musesandlyrics | 1.2. Eve Sawyer quote
1.2. "Never underestimate the power of passion."
Eve Sawyer
Co-written with doesntwaltz [Follows THIS, THIS and THIS]
The jury was still out on whether Rob liked New York or not. It seemed everyone he actually met who was in New York, or knew New York wanted to point him in the direction of a bar. He had names of bars coming out his butt by this point, and a strange urge to eat a pretzel. As it was, he spent the day wandering aimlessly around the shops and not buying a single thing. It wasn't that he didn't have money, because he did. He had high plans to try and plump out his inventory a little and just buy something that didn't fit in his bag, but he really must just be someone who didn't need much. He couldn't see a single thing he actually wanted to buy himself. Saw lots of things he might buy a girlfriend... if he had one, which he didn't. No wife, no girlfriend, just an enthusiastic right hand.
By the time he was done with the 'shopping', he really did need a drink. Especially after it took him nearly half an hour to get into a cab after maybe a little too politely offering it to a string of people before him who looked like they needed it more than he did. Of all the bars, though, The Bondi had stuck the most. Maybe it was the Aussie reference and the fact Rob did know some Aussies from Iraq, but he just figured what the hell. He pushed into the crowded bar and looked around, feeling immediately out of place. Everyone looked so... New Yorkish. He was standing there in his jeans and a neat blue button-up, wondering if he had a flashing sign above his head screaming 'FOREIGNER!'. Plus, he didn't have one musical bone in his body and this place seemed to thrive on music. Indeed, the band up on stage was rocking the place.
He pulled his lips to the side and wove his way up to the bar, hanging off to the side to wait his turn to be served. If this didn't work out, he could always go to the Irish pub he passed a few blocks back. At least he knew how to drink a pint of Guinness with style.
Leila was working a few shifts at The Bondi while she stayed in New York. If she was going to be behind any bar, it would be his cousin's. He'd gone back to Princeton for the night to be with his wife, and trusted Leila not to break the place. His 2IC was still around to run the joint, but Leila wasn't a stranger to bars. She'd worked in them on and off to subsidise her photography when funds got a little low, plus it helped pay rent. Her blond hair was done up in loose dreads, a few locks pinned back to keep them off her face. Her eyes had been irritating her all day, so she was actually wearing her glasses. They were a black framed pair she'd had since high school, the rectangular frames still in style thanks to the fashion world's apparent obsession with nerds.
She moved up the bar to serve the guy in the neat blue button-up, smiling as she looked him up and down. She felt a strange urge to reach out and unbutton his shirt a little, or roll up the sleeves. She'd been a lot more relaxed since taking a tumble with Flynn. "What can I get you?"
Rob was already rethinking his decision to come here. The place was absolutely pounding, and although the music was good, it was kind of intense after battling the hectic city most of the day. To think he actually found it more difficult to swallow than gunshots and grenade explosions from the army. When the voice addressed him, he turned back to the bar from where he had been looking over the scene on the stage and everyone dancing in front of it. "Um," he began stupidly, quickly looking over the spirits lining the back of the bar. Should he order something to suit the scene or go with the old faithful? He floundered a little when his blue eyes landed on her face. "Just a, uh..." he waved his hand a little at the bottles, "Scotch and Coke, please?"
Leila watched him intently, instantly forgetting all the other customers. She wasn't the only bartender working tonight, so let them deal with the rabble. Her blue eyes searched his face from behind her glasses as she sucked on her bottom lip. "Sure. You okay, mate? Not going to pass out on me, are you?" She glanced away briefly, thinking something over. "You need a break from the crowd?"
Rob smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm fine, ma'am, really. I think I've just had too much pollution today, or something. Not to mention it's been some time since I was in a place like this. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here and I apologise for coming across as kinda thick. It ain't like that, I promise," he assured her, not exactly even sure why he felt the need to clarify to the bartender. It was just the way she was looking at him. He took his wallet out and handed over some cash sheepishly.
Leila took the cash, turning her back briefly to ring up his drink. She got him his change, and then started to pour his drink. "You don't have to call me 'ma'am'. Leila will do. I'll start looking for my Mum, or something, otherwise. And do I really look like a ma'am?" she asked him as she set the drink down in front of him. She rest her arms on the edge of the bar, apparently still determined to make sure he was okay. The dragon tattoo was visible on her arm thanks to the short-sleeved blouse she was wearing. The buttons were undone to show the singlet and her cleavage under it, really only visible when she bent forward like now. "You don't sound like a New York native. The place can take some time to get used to, but you'll get the hang of it if you're sticking around."
Rob rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "Was just being polite," he told her, pressing his lips together. "My apologies. Again." It was probably time to go home to bed. If he didn't really want that drink right now, leaving would be a good idea before he made an even bigger dork of himself. "And to be fair, ma-Leila, you don't sound like a native either," he had to point out with a smirk.
Leila reached out, her fingers touching the back of his hand lightly. "I know, and it's sweet, but you don't need to be polite to me. And that's probably the only time I will ever say that to someone. Most times I'm cursing at people for not being polite to me." She smirked, her eyes lighting up. "You're right, I'm not. I'm Australian. My cousin owns the place."
