The shark, babe, has such teeth

PATRICK FLANAGAN

[He's been avoiding her the entire night, even if he hasn't been able to keep his eyes off of her, but the two glasses of whiskey that he's had has given him a bit of liquid courage, and he makes a decision right then and there, walking straight up to Kat, pulling on her hand and bringing her over to a quiet corner.] What did I do wrong earlier?

KAT JONES

[hadn't seen Patrick, yet. This didn't really seem like his kind of thing anyway. But after what happened between them and her reaction, she wasn't sure she could face him right now. So, maybe it was for the best that she hadn't spotted him. Just as she got comfortable she was being pulled somewhere and if he hadn't been so familiar to all of her senses she would have panicked] Patrick, you can't just- [she looked at him her eyes darting back and forth trying to look at both of his at the same time] Nothing, I- I just had to go and get ready for this...

PATRICK FLANAGAN

[Furrowing his eyebrows, he tries to search for an answer in Kat's face, not understanding anything.] You're telling me that this was more important than- you know what, this tracks. Was your little in-ear piece going off, were you being told to go back to your little FBI crew? I'm surprised your walkie talkie didn't make any noises.

KAT JONES

[this was her own fault. If she could just tell him what happened, then he wouldn't be reverting to this, again. God, she had just managed to see a little of her Patrick again and now she was watching him slip away] Please Patrick, that's not it. [she couldn't help but reach out to touch his hand, still feeling that electricity as her fingers found his] Please don't push me away. [she looked up at him, her eyes pleading]

PATRICK FLANAGAN

[Rolling his eyes, Patrick is so close to giving up, he reaches up and scratches his temple.] Then tell me how this was more important. [He gestures to the room, but she grabs his hand and it catches his attention.] You know, I wouldn't have come here tonight, had you not run out on me like that. I would've- it doesn't matter what I would've done. But I would've spent the night with you alone.

KAT JONES

I know. [And she had known. That was the reason she had left so quickly. It was obvious where they were going and it's what she wanted and she didn't know she was going to panic like that. But she had and now he thinks he did something wrong, when the truth was, it was her. She didn't want him to see her the way that she was now. She didn't want him to see the scars that hadn't been there before. Logically she knew they weren't that unsightly, the surgeons did a wonderful job and they've healed beautifully, but to her, they were the igliest things she'd ever seen and she hadn't quite worked out why she thought that yet.] It wasn't about this party and it wasn't about you, It was me. I wanted to- I want you, but I'm different.

PATRICK FLANAGAN

[He's growing more and more frustrated and impatient by the fact that she's saying so many things, but not actually talking to him. He just stands there, listening to her excuse, and yet again, rolls his eyes. His hand leaves hers, and instead, he leans it up against the wall behind her, caving her in.] Was it more exciting before? When you were working undercover and scoping out all of my deepest and darkest secrets? Did it turn you on, knowing that your team was sitting in a van somewhere on the street, listening in on everything we did? [He knows he is being horrible and unfair, but this is his way of coping.]

KAT JONES

[Had been surprised with Patrick's reapperence in her life. It had led her to do things before she really thought them through, but she should have been prepared for him to hit her where it hurt. Should have known he wouldn't be kind, that he wouldn't hold her hand or pull her close. That there wouldn't be a dozen tulips waiting at her door. He was so close to her and he never felt further away. She was desperate to bring him back to her. She wanted to kiss him and make it right but she knew the same thing would happen. She would panic and she still wouldn't be able to explain it. She just needed a little time to work up the courage to tell him the truth. For now though, she reached up and held his face in her hand, her thumb tracing his cheekbone.] They never heard anything you told me, they were never in those moments. It was always just us, Patrick.

PATRICK FLANAGAN

[All he wants to do is lean in and put his lips to hers, kiss her the way he'd kissed her earlier that day in his classroom. But he doesn't do it; his anger, his frustration is pulsating through his body, and it's enough to keep him from giving in to his primal impulses. Instead, he shakes his head.] You're not different. If what you're saying is true, about you not working for the FBI, then you're not different. There's just nothing in it for you anymore. The thrill of the chase is gone for you, Kat. I'm not going to get you off anymore. Not like I used to, because there's no reward for you to reap afterwards.

KAT JONES

[Hearing him reduce their relationship down to less than nothing for her, made her sad but more surprisingly it made her mad. Removing her hand from his face, she stood up straighter and set her jaw, anger in her eyes now.] Don't you dare tell me that what we had was nothing more than, than a damn adrenaline rush. [It wasn't after that Kat cursed, it felt too harsh to her when she said it, but sometimes it gave the exact right tone.] Something happened to me, Patrick. Something after you and it broke me! [She hadn't meant to get loud or in his face, but she wasn't about to let him say she wasn't in love with him when she was, she is.]

