Who: Jen & Liz What: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. (Also: A very BAMF Christmas.) Where: Hamartia 305. When: Christmas Eve Warnings: An entirely safe for work log from Liz & Jen. NO SRSLY. Also breaking and entering approved by Reg. We asked nicely.
It probably said something about the management at Hamartia that it had taken only a reasonable bribe to get into JP’s apartment. Liz suspected that it would have taken a much healthier amount to get into Bathos, and a really staggering number to get into Aubade... luckily, she wasn’t breaking into anyone’s apartment in Aubade.
She glanced over at her partner in crime only once before exiting the vehicle that had pulled up in front of the apartment building. It was a rental, jet black and with heavily tinted windows. The one that had pulled in behind it was identical, but the black-suited men getting out of it seemed to be having a little trouble with their piece of things – a large faux tree, namely. She watched them for a moment, if only to make sure that they got a handle on the tree, and then slipped her dark glasses on. They were completely inappropriate for the evening, but she was going for a look. They were necessary. Glasses in place, she paused only long enough to retrieve a large box from the backseat of the car and wait for her lady friend. Once they were ready, the entire group headed for Hamartia.
Destination? Third floor, Jackie Poole’s apartment. “You’re sure she’s at work?” Exiting the vehicle by the opposite door, Jennifer adjusted her black overcoat and looked around. The hired men were busying themselves under their employer’s subtle scrutiny and she paid them little attention. They were all Liz’s doing, after all, and she would let her handle the details. Even during the late hours, or perhaps especially because of them, the group of intruders were bound to earn themselves an audience. Their sharp, tasteful outfits only added to the mystery. Following Liz’s lead up to the building until the two women were matching strides, Jennifer adjusted her own pair of shades.
She came armed of course, just in case of trouble, the comforting weight of a Beretta nestled carefully under her waistband. Jennifer kept this small detail to herself. She liked to be prepared--and strangely protective. As a police officer, she knew the Hamartia was a nest of irritations on the best of days. “I checked in earlier,” she answered. “It shouldn’t be a problem.” Stepping past Liz for a moment, she opened the battered door and offered her the lead. An almost imperceptible twitch of the lips, but the smirk was gone in an instant and Jennifer’s head titled back to her usual confident expression. If there was an audience, Liz was apparently unconcerned. Aside from the black trenchcoat and the dark glasses, her identity wasn’t concealed in the least. Her hair was down over one shoulder in a ponytail – smart and businesslike, but not stealthy. Actually, being seen was a perk. From what Warda had told her, she could only imagine JP’s reaction to a group of suits in black cars infiltrating her apartment building in the dead of night on Christmas Eve. She almost wished she would be present to witness the spectacle... almost.
The opened door earned Jen a glance, the barest little turn of her head giving it away even though her eyes were hidden behind her shades. “Excellent.” There was just a flicker of warmth, a smile hiding at the corner of her mouth, and then she was all business again, striding into the building and through the lobby without pausing. The elevator, she was told, was extremely unreliable; Liz headed for the steps. The only time she paused after that was to give one of her hired men (otherwise known as a handful of her security personnel and a bartender from Phantasia) a look for grumbling about the tree. It silenced him, and they continued without further incident. Despite Liz’s presence and their small, murmuring entourage, Jennifer entered into the building as she had many times before. She noted a group of people smoking and laughing far down the hallway, all of them quickly silenced by the sight of Jennifer and her company, but nothing unusual that warranted her concern. Her stride never wavered as they travelled up the stairs, down another narrow hall and to the familiar door to JP’s apartment. Removing a set of keys that Liz had obtained...somehow, the detective unlocked the door and stepped inside. Leading the way into her friend’s small home, she took a quick glance around before motioning the hired men forward.