Rob sat down on a bar stool when it got freed up. He pointed to her briefly and nodded. "Oh right, sure. I think I spoke to his wife online. She mentioned this place, and that's why I'm here. I met so many people in the last few days who wanted to tell me all these apparent 'best bars' in New York. I'm starting to wonder if I really sound like I need a drink," he admitted in amusement, scratching at his neck under the chain holding his dog tags. "To be totally honest, though, I was pretty much just thinking I should be home in bed. I'm not sure I'm cut out for the New York social scene. Not really the best conclusion to come to considering I've only been here a few days."
"No, it's just New York as a lot of bars. It's one of the main pastimes at night. I guess everyone just figures you're looking for night entertainment. Tab? It's no wonder she told you about this place. She's the best thing that's ever happened to Luke, even if it didn't start off all that smooth. Luke is Luke though, so of course she couldn't resist. Plus once he knows what he wants, there's no stopping him." Her gaze flicked to the chain, and she arched an eyebrow slightly. "Where'd you come in from? And like I said, it just takes some time to get used to. There's nothing wrong with taking things slow in the beginning. You need an escort home? I'm about due to finish anyway, if you want me to walk you home, or something."
It had been a hell of a long time since Rob had been a member of the single scene, and he really wasn't exactly sure of how to take her offer. Was she hitting on him? Was it just polite in New York to offer to walk strange men home? His tongue came to rest between his lips in contemplation before he wet them and laughed a little. "Yeah, I'm from Littlerock in Arkansas, so a little off the map in comparison to New York. I just got dejavu. I have said similar things to people over the last few days. Cards on the table here, I feel like a floundering fish out of water and I'm really not sure what I'm supposed to do. It also doesn't help that I have more spare time on my hands than I can even begin to know what to do with. But I did contemplate eating a pretzel today before some crazy chick on rollerblades told me to never eat from a New York vendor because I'll vomit myself to death."
Leila laughed. "Yeah, don't listen to the crazy chicks on rollerblades. Most New York vendors are fine. In fact, they're usually really decent. It's just the odd few you need to avoid. And they're more the ones selling weird meat on a stick, not pretzels. Actually, I know a place we can get one right now. I'm not, um... you know, it's nothing creepy. I just thought maybe if you do need an out, I could take you to get a pretzel." Leila pushed off the bar and gave him a little space as she pushed her glasses up and rubbed her eyes. They really had been stinging all day. She wondered if it was being back in a bar atmosphere. "I keep sounding like I'm hitting on you. I don't mean to. Not that I wouldn't! Because you're hot. Definitely hot, even if I want to ruffle your shirt up a bit... again, not actually meaning that to sound dirty... Can we blame my sudden verbal diarrhoea on exhaustion? It's been a really long shift. To get back to you, though, I think you're just supposed to explore and find things you like. What do you like doing?"
"Better verbal than the real deal, I suppose, huh?" Rob pointed out with a laugh. "I spent all day shopping and didn't buy a single thing. I got rammed up the butt by a granny with a shopping cart, though, which, really, eye-opener for me. I was under the delusion all grannies were like Mrs Doubtfire. This is probably the part where I come off sounding extremely boring, which probably should lead to me telling you to head home for some sleep and not waste your time. I'm not used to having spare time. When I did, I like to just chill in front of the TV, maybe get some takeout. Or I like going for drives, being outdoors. There's not much else to me."
"You're not boring, you just know what you like. And all grannies are definitely not like Mrs Doubtfire, otherwise they're all hiding something under their skirts," Leila commented with a smirk. She pulled the cloth out of her pocket, and came around the bar to stand next to him. "I'm not wasting my time. I actually like walking the City at night. It's a while other place when the sun goes down. Which, okay, depending on which area you're in, is a good thing, or a bad thing. Just trust me okay, Littlerock? I wouldn't offer if I wasn't willing to give up some time. And can I please just undo a couple of your buttons? Maybe just roll your sleeves up so they're not perfect?" She gave him a sheepish look, but couldn't help herself. She needed to ruffle him.
Rob blinked and looked down at himself. "No, this... I mean, I don't usually dress like this," he said hastily. "This is, like, almost formal to what you usually find me in. I just figured I should make an effort for a trendy bar in Soho. See, I learnt Soho is trendy from crazy rollerblade chick, and... why do you want to do that? I really do look like a dork, don't I? All I'm missing is a slicked down comb-over, only probably on account of the fact I don't have long enough hair to pull it off. I'll be honest with you here. I'm just back from service and I'm about as trendy as toe socks, which is why I usually just live in jeans and t-shirts when I'm not on duty. The shirt took me half an hour to iron because I had almost forgotten how to use an iron, which is a whole other story in itself. And the verbal diarrhea is catching, clearly."
"Better verbal than the real deal," she repeated with a smile. She tugged on his collar lightly before flicking open one button. "I happen to like guys that wear jeans and t-shirts. There's nothing wrong with it, especially in this bar. It's not a formal place, you come as you are. You don't have to try and be anyone. And seriously just stop listening to crazy chicks on rollerblades. It'll be better for your health. You don't look like a dork, just... too neat." She caught her bottom lip with her teeth briefly, her fingers moving past his collar to touch the chain. "So that explains the dog tags. Are you still enlisted? Or is the free time because you're out?"
Rob exhaled slowly as he felt her fingers brush against his collarbone. Unsafe, uncharted territories. He hadn't had sex in more months than he could remember and this was so wrong of his brain to even be taking him to this place. He had to clear his throat. "I'm enlisted. I just got back from Iraq and put in for a transfer from my base in Oklahoma. I was lucky to be granted it because I have a bit of a tarnished record. I've just got transitional leave for a few weeks to find my feet, then I log back in to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, and then it's just a waiting game. Afghanistan could be next on the list," he admitted quietly. "Camos are more my staple fashion."