PATRICK FLANAGAN

[He is ready to give up, go back to him ignoring her, avoiding her on campus and walking the other way whenever he sees her, but then she bites back at him, and his jaw clenches. He isn't expecting that, but he also still isn't convinced.] Why won't you just tell me, Kat? [His voice is raised too, and he retracts his arm, standing up straight like her, to match her energy.] Why won't you talk to me?

KAT JONES

Because it isn't easy to talk about, not even to you, maybe especially to you. [She was breathing heavy and then as if on cue, her leg and back started to hurt and she leaned against the wall, trying to hide a wince and failing. It was embarrassing and she felt the flush rush over her face and the more aware of it she was, the worse it got and she started to feel anger again and she wanted it to go away. The pain, the anger, the trauma, all of it. Wanted to see if Patrick could make it go away. Closing her eyes for a moment she took in a deep breath and then exhaled.] This isn't the right time or place to tell you. I just can't tell you in the middle of a bar on Halloween while I'm dressed like a cat.

PATRICK FLANAGAN

KAT checked her Velma bob and glasses before taking her secret pan of brownies out from her desk drawer. Had they been anywhere a student or colleague could see, they would all be gone and she made these for someone specific. Patrick- Professor Flanagan, and she was trying to tell herself they were just a welcome to LA and to teaching pan of brownies. But she knew, and he would probably know, that they were and excuse to see and maybe talk to him. After all these brownies were perfected for Patrick, three years ago. It was a little manipulative but she had already justified it. So, she grabbed the pan and before she could talk herself out of it, she walked to his classroom, thankful her body wasn't in pain as she did. Even though she knew he wouldn't have anymore classes for the day, she still found herself exhaling in relief when he was alone. She knocked, just so he would look up, and walked down to his desk, smiling. God, he still made her heart swell in her chest. And she was so nervous. They had a nice conversation online though, so maybe she was nervous for nothing. "Nice costume." She said light heartedly, the brownies in her hands all but forgotten the second he was in her view.

PATRICK didn’t hear her footsteps at first, too deep in a stack of documents he needed to comb through before his next meeting. It wasn’t until he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye that he looked up, one eyebrow lifting as Kat walked in with a smile. She looked nervous, though she was trying to hide it, and he couldn’t help but let his gaze drift over the costume, down to the pan of brownies she carried. "Kat,” he greeted coolly, sitting back and folding his arms as if she were just another one of his students on the verge of a poor excuse. “Didn’t realize you were the type for office visits." It was a small, careful tease; he was still figuring her out since they reconnected online. “Bringing treats for the faculty, are we?” he said, keeping his voice neutral but laced with enough sharpness that he hoped she’d take the hint. The sight of her here, in his space, tugged up memories he’d worked hard to bury - the casino, the sting, the long nights in lockup. Now, here she was, pretending like a pan of brownies would smooth it all over. The scent of them were...deceivingly delicious though. Sighing, Patrick stood up from his seat, and walked in front of his desk, sitting down on it and folding his arms over his chest. “You look good.”

KAT felt a little bit of that weight lift as he seemed more open to talking to her now. Or at least not actively trying to get away at the sight of her. It wasn't lost on her that she hadn't seem him, even when she was looking for him. She wasn't dumb, he was probably spotting her first and avoiding her. But now his tone was teasing, almost... light, it made her smile at his words. "Well, new faculty, in your department, that teach in this very classroom. Which, turns out, is just you." She knew he probably just wanted her to put the brownies down and leave, she could hear a, don't get too comfortable, behind every word he said to her. She did put the Pan down on his desk, off to the side so they weren't in his way. Her eyes followed him as he moved in front of his desk, closer to her than he had been before, than she thought he would be willing to. It took her by surprise, as he often did. Looking down at herself and all of her orange Velma glory, she smiled at his compliment. "Thank you, so do you." She said shyly. Suddenly, unsure of what she came here to say, he wasn't suppose to be this close, and he definitely wasn't suppose to compliment her like that. Now she was absentmindedly picking at her fingers nervously as she waited for him to take the lead. Like she use to back when all of this between them started. With that same spark, now a low burning ember between them.