Jennifer turned on the lights as she passed through the hallway and kitchen. If she had any concerns about their Christmas stealth operation, it showed in neither her expression nor her posture. With the same confidence and poise as ever, she shrugged out of her overcoat and set it aside neatly onto the kitchen table. Removing her glasses and gloves as well, the rest of her outfit seemed well-suited to any covert mission. As her interest in leather boots was always a given, Jennifer had opted for crisp, fashionable slacks instead of a skirt (if only to better carry her gun), and a stark white blouse with a subtle if dangerous neckline. The dark vest and blazer were indulgent, but she thought it gave the outfit a hint of refinement and mystery--why be a second rate agent, after all? Let it never be said that Detective Warda couldn’t show a vague hint of holiday spirit at least once per decade. Not that it had anything to do with the distracting blonde accompanying her that night. Of course.
After she was finished, Jennifer looked around to make note of everyone’s movements. Just in case one of them broke something. Once they were in the apartment (Liz said nothing about the keys she produced, and Warda didn’t ask – plausible deniability) they were committed. Luckily, Jen had been right. There was no trace of JP in the house; no early night at work, no surprises. Liz set the men to their previously assigned tasks with a gesture, moving to shed her coat while the suited men put the tree down and started rearranging furniture to make room for it.
Like Jen, she’d followed a standard dress-code... at least for the most part. Her slacks were slim and black, non-descript but very flattering. Instead of a basic white button-up, she’d chosen a crimson silk camisole edged with lace, and her blazer was tailored and smart. Okay, so not quite the oh-so-serious agent look, but very smart nonetheless. She pulled off her shades, and left them and her coat on a counter in the kitchen, folded carefully. By the time she returned to the living room, the hired helpers were almost finished with setting up the tree on its stand.
The tree had been a special challenge. It was fake, but the most luxurious fake that Liz had been able to find, so expensive and well-made that it looked quite real. She had spent more on the young Miss Poole’s tree than she had on the one in her own apartment, but the outcome was lovely. Having it treated multiple times to make sure that it was as close to germ-free as possible was also quite the experience. People had given her very strange looks, for that.
Once the tree was up, Liz sent the men in the suits on their way. The rest of the decorating would be up to her and Jen. Moving over to grab a sealed bag, Liz opened it carefully, shaking free a tree skirt. A glance in Jen’s direction, and one of her brows went up. “So. Are you ready?” Jennifer waited until the men had departed before approaching. It really was an amazingly constructed tree, she realized, touching one of the branches with her fingers. The cost must have been outrageous as well--the entire gesture was something curious and probably worth more consideration than she was currently allowing. Turning her attention to Liz and the fabric in her hands, the detective distracted herself with the business at hand.
“Where do I start?” She asked, eyebrows raised slightly. She couldn’t recall the last time she tried to decorate for the holidays, and she never bothered to do anything similar for her own apartment. This was going to be an interesting challenge. That was a question she wasn’t expecting, but Liz found herself smiling as she knelt to slip the skirt around the tree’s base. She hadn’t been aware, previously, that there was anything that Jen didn’t know how to do. It was surprising, but also... kind of endearing. The woman didn’t bat an eye before jumping out a window to chase a criminal, but she was lost in the face of Christmas decorations.
“Maybe with garland? You’re taller than I am,” the blonde pointed out, arranging the skirt just so before she slid to her feet and started digging through one of the boxes of decorations. The tree would take the longest to decorate. She paused, pointing to the box with the garland. It was also new; everything was new, considering the problems with allergies that Jen had described. It wouldn’t be a very good surprise if any of the decorations put JP in the hospital, would it? And it had seemed like making it a good surprise was important to her lady-friend. That made it important to Liz, even if she hadn’t come out and said as much. “It just has to be tacked up in swaths.” Jennifer shifted past Liz after receiving her directions and tentatively picked up the box of garland. “Sounds reasonable,” she offered in response, already working out a plan in her mind. Christmas decorating couldn’t be terribly difficult after all, and she wasn’t exactly blind to good taste. In truth, she thought she was probably extremely lucky that Liz had volunteered for this project, even if she hadn’t quite said as much out loud. Sentiments of gratitude had never been one of her skills either.
So she set about quietly arranging the garland like the other woman suggested, asking for further advice when needed. Jennifer knew they had quite a comfortable time frame to finish the project--JP wouldn’t be home until some time much later that evening. Taking her time with the rest of the decorations, it was nearly an hour later before the tiny living room transformed into the sort of winter wonderland the two had discussed earlier. The tree itself was nothing if not spectacular.