She'd felt a spark as she'd touched his skin, but Leila might have just imagined it. All that hard work she and Flynn had indulged in the night before was undone in an instant as she felt a familiar frustration start to build. So, so wrong. As she struggled to keep her cheeks from heating up, her eyes from darkening, a brief sadness flickered across her features. "Afghanistan? You okay with that? I mean, is this what you want to be doing?" He held her hand up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask that. Tell me to fuck off if you want."
Rob looked at her with a smile and pushed his hand through his short hair. "You know, I think some fresh air is a good idea," he told her and pointed over his shoulder to the door, indicating she should follow him. The bar was loud and with a faint lethargy making itself known in his mind and muscles, he would rather be outside than competing with the rocking crowd.
Once they got out onto the steps he looked at her again with another smile. "It's what I want to be doing," he finally answered. "I don't know anything else. I like serving my country, knowing I have a purpose in this world. Afghanistan, maybe not on the top of my list of places I want to visit, but I don't have a choice. It's war. Someone's got to do it. I'm fifth generation military. It's just the way it is." He descended the stairs slowly, looking up at the stars beyond the tops of the buildings. "It's not easy, though."
Leila watched him, wrapping her arms around her middle. She followed a couple of paces behind, more interested in taking in the nuances of his expressions and body language than keeping up. "I can only imagine. Fifth generation is pretty full on. For some reason I just see you really wanting to blow off some steam, but it's no wonder you just want to catch up on sleep. I think it's admirable what you do, I just don't know how you have the strength to get through war."
Rob looked back down at her with a wry smile. "It ain't the war that's left me wanting to blow off steam. And I'm cool. I ain't really all that tired, just kind of overwhelmed. I'm staying with my mate on the Upper West Side. They have the top part of their apartment converted into a studio. I still feel like I'm imposing, but they kept insisting. I was just going to stay in the barracks at the brig." He paused and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'm one of many. You just do it, you know? You get in there and do it, hoping you come back out in the end. No guarantee of that, though. New York's a nice change. I could've ended up posted anywhere, really."
Leila stepped forward and looped her arm through his after he'd tucked his hands in his pockets. She gently pulled him away from the bar, guiding him down the street. "So what kind of steam are you wanting to blow, Littlerock? And hey, feel free to ask me questions, too. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm quizzing you. I'm just interested. I'd take the place on the Upper West Side anytime over barracks. But I guess you go with what you're used to. Just enjoy the comfort for a bit before you have to go to Afghanistan, or wherever else. We're happy to have you. And I say 'we' in the whole I'm choosing to be a part of New York right now. I usually travel a lot, too. Different reasons to yours."
"Yeah?" Rob asked. "So, I can deduce you aren't military. What is it you do? I thought you were doing a pretty good imitation of a bartender back there, but I must have been mistaken. All the pollution has really gone to my head. You really don't need to do this, you know. I guess I must look like a real charity case, maybe even needing some meds of some kind," he laughed.
"Not so much. I'm just a sucker for a hot guy when he's got the lost puppy look," Leila teased. "Consider it my contribution to the protection of the country. You're no good to anyone if you get crushed in a crowd. And I do tend bars, but it's more of a monetary flow thing. I'm a photographer. I focus on bands, and follow them around, trying to capture those quintessential moments that form rock history. Occasionally I have shows, and the shots get published in magazines, or on websites."
Rob looked at her, intrigued. "I don't mean any offense by this, but how do you earn like that? Or is that why you do the bar thing?" he asked. "Not that I don't respect it. Better than sitting at home pampering yourself because you have idealistic views that your husband should take care of you..." He bit down on his lip, his forehead creasing a little. "You said something about pretzels?"
Leila smirked. "Yeah, it's why I do the bar thing. I settle in a place for a few months to build up the cash again, and then I'm off. I was in England last year, and now here. It's cool though, because I'm back near some of my family. I can earn when the right magazines and stuff want my shots, and a lot of music collectors buy the prints when I have shows. It's just an income that fluctuates. I do it because I love it, I'm not doing it to be rich. I don't need that much cash." Leila's eyebrows went up at his slip, but she managed to keep her curiosity to herself. "Yeah, they're just down here in this cool little shop. It's open pretty much all day, and night. Anytime you're back in this area of New York, you can come here and inhale that heady scent of salt and fat," she laughed. "I love it."
"That must make it hard to make friends. Don't you get lonely?" Rob asked her, watching her face intently as they walked slowly along the street. He nodded. "Yeah, I guess I can understand all that, only on a totally not artistic level. My talent is in firearms and combat. Not many people want to take pictures of that for any good purpose. Well, I figure if I'm going to step out of the realms of good old burgers and fries, may as well make it a good ride, huh?"
"Sure," Leila conceded with a nod as she ran her tongue over her lips thoughtfully. "It's why the internet is a great thing. I keep in touch with a lot of people I meet. I'll admit to wishing I had something a little more permanent, but I figured I'd always just cross that bridge if someone came up. So far it hasn't." She turned her head to look up at him, meeting his gaze. "War photography usually exists to show people why it's a horrible thing. I'm not sure it's ever something that can be portrayed as a celebration. No offence. Oh, I can give you a good ride, Littlerock," she smirked.