PATRICK's eyes narrowed slightly, tracking her every movement. She was standing there, looking down, picking at her fingers like she didn’t know where to begin. It was surreal, seeing Kat with that little streak of vulnerability when she’d once been so unyielding. Calculated, even. A piece of him - the cautious, wary piece that had kept him alive all those years - wanted to see this as some new angle she was playing. He took a slow breath. “Well, welcome to my kingdom then,” he said, his voice edged with a playful drawl. Patrick cleared his throat, glancing at the pan she’d left on his desk, like he was deciding whether he could afford to let his guard down even a fraction. “You know,” he said, voice softening just a touch, “it’s a bit on the nose to start showing up here with brownies - like I’m some fresh-out-of-prison kid you’re trying to sweeten up.” His tone was laced with thick irony as his eyes flicked back to hers, searching, looking for any sign of why she’d come here beyond that worn excuse of a 'faculty welcome.' The old part of him; the part that once trusted her, that thought maybe she could’ve been someone he could count on - surprised him as he reached out and placed a hand over hers, getting her to stop picking at her fingers for just for a moment. “But just so you know,” he said, keeping his hand on top of hers, “I'm keeping that whole pan to myself.” For a moment, he felt that ember between them, that familiar feeling they’d both kept buried, reignite.

KAT felt like they were exchanging a lot of olive branches. It was odd, like neither one of them was sure how to approach a simple conversation with each other. And considering that's how they started, she was a little thrown at both of their inabilities to settle back into that. But then he started to joke and tease in a way that felt more like her Patrick. Like the man she fell in love with and it make her feel more confident to showcase the woman he fell in love with. Sharp, perceptive, and sshe hoped beautiful. Smiling at the irony in his tone, she wasn't quite rid of her nerves but she could feel them dwindling. Then his hand was on hers and the picking immediately stopped and the atmosphere changed, or maybe that was wishful thinking or her imagination. Suddenly, she was filled with a boldness she hadn't had since the last time they were together and she laced her fingers with his, keeping eye contact. Scared that if she didn't he was vanish into thin air because this was a dream and she was going to wake up soon. Desperate to hold onto this moment, to this fanning flame, she stepped closer to him. "Good because you're the only one I made them for." Even though the words were innocent, she didn't feel it. Instead, he breath felt heavy between them and she found her eyes finally moving from his to look down at his mouth and she licked her bottom lip before he eyes returned to his ocean blue onces.

PATRICK felt her fingers lace with his, and for a second, the world seemed to pause. Her touch was warm, a little unsteady, and in that small gesture, he saw a glimpse of everything they’d been before things fell apart. He couldn’t help the way his eyes searched her face, taking in the soft determination there, the spark he’d almost forgotten but had never quite let go of. He let out a quiet exhale, both hands steady but his heart traitorously racing. The way she looked at him, that unguarded gaze, struck something in him he’d tried hard to keep buried. And then her words - 'you’re the only one I made them for' - rang in his ears, cutting through the years of bitterness and mistrust. It wasn’t lost on him that they were both standing on precarious ground here, balancing somewhere between a truce and something else entirely. “Well,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, a mix of amusement and something warmer sneaking into his tone, “I’d almost think you meant that.” He raised an eyebrow, letting his thumb brush across her knuckles, a small, tentative touch he knew he probably shouldn’t indulge in. But he couldn’t stop himself, not when she was looking at him like that, like nothing had ever happened, like they were just them again. The breath between them was heavy, loaded, and he could feel the question hanging in the air - unsaid, but pulling them both closer. His gaze dropped to her lips, but he forced himself to keep that last sliver of distance, his voice barely above a whisper as he said, “You’ve still got that habit of making things complicated, don’t you?” But there was no anger there. Just a low, warm intensity he couldn’t quite hide, a reminder of all the things that had once felt right between them.

KAT forgot the effect that accent had on her when he spoke in that low tone. Instantly, she recognized it, the first time he kissed her he sounded the same. It made it hard to breath, to speak, to hear. All she could do was feel. Each atom she was made up of buzzed. A part of her she hadn't experienced in years had risen from the depths of her essence, at just the soundof his voice. Without her permission, he eyes fluttered closed, just for a moment, as she felt his thumb move across her knuckles. It felt warm, but it wasn't in the air around her, it was from her heart pumping blood to all of her extremities seemingly faster than normal. It was from his touch, it was from his voice. It was from his smell, from his closeness. From him. All she could do was watch him, try to catch every micro expression that crossed his face. Then his eyes dropped to her mouth and she couldn't stop herself from licking her bottom lip, like she was preparing for what she refused to admit she wanted. Not flitching away once she truly felt how close they were, if she just tugged him off that desk, she could have what he body so clearly wanted, what she hadn't known she missed, and craved again. "Only when it's worth it." And there was no mistaking the want in her tone. And she moved impossibly closer, wanting him to pull her the rest of the way in and remind her body of how pleasure felt.

