the tuesday following the party

[billboyd]

Finding out where "Uncle Ian" lives isn't a problem, of course. He checks Nic's file (Monaghan, Dominic) and commits the address to memory. It's not difficult; it's in the Hills, and is unnervingly close to one of Dominguez's abodes

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[kateinthecoat]

Kate's so caught up in this crackpot's theories about the connection between enamel and stained glass in medieval pilgrimage that it takes her a moment to realize someone's ringing the bell.

She uses a credit card offer (ACT NOW, urges the envelope) as a bookmark, pads on bare feet to the entryway, hopes it's not Dom, and opens the door.

[billboyd]

Right, who's this then, Bill thinks, and for two seconds, he really fucking doesn't know. He really doesn't, because this girl looks like maybe the younger, happier, prettier sister of the girl he had met at Johnny's party. This girl's eyes aren't brittle little chips of glass, they are gleaming and liquid (a brown almost as warm and soft as Orlando's eyes); her mouth isn't drawn into a thin, tense line, it is soft and slightly parted, the corners curled up just the tiniest bit, as though she is consciously considering a smile. The boy's clothes are gone, replaced by a white silk blouse, no frills but of decidedly feminine cut, and a white linen skirt. Bill can see her bare toes poking out from beneath it, where the hem nearly brushes the floor.

Bill blinks at her, and realizes he's been standing on the doorstep just looking her up and down for a good eight or ten seconds.

"Hello, Kate," he says. "You're looking well."

Which probably sounds a bit like a come on, but it's slightly better than, "Who are you, and what did you do

[kateinthecoat]

"And you're looking well fucked," she says with a smile. "Nice to see you, Bill."

And damned if it isn't. She tucks that thought away, but there's something about seeing a colleague that always gives her a sense of belonging.

And at least he's not going to try to tell her that Crusaders brought enamel back from the Holy Land as a basis for stained glass windows, when the Romans had colored glass a thousand years BC.

Then again, Bill is the long arm of the law, and she and Ian are not exactly saints.

"Dare I ask why you've come by?"

[billboyd]

And as weird as it is, he can feel his shoulders easing down, can feel the tension between his shoulders blades -- he always bloody knots there first, and unknots there last, and just lately it's so constant he almost doesn't notice it -- ease, and it occurs to him that he doesn't have anything to hide from Kate. Not really.

She already knows the one thing about him he'd have liked to have kept to himself, and there's no point in worrying overly about that now. It can't be undone -- which he'd already known -- and the only thing left is damage control. And it's different from the one other person in the world right now that he isn't lying to anything about. Kate is different than Orlando.

Kate is stronger.

"I'd venture to say I'm not the only one exploring the miraculous tension-relieving properties of carnal love, Miss Kate," he says, but he smiles when he says it, and she smiles back,faintly but not quite coyly. "And I came to see you."

Which doesn't answer the question at all, of course.

"May I come in?"

[kateinthecoat]

She brings the tea to the table, pushes the book out of the way with her knuckles, and sets down the two cups.

She feels his eyes follow her hands as she comes back to the counter for cream and sugar. She's pretty sure he doesn't take either, but manners are manners.

After she's taken her seat, she takes a moment to look through him. His eyes are a colour without hope.

"I hope one day you'll have to compromise the girl you love. I'd hate for you to miss out on how this feels."

[billboyd]

"I'm not asking you to compromise a damned thing, and you know it," he says, but gently. "I won't ask you a single question about your 'Uncle,' and I'm not here to look for clues about him." Although he'll take advantage of anything that he sees lying about that might help, because that's just what he does. But she knows that, there's no reason to say it. "I have no intention of using you to get to him or anything of the sort. He may have nothing whatsoever to do with what I'm doing, and if that's the case, he's perfectly safe from me." He shrugs with one shoulder as Kate pours the tea. "Just like you."

She gives him a long look, which he returns as candidly as he's capable of.

[kateinthecoat]

She's tempted to ask, 'What were you like as a child?'

But she knows exactly what he must have been like, so she blows on her tea and takes a sip and still her eyes don't leave his face.

She has no martyr complex, so his soothing words pass her like music from another room. Survival will dictate what has to happen. Survival always does.

Bill should have been Welsh. It would have made all the gruff consonants and constant checks on peripheral vision much more interesting. As it is he just reminds her of a Highland cow - shaggy and suspicious and always on the verge of breaking something.

He's aching to look elsewhere. God knows when a moth in the conservatory might pull a gun.

She takes another sip and counts his eyelashes.

[billboyd]

She says nothing, just looks at him over the rim of her tea cup. He isn't particularly interested in trying to stare her down, so he just lets her look, taking a drink of his own tea carefully.

It's good, proper English tea -- as he'd known it would be, coming from her, and he's willing to bet her 'Uncle' would make it just the same -- but he's so used to coffee now that it somehow doesn't satisfy. He drinks it anyhow, for the sake of politeness.

There's a book open on the table, something about stained glass, he sees with a bare glance, but it reminds him of the gown she'd restored, and since she clearly isn't going to facilitate any civil conversation -- a staple of any proper English Tea -- it's up to him to give it a go.

"I saw the work you did on Mary of Hapsburg's gown," he says simply, because it isn't like he has anything to use as a segue. "I'm obviously not an expert, but I did view both the before and after photographs, and it seemed like an amazing job to me."

So if you can do that, and if you love it-- and Bill

[kateinthecoat]

She doesn't need to say why she asked. Eventually, someday, Bill will come here and Ian will be home. End of story.

If they want to meet again, it will have to be neutral territory.

"We could always do something else," she offers, her voice neutral. "Stalk the undeserving. Find a restaurant that serves meat. Shoot squirrels in the park."

[billboyd]

He manages to dredge up a smile from somewhere.

"See, I was thinking something innocuous, like film noir or maybe roller skating."

[kateinthecoat]

"There is nothing innocuous about roller skating."

She smiles. "If you'd like to skate, of course, I'm more than willing to watch and comment on your form."

[billboyd]

"I'm not up to anything that includes you commenting on my form," he says, deadpan, and she smiles.

She's right though, if they're going to be... what? Friends? Comrades in secrets? Whatever. If they're going to do it, it can't be here. And currently, Bill is sans residence.

He wonders fleetingly if he should mention Kate to Keira, and pushes the through out of his mind. He'll think about it later.

He has no interest in Kate, not like that. Or minimal interest, anyway, she is a lovely girl. But he's more than satisfied with Keira's company, and has no interest in seeking out anything else romantically.

Kate is a different kind of company altogether.

"Maybe just coffee," he says thoughtfully. "Anywhere but Starbucks."