After finishing with the tinsel, Jennifer took off her blazer and tried to brush off the glitter that had somehow managed to rub off on her. There was a hint of a frown as the glitter rubbed off on her hands instead--no one really needed Detective Warda sparkling or bedazzled, and certainly not during the holidays. She sighed and tossed it over her jacket on the nearby table. Hopefully Liz was in a better state of non-sparkle.
“Was that the last of it?” By the time they were finished, JP’s living room looked a little like it had been taken over by very tasteful elves, or maybe Christmas faeries. The tree was pretty spectacular, reaching nearly to the ceiling and festooned with twinkling white lights and lovely ornaments done in shades of white and gold. Jen’s garlands were hung elegantly along the tops of the walls. The hard surfaces of the room had been covered in clean-burning gold and white candles with shimmery glass holders. Liz was looking pleased with herself.
Although she did have some glitter on her nose and cheeks, which she probably would have been less pleased with if she’d realized.
“I think so,” she confirmed, stepping back from the tree to survey the room at large. They really did lovely work together, didn’t they. “Do you think your friend will be pleased?” “Next best thing to frost faeries,” she answered confidently. “I know she’ll love it.” Jennifer moved closer, attempting to brush off the remaining glitter-sparkle on her slacks as she too surveyed the room. Once they were standing side by side, she gazed down briefly to note the faint hint of glitter on Liz’s cheeks as well. Her jaw clenched, and the detective was forced to turn away almost immediately--whatever thought tried to form in that moment probably would’ve earned her ferocious disapproval on principle.
For Liz was many surprising things, but Jennifer doubted very much that she would’ve approved being considered cute even for a moment. She did the most reasonable thing afforded to her in this new situation, her face turned away to give their handiwork appraisal while her hand moved to rest on the small of Liz’s back. Her own body language thankfully betrayed nothing else.
“Feels like something’s missing,” Jennifer admitted after a moment. Hard to believe, but there was something in the room that seemed...strangely lacking, perhaps? She raised an eyebrow. Their decorations were tasteful and utterly flawless--with the soft glow of candles and lights, even the detective couldn’t help but feel uplifted. Her fingers tapped lightly against Liz’s back as she gave it further thought.
Of course.
She turned to Liz again, her expression calm if not just a tad smug. “Right, the most important part,” she confirmed, and with a nod for emphasis, Jennifer was searching the room. Even with Jen’s hand soothingly resting against the small of her back — wait, when had that become soothing? It had become common knowledge that she enjoyed the detective’s company; exchanging passionate kisses at public functions had made secrecy a near impossibility. Liz wouldn’t even have batted an eye at saying that she was very fond of Jen. She stopped short of admitting how enthralling her lady friend was out loud, but she herself knew of course.
But soothing? That was a new one. Hmm.
Regardless, even with Jen’s hand on her back, she couldn’t help but bristle a little at the idea that something was missing from the room. It was perfect. It glittered. It sparkled. It was as close to hypoallergenic as possible, from floor to ceiling. Liz didn’t exactly frown when her lady friend shifted away, but she turned to watch her with an expression that was not precisely full of holiday spirit, either.
“Do tell,” the blonde urged, her voice cool and smooth. “What have I forgotten, Detective?” For her part, Jennifer didn’t have a clue about feelings. Her experience in matters of romance (was it?) and relationships (absolutely not) began and purposefully ended quite some time ago--she was simply moving this dance along by instinct. Therefore she wasn’t at all prone to confessing that she hadn’t spent the holidays with anyone in a very long time, and never by her own real desire. Any actual admissions of these details seemed more than she knew what to do with. And with how Liz may or may not have felt about her? Jennifer wasn’t going to be the one to ask. Much safer to jump through a window and dodge a room full of hostile gunfire, she decided.
“Just a moment.” Jennifer reached for something behind the sofa. Considering how perfect the actual decorations were, she wasn’t too concerned with Liz’s cool response. Instead she grabbed hold of a small radio/disc player and busied herself with finding something that didn’t offset the room. Nothing that made her think of bad Christmas sweaters and too much cheap eggnog, irritating and overplayed carols that she’d heard more from drunken criminals in a holding cell than at any family function. Leaning against the arm of the sofa, the detective, in her rather dashing if somewhat glittery outfit, was content to search until she found the right sort of holiday music.