PATRICK's resolve wavered, and that was all it took. Her words - 'Only when it’s worth it' - echoed through him, pulling him into a familiar haze he’d tried to forget. She was so close, her eyes half-lidded, her lips parted, and he could practically feel the heat radiating off her skin. This moment had crept up on him, dragging him back into a past he thought he’d buried deep. But right now, it felt like all those walls he’d built had cracked, leaving him caught in the pulse between them. Slowly, he leaned in, just enough that their breaths mingled, giving her one last chance to pull away. When she didn’t, his fingers shifted, catching her chin lightly, tilting her face toward his. His thumb brushed over her cheek, almost unconsciously, as his gaze dipped to her lips, and without a word, he closed the final inch of space between them. The kiss was slow, almost hesitant, a cautious return to something they both remembered but couldn’t fully trust. His lips brushed hers once, twice, like he was reacquainting himself with the feel of her, testing if this - if they - were real. And then the warmth between them intensified, his hand slipping to the back of her neck, pulling her in as if he were starving for a part of himself he hadn’t even known he’d been missing. He could stay there forever, having missed the particular feeling of kissing her. But he also needed to breathe. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his voice barely more than a murmur. “Do you have anywhere you need to be?"

KAT had always been very good at tucking parts of herself away. So good, in fact, that even she would forget those parts of her self existed. It was what made her so successful undercover, and what kept her in the Bureau for so long. Rarely was she smacked in the face, completely unprepared to be reunited with something she'd hidden. But as her former lover leaned in, so close she could feel his breath meeting hers, she felt an exhilarating chill run down her spine as he made it impossible for her to look anywhere but into his eyes. Finally, his lips touched hers and she hadn't done this in three years. It made her cautious in her movements, not quite sure she remembered how to do this. But she leaned into each kiss, feeling a natural rhythm form between them. As the kiss went from soft and exploratory to something solid and definitive, her hands found their way to his body and she pulled him in as he pulled her in. This isn't what she had come here for, she should stop this, but instead she opened her mouth, inviting him in to deepen the kiss. To remind her of this part of herself, just like he had the first time. But then his lips weren't on hers anymore, and she was breathing heavy, having not even noticed she'd been holding her breath the whole time. As he spoke, her eyes were closed and she was sure he could feel her heart beat in her chest. Every part of her was warm and her lips tingled, like they were trying to memorize what he felt like. "No." She replied breathlessly, pressing her body into his, desperate for more as she draped her arms over his shoulders.

PATRICK's grip tightened at her waist, feeling her press against him with that same unmistakable intensity he remembered. The years between them melted in an instant, replaced by the pull that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface. He’d been certain that time would blunt the edge of it, dull that need - but here she was, breathless and close, a reminder of everything he’d let himself forget. He couldn’t help a low chuckle as he felt her arms wrap over his shoulders. “Careful now,” he murmured, letting his hand trail along her back, fingers pressing gently as if to mark this moment in his memory. “You keep that up, and we’ll be here all night.” His voice held a quiet warning, but it was layered with a warmth he couldn’t quite contain, betraying how much he wanted to keep this moment for as long as he could. She’d been his undoing once, and though the part of him that clung to self-preservation whispered at him to pull back, to let her go before he fell back into the tangle of their history, he didn’t. Instead, he found himself moving in once more, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, letting the softness there remind him of what he’d lost and, for this stolen moment, regained. His hand moved up, threading into her hair as he spoke, his voice rougher than before. “You always did know how to get under my skin.” There was a half-smile in his eyes, one that softened the usual guardedness on his face. “And you’re playing a dangerous game showing up like this, Kat.” But he couldn’t deny the pull between them, and with that, he gave in, letting his lips find hers again, slower this time, like they had all the time in the world.

