She barked a laugh and then hung her head a bit, partly with tiredness, partly with faux shame that she'd been so amused at Mikhail's giddiness. He looked like a kid at Christmas. At least one of them was pleased by the bargain. She shot him a 'don't let me down' look after his build up, and then sniffed dismissively at his remark about Dom. Puppy. She had puppies. Dom wasn't one of them. She respected him enough to consider him as capable an enemy as he was an ally. But again... Cosmo was right about complacency.
"I will consider it." He would not.
"Ohp!" He was back. It was commonplace, but even for him, he'd been quick. "That's... what I'm talking about," she smelled it as he explained the familiar contents of her drink. She took a swallow and held it in her mouth for a moment until Mikhail siddled up behind her after their salute. She swallowed. Fffft. Her hair sparked after he spoke. Eva took another drink. "I know all about your wheelhouse," she countered, coolly. She shook off the feeling of being affected by Mikhail's creeping, then sat her glass down on the roundtable.
Her arms crossed under her chest and she allowed herself a smirk at what the Russian had uttered. "Mud? No. Blood? I'd like to keep my hands clean." There was a difference between threats and blackmail and spying and outright homicide. She knew Mikhail had done it before and she understood she'd just agreed to let him do it again, should the need arise. But deep down, she felt he didn't delight in it. "I'm going to get Nate up to speed tomorrow. His son is visiting, so I don't want to bother him tonight." She blinked and took up her glass again. "What we discussed earlier is off the records. Just so we're on the same page." Wordplay. She couldn't help herself. "Anyway," Zap drank, "I should wrap today up and-" there was a cosmic wolf under the glass table, "get home before this happens." She grinned and waved sheepishly at the astral animal that had clearly been sent by her son to express his annoyance at her lack of home-time. "Cachorro, Estoy llegando a casa. Batirme allĂ," the Latina dared.
There was an eerie whine and then the giant puppy phased through the floor and disappeared with an air of defiance.
"Thank you, sir, for the drink," she offered. "Use the Lord & Taylor accessory wall thoughtfully," was her parting advice, and she gave the Russian back his glass, now empty. "It was good to see you unclench." She was smirking, but fairly serious, and her hand finally released the glass they'd both been holding. Mikhail's masks had masks. And however carefree he built his facade to look, underneath he was a thunderstorm of vigilance. He'd smiled, he'd sworn, he'd flirted(?). Maybe what she'd done wouldn't prove to be a completely horrible mistake. Right? Sure. "Good night, Mikhail."