And there it was, just the barest hint of a grin. Content with what she’d found, Jennifer set the radio onto the nearest table and crossed her arms in approval. Subtle, pleasant compositions that hinted with jazz, tasteful and appropriate enough even for dancing. Not that she was planning on it. Not that the idea had ever crossed her mind at any part of the evening--and definitely not when her gaze settled across the room to take in just how beautiful Liz appeared against the current scene. No, Jennifer was calm and collected and perfectly still. Giving hint to how very content she was in that moment might just ruin everything, and she was careful enough not to risk it.
“A finishing touch,” she responded carefully, a small, quiet smile touching her lips briefly before pulling away again. Maybe, Jennifer thought to herself, maybe for just a small moment in that room, everything was perfect. At least Liz’s ruffled feathers were easy to soothe. She arched a brow when the radio appeared, but this vague expression of surprise settled into a smile in very short order. The music was a nice touch – the perfect finishing touch, indeed. Not the standard cloying Christmas fare, but smooth and jazzy. Liz approved. “You’re absolutely right,” she offered, and her tone had warmed considerably. “Very nice work. Clearly, Seattle PD knew a good problem-solver when they found one.”
She missed Jen’s hands and the general warmth of having her near, and crossed the space that had been created between them in order to get those things back. When she reached for her lady friend, though, it wasn’t just to pull her close again; it was to pull one of Jen’s hands into her own, their fingers twining together, and to settle the other at her shoulder. She had, at some point, promised to dance with her... hadn’t she? Liz couldn’t properly remember, and it didn’t really seem to matter. She wanted to, right then. She wanted the slow, swaying comfort of moving together and she wanted Jen’s warmth near her. It was the sheer volume of holiday spirit they’d created, maybe. Jennifer’s posture was very relaxed as Liz approached, and she didn’t seem to fight it at all when the other woman tugged her close once again. Fingers twined, her other hand placed on Liz’s shoulder--well, there wasn’t any reason to argue. It should’ve been disconcerting, perhaps, that she allowed herself to be pulled along so easily, and enjoyed it so honestly.
“I’d consider it a team effort,” she said after a time. Falling into step to the music was simple, and finding her partner’s rhythm took barely a moment. Jennifer really did pride herself on certain skills, but there was something about this moment in particular that went beyond simple self-confidence. She couldn’t readily think of a name for it. “Honestly,” she added, “I don’t know where I would’ve ended up without you.” Tonight, on this project. Of course. It didn’t need further explanation, did it?
In any case, Jennifer kept up the lead with no small hint of grace and skill. Her hand pressed against Liz’s shoulder moved of its own accord, inching toward her back in an attempt to pull her closer. Indulgent, maybe, but they were alone so what did it really matter? A team effort. Liz moved closer without thinking, the hand on Jen’s shoulder moving to drape comfortably around her neck. Her thoughts had strayed, settling briefly on the memory that had strayed into her head, the one belonging to the detective. The thrill of the chase, the fierce independence of her work. It was directly at odds with the phrase that her lady friend had just uttered. That was disconcerting, or should have been. Just a little, at least. It was difficult to be disconcerted with Jen’s arms around her, though, and their fingers tangled together.
It was the room. Their winter wonderland was obviously very effective. That was it.
“With a much less tasteful tree,” Liz suggested, but there was no cool sarcasm in her voice. It was still warm and quiet, and after a moment she gave up on speaking in favor of leaning in to rest her head close to Jen’s shoulder. Slow dancing. To Christmas jazz. In the middle of a room that they’d both gone to ridiculous expense to decorate, not to mention the time involved... this was not the Christmas of a woman with no connections. She was slipping, clearly. And she thought she would have minded more. “Mm, maybe,” Jennifer agreed, if only for something to say. Liz’s hand sliding up past her shoulder might’ve been enough to discourage further conversation, but the quiet, easy way in which the other woman rested her head on the detective’s shoulder did it in completely. Her timing didn’t falter, her step was sure as ever and she didn’t so much as sag her shoulders at the intimate contact.