KAT was overwhelmed by ho it felt to be back in his arms. To be the object of his desire. The way he spoke, the way he touched her. The hand on her back leaving a trail of fire in it's path, while each word sent shivers through her body. The juxtaposition of it all was what was overwhelming. Had it always been like this with them? She hadn't just locked away her desires and fantasies when he went to prison, she'd locked away all of those memories. And for years, she kept it that way. Two weeks of knowing he was simply near and suddenly she had know self control. No ability to hold back, there was maybe still a sense of shyness or caution but it was greatly overshadowed by a wave of want for the man in front of her. As she felt his lips on her she sucked in a breath trying to keep herself upright as his hand move into her hair, and that voice. It sent waves of pleasure through her and it was so distracting that she didn't even notice that little twinge of something in the back of her brain, trying to warn her. But the chorus of moreand yesand please, was so much louder that the whisper trying to warn her that something was wrong. When he finally leaned back in, the warning was completely silenced by the memory of him, all of her kisses and the soft touch, all of the gifts an the lazy morning and the secret office rendevous. All of the intimate conversations, the hours spent memorizing every inch of each other's bodies. All of it was in the forefront of her mind and she put it all back into this moment, into this kiss. It was like overdosing on something you never thought you'd have again. Intoxicating and terrifying. But it was him, she had her Patrick back. With his softness, and tenderness and strength. All that she had been holding back, with just one kiss, she already wanted to give him all of her again. Mind, body and soul. Her fingered threaded in his hair, and she tugged gently, and she pushed her body flush against his, desperate to feel as much of him as she could. "More." She whispered against his mouth.

PATRICK felt the way she melted against him, her whisper of more threading into his mind, threatening to unravel whatever restraint he had left. Each touch, every breath between them, seemed to coax parts of himself he’d sworn to keep buried. She was here, tangible, pulling him in like gravity, and he couldn’t bring himself to resist. Not tonight, not with her hands in his hair, her body against his, and the quiet echoes of memories he’d tried to bury but couldn’t let go. He tightened his hold on her, letting his hand drift down her back, pulling her even closer. The feeling of her fingers tangled in his hair, her body pressed against his, brought him back to those stolen moments they used to share, hidden away from the world. The years and betrayals might have built walls around his heart, but right now, all of it felt like dust at his feet. Leaning in, he pressed his mouth to hers again, hungrily, giving her the 'more' that she asked for, and without another word, he turned her around, pressing her gently but firmly against the edge of his desk. His hands found her waist, sliding up to grip her hips as he leaned in, his body flush against hers, letting her feel every inch of him. He could sense her pulse racing, could feel the way she leaned into him, and it only fueled the fire that had been simmering between them. Pulling away from the kiss, like a magnet, he instantly brought his lips to the curve of her neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her skin before finding her mouth again, this time with more intensity, less restraint. One hand slid up her back, tangling in her hair as he tilted her head just enough to deepen the kiss, tasting the desperation and the familiar spark between them, igniting everything he’d tried to leave behind.

KAT gasped as she felt him switch their positions and firmly push her up against the desk. Her fingers released his hair and she moved her hands to either side of her, bracing herself against his desk and she moaned at the feeling of his hands on her body, his lips against hers, as his body came flush against hers, she chased his mouth for a second as he pulled away. Her disappointment at the loss of contact, quickly replaced with a gasp of pleasure at the feel of his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. How had she gone so long without so much as thinking about this? How had she been able to lock him away in her mind, only letting him creep out in her dreams? How had someone, so all consuming been capable of being tucked away. Then she thought about all the dates she didn't go on, all the kisses she'd sidestepped, all the set up's she turned down. Even more than that, it was all the close conversations she refused to have, all the people she's kept at arms length, all the physical and emotional intimacy she had rejected. It dawned on her, that he had never stopped consuming her, it just looked different. That realization, suddenly had her feeling like he wasn't close enough, and without breaking their kiss, she got up on his desk, most certainly pushing things off in the process and wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him in as close as humanly possible. Her hands came up to tangle in his hair again, her tongue sliding against his. The closer they got, the more that little whisper she had silenced grew. But her senses were so full of Patrick, that whisper was going to have to shout for her to listen.

PATRICK was drowning in her - all the years between them dissolving with every touch, every breath. When she hopped up onto his desk, scattering papers and pens, and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, he let out a low, rumbling groan that vibrated between them. He slid his hands up her thighs, pressing into the warmth of her skin through the fabric, feeling her pulse quicken in rhythm with his own. His mouth crashed back onto hers, more urgent now, his hand sliding from her thigh to the small of her back, pressing her to him as he leaned in, his own breath coming rougher, harder. It was almost surreal, to have her here again like this, feeling her heat against him, tasting her like no time had passed. She was his anchor and his undoing all at once. He could feel her hands in his hair, fingers tangling and tugging, urging him on, and he let himself give in, his mouth trailing down her jaw and back to that sensitive spot on her neck. The sounds she made only pushed him further, like an invitation to slip back into who they'd been before everything went to hell. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as he felt the connection between them spark. He was sure that if she looked in his eyes now, she'd see everything - the heat, the ache, and the raw, unguarded longing he’d buried years ago. He couldn't stop himself from running a hand up her leg, underneath that orange skirt of hers, while the other moved to her front, knowing exactly what body part of hers fit perfectly in the cup of his hand. He wanted her so damn badly, he couldn't help the groan from coming out, low and pleased with what was happening.

