9:45 AM - Jane and Bishop
“Christ, what I wouldn’t give to make this coffee irish,” Jane mumbled, her eyes on the bar. She sighed. “I’m going to get a refill before the sit down stuff starts.” A strange impulse seized her. Jane held out her hand expectantly to Coldiron. “Give me your cup I’ll do yours.”
She continued. “I won’t poison it or anything. Just as long as there no cracks about cops and doughnuts at brunch. Because I’m gonna need to house at least two to get through this thing with my happy face still intact.”
All things considered Bishop thought this conversation had gone a hell of a lot better than it could have. He and Rusten weren’t likely to ever be buddies, but it was oddly comforting to know that when push came to shove they could talk to each other and remain civil. Though if Bishop were really analyzing things, he assumed a lot of their getting along just now had to do with their obvious shared appreciation for Hazel. Oh sure, he still had questions about her earlier remark about Noa, but Bishop knew when to push and knew when to not -- and he felt this was a topic that wouldn’t ever be visited really.
A small uptick of his mouth appeared at her mumbled words about Irish coffee, because in truth Bishop wouldn’t have said no to something like that either. Alas, it was probably for the best that their coffee was black. He didn’t a chance to comment on that though, because Jane was holding out her hand for his cup and he admittedly had been taken off guard by the offer.
“Ain’t going to breath a word of opinion on what you eat, I grew up with three sisters and learned it ain’t something you do unless you want to put your life in danger,” Bishop admitted honestly, finally handing over his glass to Rusten. “Thanks for getting the refill and not poisoning it,” He tacked one, tone slightly amused. “Think this could almost qualify as the sort of interaction Mayor Clarke was looking for.” Which meant they had both done their part, even with their initial skepticism about the success rate of something like this.
Jane considered the purpose of the meeting and Nina’s hopes for it. Setting up and carrying out this coalition of sorts had been an ambitious and hopeful step in a new direction. While Jane had been skeptical (and, for the most part, remained so) she couldn’t fault their mayor for her attempt. One halfway civil conversation with the President of the Hellhounds did not an alliance make but they had shared a cup of coffee without ripping each other’s heads off. Jane knew she and Coldiron weren’t going to hold hands and sing kumbaya anytime soon but at least they had managed the basics of benign human interaction.
“Maybe,” she replied with a noncommittal shrug. Even though he might be right, Jane found it hard to agree with Coldiron. She might always be a contrarian as far as he was concerned but she could at least get him a cup of coffee without spitting in it. If that wasn’t progress Jane didn’t know what was. “I’ll, uh...get this and head back to our table.”
With an awkward bob of her head, Jane peeled herself off the safety of her wall and left Coldiron, his cup in hand. She immediately felt relieved; both to be rid of him after an extended conversation and also that she had managed to do her part in this silly ass brunch. No one could point the finger at her and say she hadn’t done her best.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. If she had done her best, she would have tried to talk to Bunny. She would have tried to explain and apologize what had happened the last time they spoke. She would have asked for her forgiveness and begged for another chance to prove she could be a good friend to her. Still, she had managed a civil conversation with someone she loathed. Maybe repairing a broken friendship wasn’t such an unimaginable feat after all.