The slight shift of her hand, palms sliding together to ensure further contact, was all the response given. Jennifer should’ve been more concerned with the now trivial distance between where Liz rested--too close to the slightly quickening pulse-beat of her heart, the too-thin armor of her vest and shirt not nearly enough for comfort. It was the only hint that could possibly give her away, as Jennifer’s guard was wrought to withstand nearly anything. She was fearless, wasn’t she? Death and danger couldn’t even slow her gait, so what was it that this woman could possibly do that so many others had failed at?
She sighed and allowed the thought to pass. Too much to consider for a pleasant Christmas Eve. “There’s a gift, in my coat,” she whispered after several minutes, voice distant. “A gift?” Liz raised her head at this, shaken out of the quiet reverie she’d fallen into dancing with her lady friend. Again, she blamed the room. They had wrought something magnificent, but the volume of holiday cheer and goodwill and whatnot was obviously crushing. She couldn’t even think of a properly scandalous comment about how she hoped it was a new set of handcuffs – such was the power of their Christmas decorating. “I have yours, as well.” With a soft hum of acknowledgment, Jennifer stopped the dance. The lull of the music and the low light of candles urged her to continue but with a simple step backward, arms pulled back to rest empty against her sides, whatever spell she’d let herself fall into was carefully pushed aside. That was her intent at least, and the growing space between them should’ve renewed her earlier strength of purpose instead of further emphasizing its absence. It was silly and childish, and Jennifer was determined to ignore her desire to simply keep dancing and damn the rest of it. She walked over to the table and removed a small, neatly wrapped package from her coat. “Nothing extravagant,” Jennifer explained, shrugging in a way that belied her thoughts on the matter.
She passed it over to Liz, her gaze wandering somewhere across the room before watching her unwrap it. The paper was simple and understated, the folding precise. Jennifer hadn’t bothered with further adornments, as there wasn’t anything inside other than a book. No handcuffs, nothing remotely scandalous but a very well-cared for French, out of print edition of Jacques Prévert’s Oeuvres Complètes. Just a simple book of poetry with a plain, white cover. Inside, if one were to page through it, nestled neatly between the middle pages, was a rather unorthodox bookmark of sorts. Bent to match the pages around it, worn at the edges and far past a decade old was a personal photograph.
It was an enviable vantage point, high enough above where the streets were nothing but a vague smear of dark colors below the buildings--an unmistakable skyline gleaming painfully against the sunrise. Unrelenting towers of glass and steel burned soft by the reds and golds of morning, color wrapping around everything it touched. Even the fade of time couldn’t dilute the vibrancy of light. It wasn’t the portrait of Georgian houses and wide, sweeping lawns, but the photographer’s sentiment may have once been the same.
Whatever the reaction, Jennifer herself was uncompromised and unreadable as ever--at least on the outside. She merely raised an eyebrow and allowed the scene to unfold. Nothing extravagant. Liz nodded, watching the other woman carefully – the rise and fall of her shoulders, the neutral expression – but she didn't comment. Instead, she took the offered package, unwrapping it with great restraint. There was no torn wrapping paper. Instead, she moved her fingers carefully along the seams of the paper, unfastening the tape and parting it from the package. It was almost... reverent. This was no idle gift to be opened like a child.
It was different. It was, if she were completely honest, the first Christmas gift that she'd ever gotten from a lover that she actually felt anything for. If this had actually occurred to Liz then, she would probably have been far less calm about the entire thing.
The reaction, when it came, wasn't overt. In fact, it was rather small as far as scale. But it was genuine, and memorable if only because it was so honest. Her lips parted slightly when the paper fell away, her fingertips more interested in skimming the cover of the book and then gently flipping the pages. They found the slightly out-of-place gap created by the photograph, and she turned to that place in the book without removing it.