PATRICK leaned back in his leather chair, eyeing Hazel over the top of his desk with that quiet intensity that he was known for. Her presence had grown on him more than he'd ever let on, even to himself. She was clever, charming, always anticipating his moves, yet there was a fire about her that he couldn’t ignore. As she stood across the desk, giving him her usual knowing look, he felt the urge to pull her in. He’d never let anyone stick around this long, especially not this close. There was always a risk to letting people in, especially in his world, but somehow Hazel was the exception. Not just because she knew how to keep things quiet or do the job right - anyone could manage that - but because she had a way of looking at him, seeing past that hard exterior and not backing down. “Got a knack for making yourself useful, haven’t you?” he said, his tone softer than usual. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Standing, he walked around the desk, taking his time. When he was close enough that he could smell the subtle perfume she wore, he leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed. She didn’t step back, didn’t falter. “Stay a while,” he murmured, reaching out and brushing his fingers along her wrist. It was a gentle move, one that could be shrugged off if she wanted, but it felt bolder than anything he’d done in years. Tilting his head slightly, he locked his gaze on her, drawing her in. “There's not a whole lot of company that I enjoy these days, but you, Hazel - you’re a rare find.”

KAT looked forward to being called into the bosses office. That sounds a lot more intense then it actually was. Their conversations were stimulating, they were also private and they felt.. intimate. It had been a very long time since she felt so close and open with someone and at first she had to admit, she thought this was just about sex for him and she hadn't been sure what she would do in that case, which ought to have concerned her much more than it did. But then a couple weeks passed and he hadn't so much as alluded to making a move. At least, not that she could tell, so she had grown comfortable. But in this last week she found herself, finding his eyes on the crowded floor, waiting for him to find a quiet moment to invite her to his office just to chat. Often time she forgot this wasn't her actual live and she had a mission. So as she stood in front of his desk today, she figured it would be more of the same and she was glad for their little routine conversations. She laughed at his question, noticing his soft tone and that little smile of his that she sometimes saw when she closed her eyes. Before she could say anything he was right in front of her, arms crossed, a stance she had to learn not to so openly appreciate, by looking him in the eyes instead. Suddenly the mood shifted, and she was looking down and where his fingers met her wrist and it felt like a lightening storm against her skin. Her breath hitched and she looked back up and to be met with such an intense look, she needed a reprieve. Maybe that's why when he spoke again, her eyes moved his mouth, then her mind was back on his finger on her skin, and she did something without thinking it all the way through. A rare occurrence for her, lacing their fingers together she moved in just a little closer. "I enjoy being around you too, Patrick." She could count on one hand the number of times she had used his name and not called him Boss or Mr. Flanagan. But now she looked into his eyes, hers just as intense as his.

PATRICK's pulse skipped at the way Hazel said his name - his name, not "Boss" or "Mr. Flanagan", not some title that kept a safe distance between them. Her fingers were laced in his now, the warmth of her touch stirring something unfamiliar in his chest. It had been a long time since anyone looked at him like that, with an intensity that wasn’t tainted by fear or obligation, but something deeper - something he’d almost forgotten how to recognize. His breath was slower, heavier than usual, and the distance between them suddenly felt paper-thin. Every instinct told him to hold back, to keep things neat, professional - safe. But her fingers were laced in his, warm and delicate, and he didn’t let go. Because he didn't do safe. When her lips parted just slightly, he was drawn in even closer, catching a glimpse of something vulnerable and real beneath her confident exterior. As her words lingered in the air, Patrick couldn’t look away. The controlled walls he kept around him, around this life, began to blur. She wasn’t supposed to matter this much, wasn’t supposed to get under his skin or make him wait on her next breath. But here they were, close enough that he could almost feel her heartbeat in sync with his own. He held her gaze, his thumb tracing slow, idle circles against the back of her hand. “Hazel,” he murmured, his voice softened, laced with a touch of hesitancy he rarely allowed. “I know what we’ve got here - our routine, these little meetings. But I think you know I don’t just call you here because you're a beautiful face.” Her lips were so close, he could feel her warm breath against his skin, and the look in her eyes held something he wasn’t used to seeing - something he never thought he’d have. The silence grew heavier between them, weighted with the tension of words left unsaid, feelings neither dared to name aloud. When he spoke next, his voice was barely above a whisper. “If you stay here, this won’t be something you can just walk away from.”