Rob held up a hand. "None taken. I live it, remember. I don't want souvenirs of it." He tapped his temple. "I get enough of it on rewind when I try to sleep some nights." He wet his lips again and then closed his eyes momentarily. "I, ah... I'm married. Technically. Separated, pending divorce. No love lost and an absolute abysmal end to a marriage. But I just thought I should be honest with you and give you the opening to get away from me as quickly as possible. Before you realise I have a tan line from a wedding ring on my finger and think I'm fucking around on my wife. Trust me, nothing could be further from the truth. The bastard got cut from my finger and it was an extremely cathartic process."
Leila stopped just outside the pretzel place, her arm still linked with his. She looked at him, pressing her lips together briefly as she carefully thought through what she was about to try and say. "I appreciate the option of an out, but in case you didn't notice, I haven't taken any of your outs. The fact that you're separated and waiting for a divorce to come through is a little daunting, but I'm okay with it. I'm sorry your marriage ended so badly, but I'm not sorry that I got to meet you, and we're about to get pretzels." She wet her lips as she raised her free hand, flicking a second button open on his shirt as she smiled. "You didn't actually have to give me full disclosure if this was just pretzels, so I guess the real question is what do you want this to be?"
Rob was quiet for a few moments as he just watched her face with a tiny frown of confusion on his face. "I... don't know," he conceded uncertainly. "But I'm willing to try and find out. I guess I am venturing out here in New York - to bars - at night and not sat at home watching TV because it would be nice to, um, have some fun. But in saying that, I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be looking for. And I swear to god, if my body doesn't cooperate with me at any point, I apologise in advance because it's been a long time that I've had any sort of... female company, that isn't someone else's wife."
"Good thing I'm not someone else's wife then, isn't it?" Leila asked with a wink. "And if I was feeling particularly evil, I'd offer to help you out with those bodily urges as soon as possible so you're not so nervous. And you really are cute when you look all confused."
Rob put a hand up over his mouth as his eyes widened a little. "Oh fuck, I just realised I made it sound like I fuck other dudes' wives when you repeated that back to me. I swear, that's not what I mean at all. Just, um... I'm mostly with my pals, and their wives, completely platonically, is all. Just to clarify." He let out a slow breath and then looked back to her with a sheepish amusement. "I haven't been with anyone since my wife... or anyone but my wife for some years, so forgive me if I'm fucking anything up."
Leila moved in closer, and tugged on his collar before she caught his lips in a soft kiss. "You're not fucking anything up, Littlerock. You're doing just fine."
Rob rested his hand on her arm and bit softly on his lip in the wake of the kiss. "Can I just, um... what are you looking for? I mean, you said yourself, you hardly stick in one place. I don't even know why I'm asking this. It's none of my business," he murmured.
"Because nothing ever made me want to stick. Which makes it sound like I don't care about my family, that's bullshit. I do. We all just know that we can leave and come back as many times as we want. Romantically nothing has made me want to stick. I'm looking for the thing that might make me, ah... sticky," she finished with a slight wince at her own wording. "And you gave me full disclosure, so it's only fair I return it. I don't have a lot of exes in my past because I'm guilty of being picky. But you... I don't know. You have the walk, and you gave me a snuggle tingle. Not lot of guys have both. It's one, or the other."
"Walk?" Rob had to ask with a laugh. "The Walk? Okay, now I'm intrigued, because it ain't like I went to any special classes to learn it or anything. I don't even know what a snuggle tingle is, but I guess I can roll with that. I can promise I'm not a total basketcase, but I can't promise I don't come with issues, because I do. Nothing I will inflict on you, though. Even if we just stick whatever out until the pretzel is said and done."
Leila ducked her head, a small flip in her stomach making her feel suddenly nervous, or maybe it was just excitement. Even if it lasted only for the pretzel. "The good lay walk," she revealed with a sheepish smile when she met his gaze again. "The way a guy walks says everything about what he's like in the sack. At least that's my theory. And a snuggle tingle is just... there's the sex tingle, and the snuggle tingle. You meet someone, and it can be just about the sex and it's cool. You meet someone, and they make you think about snuggling after sex then it's, I guess it's special." Leila held her hand up. "And now I'm the crazy sounding one. Only I don't have rollerblades, so you don't have to avoid me. I don't mind issues."
Rob was taken back briefly to his conversation with Pete. He still wasn't sure if he was even the one night stand type. He never had been in the past, but maybe that was his problem. He wanted sex, no denying it. He missed passion and the closeness to another naked, warm body. The pleasure of being inside someone and making them feel amazing. Passion was even something that had gone long ago from his marital relations. And she seemed willing enough. At least, willing enough to take things beyond a pretzel, whatever those 'things' were, remained to be seen. "I don't know if I can have sex and just walk away from someone," he found himself admitting before he could stop the words dropping out of his mouth. "My mate thinks I just need to get laid, fast and hard. He thinks my motto should be 'Do or be done'. He might be right, but I figure I've gone this long. I need a connection, something that reminds me I'm not dead deep inside."
Leila pulled him into a kiss again, this one still soft but it lingered longer than the first and hinted at more to come. She stayed close to him, her thumb rubbing against his cheek as she stole the brief intimate moment on the busy sidewalk. "We've known each other for like an hour and I already feel like I'm not ready for this night to end. I think it says enough... So I vote for us starting with a pretzel, follow it up with fast and hard, and then see what else we can do, Littlerock."