For several moments, she was actually speechless. That was a first, too. Liz wasn't sure that she could form words for a few moments, and then didn't have any idea what words she wanted to form. Finally, she settled on saying nothing at all – instead she stepped forward, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss against Jen's mouth. A soft, close-lipped kiss; the sort of kiss that did not belong on the lips of Elisabeth Keeling as a rule, but seemed to fit there perfectly under the circumstances. As calm as she was on the outside, Jennifer didn’t like waiting through the silence. There wasn’t any use for pacing or hovering--any indication that she cared about the outcome of Liz’s reaction. It was a straight-forward, honest gift, far more honest than she was at all comfortable with. Vulnerability danced across her skin like pin-pricks, and all she could do was silently catalog each subtle expression on Liz’s face.
Expressions that could’ve meant anything really. Jennifer tugged at the leather bracelet around her wrist, avoiding the scar just underneath it. She was preparing for the familiar outcome, when thought and purpose and good intent scrambled into one another and all of it was lost. It was a great surprise then when Liz kissed her. Jennifer leaned down and responded as much as she could, but in that small moment she was entirely surprised.
When Liz pulled away, Jennifer already had a hand on her shoulder, steadying, comforting maybe, but her expression was almost...bewildered. Lips parted, brow slightly furrowed and her eyes searching as if to find the cause of the surprisingly chaste kiss. Was this a favorable response then? Did she like it?
“You’re welcome,” she responded, and this time it was obvious that she meant it. The kiss didn't last long. It was brief and meaningful, and when Liz drew away the very tops of her cheeks were faintly flushed. The pink faded quickly, though, gone almost before the flash of a smile had flickered across her lips. "Thank you," she offered belatedly, responding verbally only because Jen had. The kiss, she thought, said more about what she thought of the gift than she could actually put into real words.
It was another beat before she turned away, the book of poetry clasped carefully in one hand. She slipped it into one of the inner pockets of her coat, and from another removed Jen's gift. It was slightly larger, wrapped in burnished gold paper with some elegant design. Simple. Classy.
The book inside was much the same... simple and elegant, although weathered a little by time. The brown leather binding was soft and supple, worn only from being held – there were telltale marks, the soft smooth spots where delicate fingers had rested again and again, places along the spine where a hand had cradled it familiarly. It was held shut with an old-fashioned buckle, well-made but dulled by age. On the cover, stamped into the leather, were the letters E K. Perhaps once they had been painted with another color, but that had worn away over the years, leaving only the impressions of the letters themselves. Even those were beginning to look a little soft around the edges, but just a little.
The first page bore a date – February, 1694. The book itself was put together with all the care of a dedicated young girl. There were pages with simple drawings, sketches of Georgian manor-houses and hedges cut into the shapes of animals. There were half-written poems, pressed flowers that had been glued very carefully into place (although after so long, their colors had mostly faded away to nothing). There were foreign pieces of paper – letters and notes, both written and received.
And among all these things, pages and pages of neat script, a running commentary on the life that Liz had glossed over when she'd been asked about it in her own kitchen. In the center of a book, tucked into the spine and with its end dangling from the bottom, was a locket – very old, but the shine to the gold said that it had been very recently polished. Jennifer worried about her failing composure--she wasn’t sure whether to blame it on the dance or the kiss or the suspiciously wonderful mood of the room turning her senses into mush. Not that it was too obvious, a small twitch of fingers, a craning of the neck as Jennifer watched Liz remove the gift from her jacket. From the inside, it felt more as if she’d leaped from a rooftop and somehow failed to account for the distance. Falling, falling, nothing but the dangerous sweep of blackness where the ground ought to be. She rolled her shoulders, trying not to stand rigid as she took hold of the gift, her face unreadable.
Her movements were slow and careful as she unwrapped the book in her hands. Distractions in the room were cast aside for this, and she moved a hand across the worn leather, her thumb tracing slowly across the faded but obvious initials. Head bowed, frown etched deeper and her mouth twitching as it tried unsuccessfully to form a question, Jennifer looked very serious as she undid the buckle.