KAT knew she was walking a dangerous line as in. That even having just stayed that first time to talk to him, not telling her team about their growing relationship, not mentioning a single word to anyway about her time with the crime boss, was putting herself in a position she couldn't simply get herself out of. She was tangled in him. And every place those tangled strings touch was a moment where Kat made a decision that put her relationship with him over her job, over her safety, and out of her comfort zone. Every criss cross, every place she couldn't seperate without ripping the whole thing apart, was a moment of tenderness and intamcy that never should have happened. As she looked at this mental tapestry of tangles she couldn't help but think it was beautiful. As he said her name, she already knew where this was going and had decided before she'd even come into his office that it's exactly where she wanted to be. Where she had chosen to lead herself and despite all logical and rational, she regretted nothing. Not a single choice that got her here. So, as he whispered that last statement, and the tension between them was the highest it had ever been, she found her voice. Low and thick with the desire she had been so meticulous in hiding from him and even herself. "From the moment I first sat down in this office, I chose to stay." With that she put his hand on her waist, a final bold move from her. What happened next was up to him, she had made her choice and made it clear.

PATRICK's heart hammered as her words sank in, each one reverberating with a sense of commitment he hadn’t expected - and certainly hadn’t let himself hope for. ’I chose to stay.’ The words replayed in his mind, a quiet declaration that somehow tore down the last walls he’d held up between them. She’d put his hand on her waist, sealing her choice with that small, steady gesture. His grip tightened just a fraction, a silent promise in response. For the first time in years, Patrick was at a loss for control, and for once, he didn’t mind. She was here, right in front of him, every choice she’d made leading her to this moment. She wasn’t the type to say something she didn’t mean, he knew that now, and therefore wasn’t one to step into danger without knowing the cost. And that knowledge - that she understood the risks, and still, somehow, wanted him - was enough to unravel him entirely. His fingers brushed lightly over her waist, the warmth of her presence grounding him as he searched her face, noting the quiet resolve mingled with an intensity he’d rarely seen.

His eyes flickered between her gaze and her lips, and his hands explored the way waist felt underneath his fingertips. The fabric of her top felt like a fire beneath his touch, and grip on it tightened once again, enough to turn his knuckles white. His hand cupped her cheeks and his thumb ghosted softly over her lips. Those fucking lips, red and full that were inviting him in, like a warm embrace full of affection that he hadn’t felt in many years, and he was terrified that if he looked away, the tug on his heart that he felt would suddenly go away. And all he wanted, was to drown himself in that feeling. But he couldn’t stop himself. He had to search her eyes again for reassurance. Had to know that if this was what she wanted, she would get it. And he found it. He found those deep dark brown eyes that had offered him stability whenever they’d looked at him. The kind of stability that he’d never had before in his life. And here she was, reliant, loyal and wanting him, the way he wanted her. It was enough to have him lean in, his lips finding hers in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, fueled by every unspoken moment between them. He took his time, savoring the feel of her against him, the way he leaned further into his, his hand combing into her hair, needing her.

KAT watched as the man she has craved since the first time he let her in, drop his last defenses to match her own openness. Her own readiness to give into this moment between them. To maybe take this leap together and lose themselves in each other. The stakes were high for them both. They had everything to lose, so much more than Patrick even knew. As his hands on her waist went from almost tentative to something with confidence, she kept her eyes on him. Wanting him to know that she saw him, all of him, even the pieces he tried to hide. and she wanted him. Then his hand was on her cheek and her breath was staggered and her heart rate was erratic, and wondered if this it what it felt like to get high. If it was possible to be addicted to a person. What would she do if she couldn't see him everyday, if she never felt his thumb brush over her lips again. God, she needed him to close the distance between them, so when he searched her eye for non verbal consent she gave it. And what she saw in return was a mirror of want and need and desire and she knew he was going to lean in before he did. Yet, she still let out a soft moan as their lips moved together. Finding a natural rhythm just like they did in everything else. It was more than she had imagined in her dreams, in those moments before where she thought she could lean in and finally know what it would feel like. In those it was quick and sweet, or bruising and desperate, but this was... this was passion, this was intimate, this had her whimpering at the feel of his fingers against her scalp. Now that they had crossed this line, her brain just wamted more. Wanted everything he could give her. Feeling her body's need for air, she pulled away, reluctantly and breathed heavily. Her hands rested on his chest and she smiled, looking up at him, her hands coming up to his neck, he thumbs just under his jawbone, she connected their lips again with urgency.