All muses referenced with permission
Word Count | 5,001
Eve Sawyer
Co-written with doesntwaltz [Follows THIS, THIS and THIS]
The jury was still out on whether Rob liked New York or not. It seemed everyone he actually met who was in New York, or knew New York wanted to point him in the direction of a bar. He had names of bars coming out his butt by this point, and a strange urge to eat a pretzel. As it was, he spent the day wandering aimlessly around the shops and not buying a single thing. It wasn't that he didn't have money, because he did. He had high plans to try and plump out his inventory a little and just buy something that didn't fit in his bag, but he really must just be someone who didn't need much. He couldn't see a single thing he actually wanted to buy himself. Saw lots of things he might buy a girlfriend... if he had one, which he didn't. No wife, no girlfriend, just an enthusiastic right hand.
By the time he was done with the 'shopping', he really did need a drink. Especially after it took him nearly half an hour to get into a cab after maybe a little too politely offering it to a string of people before him who looked like they needed it more than he did. Of all the bars, though, The Bondi had stuck the most. Maybe it was the Aussie reference and the fact Rob did know some Aussies from Iraq, but he just figured what the hell. He pushed into the crowded bar and looked around, feeling immediately out of place. Everyone looked so... New Yorkish. He was standing there in his jeans and a neat blue button-up, wondering if he had a flashing sign above his head screaming 'FOREIGNER!'. Plus, he didn't have one musical bone in his body and this place seemed to thrive on music. Indeed, the band up on stage was rocking the place.
He pulled his lips to the side and wove his way up to the bar, hanging off to the side to wait his turn to be served. If this didn't work out, he could always go to the Irish pub he passed a few blocks back. At least he knew how to drink a pint of Guinness with style.
Leila was working a few shifts at The Bondi while she stayed in New York. If she was going to be behind any bar, it would be his cousin's. He'd gone back to Princeton for the night to be with his wife, and trusted Leila not to break the place. His 2IC was still around to run the joint, but Leila wasn't a stranger to bars. She'd worked in them on and off to subsidise her photography when funds got a little low, plus it helped pay rent. Her blond hair was done up in loose dreads, a few locks pinned back to keep them off her face. Her eyes had been irritating her all day, so she was actually wearing her glasses. They were a black framed pair she'd had since high school, the rectangular frames still in style thanks to the fashion world's apparent obsession with nerds.
She moved up the bar to serve the guy in the neat blue button-up, smiling as she looked him up and down. She felt a strange urge to reach out and unbutton his shirt a little, or roll up the sleeves. She'd been a lot more relaxed since taking a tumble with Flynn. "What can I get you?"
Rob was already rethinking his decision to come here. The place was absolutely pounding, and although the music was good, it was kind of intense after battling the hectic city most of the day. To think he actually found it more difficult to swallow than gunshots and grenade explosions from the army. When the voice addressed him, he turned back to the bar from where he had been looking over the scene on the stage and everyone dancing in front of it. "Um," he began stupidly, quickly looking over the spirits lining the back of the bar. Should he order something to suit the scene or go with the old faithful? He floundered a little when his blue eyes landed on her face. "Just a, uh..." he waved his hand a little at the bottles, "Scotch and Coke, please?"
Leila watched him intently, instantly forgetting all the other customers. She wasn't the only bartender working tonight, so let them deal with the rabble. Her blue eyes searched his face from behind her glasses as she sucked on her bottom lip. "Sure. You okay, mate? Not going to pass out on me, are you?" She glanced away briefly, thinking something over. "You need a break from the crowd?"
Rob smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm fine, ma'am, really. I think I've just had too much pollution today, or something. Not to mention it's been some time since I was in a place like this. I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here and I apologise for coming across as kinda thick. It ain't like that, I promise," he assured her, not exactly even sure why he felt the need to clarify to the bartender. It was just the way she was looking at him. He took his wallet out and handed over some cash sheepishly.
Leila took the cash, turning her back briefly to ring up his drink. She got him his change, and then started to pour his drink. "You don't have to call me 'ma'am'. Leila will do. I'll start looking for my Mum, or something, otherwise. And do I really look like a ma'am?" she asked him as she set the drink down in front of him. She rest her arms on the edge of the bar, apparently still determined to make sure he was okay. The dragon tattoo was visible on her arm thanks to the short-sleeved blouse she was wearing. The buttons were undone to show the singlet and her cleavage under it, really only visible when she bent forward like now. "You don't sound like a New York native. The place can take some time to get used to, but you'll get the hang of it if you're sticking around."
Rob rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "Was just being polite," he told her, pressing his lips together. "My apologies. Again." It was probably time to go home to bed. If he didn't really want that drink right now, leaving would be a good idea before he made an even bigger dork of himself. "And to be fair, ma-Leila, you don't sound like a native either," he had to point out with a smirk.
Leila reached out, her fingers touching the back of his hand lightly. "I know, and it's sweet, but you don't need to be polite to me. And that's probably the only time I will ever say that to someone. Most times I'm cursing at people for not being polite to me." She smirked, her eyes lighting up. "You're right, I'm not. I'm Australian. My cousin owns the place."
Rob sat down on a bar stool when it got freed up. He pointed to her briefly and nodded. "Oh right, sure. I think I spoke to his wife online. She mentioned this place, and that's why I'm here. I met so many people in the last few days who wanted to tell me all these apparent 'best bars' in New York. I'm starting to wonder if I really sound like I need a drink," he admitted in amusement, scratching at his neck under the chain holding his dog tags. "To be totally honest, though, I was pretty much just thinking I should be home in bed. I'm not sure I'm cut out for the New York social scene. Not really the best conclusion to come to considering I've only been here a few days."
