they part with at least Dante being pretty well trashed when he's taking a cab home, an easy smile on his face. He has her number now, and they each have made promises to keep in touch.

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