Resting the book against her arm, she turned the pages with every bit of due care. The date was noted and silently filed away. Her fingers danced carefully at the corners of each page, too eager in their desire to run across each slender mark of pen and charcoal and restrained only by Jennifer’s force of will. She wanted to decode this, somehow. She needed to understand just what it meant--this unexpected gift of words and memories cradled now in her arm. The gold chain dangling from somewhere inside caught her attention after a time and she carefully turned toward the middle pages. She reached for it without hesitation, locket nestled safely in her palm, its chain dangling against her fingers. She looked from the necklace to the book in marked hesitation before finally setting the latter aside.
Jennifer turned toward Liz but her eyes kept on the locket, her other hand running along the length of the gold chain in thought. Whatever turmoil the detective had about receiving the gifts went unspoken. Instead, she stepped closer, enough to make the distance between the two women all but insignificant. “You wouldn’t mind?” She asked, dangling the locket carefully between her fingers. Her voice was restrained, but the look in her eyes certainly wasn’t. If Liz wanted her to wear it... Jen was so deliberate, so careful as she turned the pages of the gift; Liz was beginning to think she might pass out. It took her several moments to realize that this was because she was holding her breath, waiting for the reaction to the gift. She would never admit how she'd agonized over this, how she'd wracked her brain to think of something suitable. Truth be told, Jen didn't strike her as a jewelry-and-chocolates sort of woman. She'd considered buying her some outlandishly expensive book of poetry (a first edition, perhaps) but the idea had rubbed her wrong, like a grain of sand in an oyster. Pouring money into a gift didn't make it worth anything – this was the first time that Liz had ever considered such a thing.
She'd considered something cavalier and humorous, but that also seemed wrong, and she rejected it out of hand. She had wanted something serious. Something meaningful, personal. When she'd hit upon the journal, it had seemed like such a good plan – a slice of her life from before, a glimpse into the young woman that had been before there had been a sharp, smooth club-owning siren.
Now, though, she was doubting her own good sense. It was a personal gift, indeed, and inspired a level of anxiety and vulnerability that Liz hadn't been prepared for. She kept having to remind herself to breathe, and not to fidget, and that biting her lip would smear her lipstick. Suddenly her mouth seemed very dry. Why hadn't she thought to bring wine? Alcohol could improve any situation.
"Of course," she answered, and supposed that she was lucky that her lips had provided the words automatically. Her head was still trying to catch up, too busy sorting out whether or not Jen had liked the gift to worry about something so trivial as coherent speech. She reached for the locket, her nimble fingers working the clasp. "I couldn't remember if I'd ever seen you wear jewelry," Liz murmured, speaking just because she couldn't help herself. "But I thought..." “--It’s perfect,” Jennifer insisted, voice deceptively confident. She needed to break this tension somehow, leaning slightly forward with her head bowed low enough to whisper the conviction against Liz’s ear. Her hands found the woman’s slender waist by instinct, a simple touch devoid of innuendo. She waited for the light weight of the necklace to rest against her skin, hair neatly pinned up to avoid the need to pull it back, or move her hands elsewhere. The contact was comforting somehow, and she hoped the sentiment was shared. She did not sigh in relief. She did, however, let out the breath she’d been holding very slowly, very quietly, when the locket was fastened around Jen’s neck. It was old – older even than Liz – but had been very well looked after. “Yes,” she answered when the other woman lifted her head, but she was surveying more than just the necklace – not that she stopped to clarify. There was a lingering moment, where it was nice just to stand close to her lady friend and enjoy the weight of her Jen’s hand on her waist.
“We should get going,” she suggested after that moment. They were, after all, still in someone else’s apartment... and the last thing they needed was JP to come home and find them there.
A very short while later, the apartment was locked back up tight. The ill-gotten key was wiped clean, placed in a plain envelope, and slipped into a pre-arranged place in the lobby. By the time the black car pulled away from Hamartia, all traces of the women were gone... except, perhaps, for a few neighbors who had seen the black-clad crew enter the building and the two women in trench-coats leaving.
OOC Notes: Okay, so for those of you wondering, Nica & Sio didn’t think that any Liz/Jen thread could ever be “cute” and completely devoid of an NSFW warning. We accepted their challenge, and have now pwned them mightily. JEN AND LIZ HAVE CONQUERED ADORABLENESS. NEXT: THE WORLD.