"No, it's just New York as a lot of bars. It's one of the main pastimes at night. I guess everyone just figures you're looking for night entertainment. Tab? It's no wonder she told you about this place. She's the best thing that's ever happened to Luke, even if it didn't start off all that smooth. Luke is Luke though, so of course she couldn't resist. Plus once he knows what he wants, there's no stopping him." Her gaze flicked to the chain, and she arched an eyebrow slightly. "Where'd you come in from? And like I said, it just takes some time to get used to. There's nothing wrong with taking things slow in the beginning. You need an escort home? I'm about due to finish anyway, if you want me to walk you home, or something."
It had been a hell of a long time since Rob had been a member of the single scene, and he really wasn't exactly sure of how to take her offer. Was she hitting on him? Was it just polite in New York to offer to walk strange men home? His tongue came to rest between his lips in contemplation before he wet them and laughed a little. "Yeah, I'm from Littlerock in Arkansas, so a little off the map in comparison to New York. I just got dejavu. I have said similar things to people over the last few days. Cards on the table here, I feel like a floundering fish out of water and I'm really not sure what I'm supposed to do. It also doesn't help that I have more spare time on my hands than I can even begin to know what to do with. But I did contemplate eating a pretzel today before some crazy chick on rollerblades told me to never eat from a New York vendor because I'll vomit myself to death."
Leila laughed. "Yeah, don't listen to the crazy chicks on rollerblades. Most New York vendors are fine. In fact, they're usually really decent. It's just the odd few you need to avoid. And they're more the ones selling weird meat on a stick, not pretzels. Actually, I know a place we can get one right now. I'm not, um... you know, it's nothing creepy. I just thought maybe if you do need an out, I could take you to get a pretzel." Leila pushed off the bar and gave him a little space as she pushed her glasses up and rubbed her eyes. They really had been stinging all day. She wondered if it was being back in a bar atmosphere. "I keep sounding like I'm hitting on you. I don't mean to. Not that I wouldn't! Because you're hot. Definitely hot, even if I want to ruffle your shirt up a bit... again, not actually meaning that to sound dirty... Can we blame my sudden verbal diarrhoea on exhaustion? It's been a really long shift. To get back to you, though, I think you're just supposed to explore and find things you like. What do you like doing?"
"Better verbal than the real deal, I suppose, huh?" Rob pointed out with a laugh. "I spent all day shopping and didn't buy a single thing. I got rammed up the butt by a granny with a shopping cart, though, which, really, eye-opener for me. I was under the delusion all grannies were like Mrs Doubtfire. This is probably the part where I come off sounding extremely boring, which probably should lead to me telling you to head home for some sleep and not waste your time. I'm not used to having spare time. When I did, I like to just chill in front of the TV, maybe get some takeout. Or I like going for drives, being outdoors. There's not much else to me."
"You're not boring, you just know what you like. And all grannies are definitely not like Mrs Doubtfire, otherwise they're all hiding something under their skirts," Leila commented with a smirk. She pulled the cloth out of her pocket, and came around the bar to stand next to him. "I'm not wasting my time. I actually like walking the City at night. It's a while other place when the sun goes down. Which, okay, depending on which area you're in, is a good thing, or a bad thing. Just trust me okay, Littlerock? I wouldn't offer if I wasn't willing to give up some time. And can I please just undo a couple of your buttons? Maybe just roll your sleeves up so they're not perfect?" She gave him a sheepish look, but couldn't help herself. She needed to ruffle him.
Rob blinked and looked down at himself. "No, this... I mean, I don't usually dress like this," he said hastily. "This is, like, almost formal to what you usually find me in. I just figured I should make an effort for a trendy bar in Soho. See, I learnt Soho is trendy from crazy rollerblade chick, and... why do you want to do that? I really do look like a dork, don't I? All I'm missing is a slicked down comb-over, only probably on account of the fact I don't have long enough hair to pull it off. I'll be honest with you here. I'm just back from service and I'm about as trendy as toe socks, which is why I usually just live in jeans and t-shirts when I'm not on duty. The shirt took me half an hour to iron because I had almost forgotten how to use an iron, which is a whole other story in itself. And the verbal diarrhea is catching, clearly."
"Better verbal than the real deal," she repeated with a smile. She tugged on his collar lightly before flicking open one button. "I happen to like guys that wear jeans and t-shirts. There's nothing wrong with it, especially in this bar. It's not a formal place, you come as you are. You don't have to try and be anyone. And seriously just stop listening to crazy chicks on rollerblades. It'll be better for your health. You don't look like a dork, just... too neat." She caught her bottom lip with her teeth briefly, her fingers moving past his collar to touch the chain. "So that explains the dog tags. Are you still enlisted? Or is the free time because you're out?"
Rob exhaled slowly as he felt her fingers brush against his collarbone. Unsafe, uncharted territories. He hadn't had sex in more months than he could remember and this was so wrong of his brain to even be taking him to this place. He had to clear his throat. "I'm enlisted. I just got back from Iraq and put in for a transfer from my base in Oklahoma. I was lucky to be granted it because I have a bit of a tarnished record. I've just got transitional leave for a few weeks to find my feet, then I log back in to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, and then it's just a waiting game. Afghanistan could be next on the list," he admitted quietly. "Camos are more my staple fashion."
She'd felt a spark as she'd touched his skin, but Leila might have just imagined it. All that hard work she and Flynn had indulged in the night before was undone in an instant as she felt a familiar frustration start to build. So, so wrong. As she struggled to keep her cheeks from heating up, her eyes from darkening, a brief sadness flickered across her features. "Afghanistan? You okay with that? I mean, is this what you want to be doing?" He held her hand up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask that. Tell me to fuck off if you want."
Rob looked at her with a smile and pushed his hand through his short hair. "You know, I think some fresh air is a good idea," he told her and pointed over his shoulder to the door, indicating she should follow him. The bar was loud and with a faint lethargy making itself known in his mind and muscles, he would rather be outside than competing with the rocking crowd.
Once they got out onto the steps he looked at her again with another smile. "It's what I want to be doing," he finally answered. "I don't know anything else. I like serving my country, knowing I have a purpose in this world. Afghanistan, maybe not on the top of my list of places I want to visit, but I don't have a choice. It's war. Someone's got to do it. I'm fifth generation military. It's just the way it is." He descended the stairs slowly, looking up at the stars beyond the tops of the buildings. "It's not easy, though."
Leila watched him, wrapping her arms around her middle. She followed a couple of paces behind, more interested in taking in the nuances of his expressions and body language than keeping up. "I can only imagine. Fifth generation is pretty full on. For some reason I just see you really wanting to blow off some steam, but it's no wonder you just want to catch up on sleep. I think it's admirable what you do, I just don't know how you have the strength to get through war."
Rob looked back down at her with a wry smile. "It ain't the war that's left me wanting to blow off steam. And I'm cool. I ain't really all that tired, just kind of overwhelmed. I'm staying with my mate on the Upper West Side. They have the top part of their apartment converted into a studio. I still feel like I'm imposing, but they kept insisting. I was just going to stay in the barracks at the brig." He paused and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'm one of many. You just do it, you know? You get in there and do it, hoping you come back out in the end. No guarantee of that, though. New York's a nice change. I could've ended up posted anywhere, really."
Leila stepped forward and looped her arm through his after he'd tucked his hands in his pockets. She gently pulled him away from the bar, guiding him down the street. "So what kind of steam are you wanting to blow, Littlerock? And hey, feel free to ask me questions, too. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm quizzing you. I'm just interested. I'd take the place on the Upper West Side anytime over barracks. But I guess you go with what you're used to. Just enjoy the comfort for a bit before you have to go to Afghanistan, or wherever else. We're happy to have you. And I say 'we' in the whole I'm choosing to be a part of New York right now. I usually travel a lot, too. Different reasons to yours."
"Yeah?" Rob asked. "So, I can deduce you aren't military. What is it you do? I thought you were doing a pretty good imitation of a bartender back there, but I must have been mistaken. All the pollution has really gone to my head. You really don't need to do this, you know. I guess I must look like a real charity case, maybe even needing some meds of some kind," he laughed.
"Not so much. I'm just a sucker for a hot guy when he's got the lost puppy look," Leila teased. "Consider it my contribution to the protection of the country. You're no good to anyone if you get crushed in a crowd. And I do tend bars, but it's more of a monetary flow thing. I'm a photographer. I focus on bands, and follow them around, trying to capture those quintessential moments that form rock history. Occasionally I have shows, and the shots get published in magazines, or on websites."
Rob looked at her, intrigued. "I don't mean any offense by this, but how do you earn like that? Or is that why you do the bar thing?" he asked. "Not that I don't respect it. Better than sitting at home pampering yourself because you have idealistic views that your husband should take care of you..." He bit down on his lip, his forehead creasing a little. "You said something about pretzels?"
Leila smirked. "Yeah, it's why I do the bar thing. I settle in a place for a few months to build up the cash again, and then I'm off. I was in England last year, and now here. It's cool though, because I'm back near some of my family. I can earn when the right magazines and stuff want my shots, and a lot of music collectors buy the prints when I have shows. It's just an income that fluctuates. I do it because I love it, I'm not doing it to be rich. I don't need that much cash." Leila's eyebrows went up at his slip, but she managed to keep her curiosity to herself. "Yeah, they're just down here in this cool little shop. It's open pretty much all day, and night. Anytime you're back in this area of New York, you can come here and inhale that heady scent of salt and fat," she laughed. "I love it."
"That must make it hard to make friends. Don't you get lonely?" Rob asked her, watching her face intently as they walked slowly along the street. He nodded. "Yeah, I guess I can understand all that, only on a totally not artistic level. My talent is in firearms and combat. Not many people want to take pictures of that for any good purpose. Well, I figure if I'm going to step out of the realms of good old burgers and fries, may as well make it a good ride, huh?"
"Sure," Leila conceded with a nod as she ran her tongue over her lips thoughtfully. "It's why the internet is a great thing. I keep in touch with a lot of people I meet. I'll admit to wishing I had something a little more permanent, but I figured I'd always just cross that bridge if someone came up. So far it hasn't." She turned her head to look up at him, meeting his gaze. "War photography usually exists to show people why it's a horrible thing. I'm not sure it's ever something that can be portrayed as a celebration. No offence. Oh, I can give you a good ride, Littlerock," she smirked.
Rob held up a hand. "None taken. I live it, remember. I don't want souvenirs of it." He tapped his temple. "I get enough of it on rewind when I try to sleep some nights." He wet his lips again and then closed his eyes momentarily. "I, ah... I'm married. Technically. Separated, pending divorce. No love lost and an absolute abysmal end to a marriage. But I just thought I should be honest with you and give you the opening to get away from me as quickly as possible. Before you realise I have a tan line from a wedding ring on my finger and think I'm fucking around on my wife. Trust me, nothing could be further from the truth. The bastard got cut from my finger and it was an extremely cathartic process."
Leila stopped just outside the pretzel place, her arm still linked with his. She looked at him, pressing her lips together briefly as she carefully thought through what she was about to try and say. "I appreciate the option of an out, but in case you didn't notice, I haven't taken any of your outs. The fact that you're separated and waiting for a divorce to come through is a little daunting, but I'm okay with it. I'm sorry your marriage ended so badly, but I'm not sorry that I got to meet you, and we're about to get pretzels." She wet her lips as she raised her free hand, flicking a second button open on his shirt as she smiled. "You didn't actually have to give me full disclosure if this was just pretzels, so I guess the real question is what do you want this to be?"
Rob was quiet for a few moments as he just watched her face with a tiny frown of confusion on his face. "I... don't know," he conceded uncertainly. "But I'm willing to try and find out. I guess I am venturing out here in New York - to bars - at night and not sat at home watching TV because it would be nice to, um, have some fun. But in saying that, I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be looking for. And I swear to god, if my body doesn't cooperate with me at any point, I apologise in advance because it's been a long time that I've had any sort of... female company, that isn't someone else's wife."
"Good thing I'm not someone else's wife then, isn't it?" Leila asked with a wink. "And if I was feeling particularly evil, I'd offer to help you out with those bodily urges as soon as possible so you're not so nervous. And you really are cute when you look all confused."
Rob put a hand up over his mouth as his eyes widened a little. "Oh fuck, I just realised I made it sound like I fuck other dudes' wives when you repeated that back to me. I swear, that's not what I mean at all. Just, um... I'm mostly with my pals, and their wives, completely platonically, is all. Just to clarify." He let out a slow breath and then looked back to her with a sheepish amusement. "I haven't been with anyone since my wife... or anyone but my wife for some years, so forgive me if I'm fucking anything up."
Leila moved in closer, and tugged on his collar before she caught his lips in a soft kiss. "You're not fucking anything up, Littlerock. You're doing just fine."
Rob rested his hand on her arm and bit softly on his lip in the wake of the kiss. "Can I just, um... what are you looking for? I mean, you said yourself, you hardly stick in one place. I don't even know why I'm asking this. It's none of my business," he murmured.
"Because nothing ever made me want to stick. Which makes it sound like I don't care about my family, that's bullshit. I do. We all just know that we can leave and come back as many times as we want. Romantically nothing has made me want to stick. I'm looking for the thing that might make me, ah... sticky," she finished with a slight wince at her own wording. "And you gave me full disclosure, so it's only fair I return it. I don't have a lot of exes in my past because I'm guilty of being picky. But you... I don't know. You have the walk, and you gave me a snuggle tingle. Not lot of guys have both. It's one, or the other."
"Walk?" Rob had to ask with a laugh. "The Walk? Okay, now I'm intrigued, because it ain't like I went to any special classes to learn it or anything. I don't even know what a snuggle tingle is, but I guess I can roll with that. I can promise I'm not a total basketcase, but I can't promise I don't come with issues, because I do. Nothing I will inflict on you, though. Even if we just stick whatever out until the pretzel is said and done."
Leila ducked her head, a small flip in her stomach making her feel suddenly nervous, or maybe it was just excitement. Even if it lasted only for the pretzel. "The good lay walk," she revealed with a sheepish smile when she met his gaze again. "The way a guy walks says everything about what he's like in the sack. At least that's my theory. And a snuggle tingle is just... there's the sex tingle, and the snuggle tingle. You meet someone, and it can be just about the sex and it's cool. You meet someone, and they make you think about snuggling after sex then it's, I guess it's special." Leila held her hand up. "And now I'm the crazy sounding one. Only I don't have rollerblades, so you don't have to avoid me. I don't mind issues."
Rob was taken back briefly to his conversation with Pete. He still wasn't sure if he was even the one night stand type. He never had been in the past, but maybe that was his problem. He wanted sex, no denying it. He missed passion and the closeness to another naked, warm body. The pleasure of being inside someone and making them feel amazing. Passion was even something that had gone long ago from his marital relations. And she seemed willing enough. At least, willing enough to take things beyond a pretzel, whatever those 'things' were, remained to be seen. "I don't know if I can have sex and just walk away from someone," he found himself admitting before he could stop the words dropping out of his mouth. "My mate thinks I just need to get laid, fast and hard. He thinks my motto should be 'Do or be done'. He might be right, but I figure I've gone this long. I need a connection, something that reminds me I'm not dead deep inside."
Leila pulled him into a kiss again, this one still soft but it lingered longer than the first and hinted at more to come. She stayed close to him, her thumb rubbing against his cheek as she stole the brief intimate moment on the busy sidewalk. "We've known each other for like an hour and I already feel like I'm not ready for this night to end. I think it says enough... So I vote for us starting with a pretzel, follow it up with fast and hard, and then see what else we can do, Littlerock."
All muses referenced with permission
Word Count | 5,001