PATRICK felt her hands slide up to his neck, her thumbs pressing gently beneath his jaw, and as she did so, the last remnants of his restraint dissolved. The intensity in her eyes - mixed with her urgency as she pulled him back in - ignited something deep in his chest, a desire that had been building quietly beneath all their stolen glances and guarded conversations. He responded to her kiss with the same urgency, his fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer, pouring into the kiss every unspoken word, every risk he’d been unwilling to take until now. The taste of her, the feel of her warmth pressed against him, was addictive in a way he’d never anticipated. He’d never been one for reckless choices, not in his line of work, where one wrong move could cost him everything. But this - her - was different. She’d seen him, rough edges and flaws, and chosen to stay. Somehow, that made him feel both vulnerable and alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years. When he finally broke the kiss, his breath mingling with hers as they hovered close, he brushed his fingers down her spine, pausing for a moment to steady himself. The gravity of what they’d started weighed heavy between them, but he didn’t care about the risks right now; he’d decided, without a word, that he wanted her with him, whatever that meant. Looking down at her, his voice dropped to a murmur. “You know, you’re making it damn hard to remember why I kept you at arm’s length.” He held her gaze, searching her eyes for any flicker of hesitation. “Tell me, Hazel,” he said, leaning down until their lips were just a whisper apart. “If I ask you to stay tonight, would you?” The question hung heavy in the air, a promise and a plea all at once, and he waited, hoping that, just maybe, they were both ready to take this step together.

Patrick Flanagan

[With a glass of whiskey in hand, Patrick looks around the crowded room and spots Midge. He smirks slightly as he walks over to her.] I'm surprised to see you still standing after yesterday. 

Midge Wilde

[Eyes widening slightly] It’s no easy feat, trust me. [pointing lazy at his horns] Those might fit a little too well, don’t you think? What’s that Taylor Swift line? ‘He looks up grinning like a devil’?

Patrick Flanagan

[A pleased smirk grows on his face.] Let me know if you need any support. [He gestures with his hands to her ass.] I don't know who that is, but I approve of that line. Is he a poet, or something?

Midge Wilde

[Letting out something resembling a chuckle] An elevator is one thing, but a crowded bar filled with your colleagues and my siblings is a bit much, even for me. [Laughing genuinely] She’s a singer. [Stepping closer] Don’t worry, though, I’m wearing panties tonight, last night was a special occasion just for you.

Patrick Flanagan

Yeah, you're right, we've got a few other places to build up that kind of trust, before I fuck you senseless in a bar with people who know us. [He grins and takes a sip of his whiskey.] Oh? [His eyebrow lifts.] That's a shame. But I do enjoy that that's just something you for me now. [He looks her body over, easy to check up on her skin in that costume of hers.] No marks or bruises from the iron bars then?

Midge Wilde

Sounds like you have plans, I can’t wait to hear about them. [Tilting her head] It’s something I can do for you regularly if that’s what you want. [Trying not to shiver under his stare] None so far, maybe next time you should try branding me. [Reaching for his hand and placing a kiss to his palm before smelling his fingers] Mmm, still smells like me, am I just too good to wash off?

Patrick Flanagan

Oh, you have no idea. [He smirks at her, keeping his blue eyes connected on hers.] Is it now? What on earth did I do to deserve that kind of special treatment? [Stepping in closer, he can smell her perfume.] Maybe I should. [His smirk fades as she kisses his hand and a shiver runs down his spine.] I figured you'd be too sore for me to call you this morning, when I kept thinking about you and all the noises you made yesterday, so the scent of you, and my other hand would have to do. [He leans in, his lips brushing against her earlobe.] You're so fucking delicious, Midge.

Midge Wilde

[Not fighting the shiver this time] Well, throwing my legs over your shoulders in an elevator may have gained you a few points, but maybe I just like you having quick access. [Resting a hand against his chest, for stability, or to keep a safe distance, she didn't know] My mouth isn't sore, you could have called her up. Those noises might have been a bit more muffled, but I bet you still would have liked them. [Letting out a shaky breath.] Is that why you look so hungry right now?

Patrick Flanagan

And that's the kind of effect you have on me, I hope you're aware of that. [He feels the fire from her small hand on his chest radiating through his entire body.] I'll keep that in mind for next time. Because trust me, this is a regular occurrence. [His lips are ghosting over her neck and he takes in her scent, from her perfume to her shampoo, and nods.] Is it that obvious?

Midge Wilde

I didn't know I had any kind of effect on you, Patrick, I thought you were so in control all the time that you were this way with everyone. [Letting her hand slip down his midsection a few inches] Is that a threat or a promise? [Tilting her head further to the side to give him more access to her neck] Maybe not, I think I'm just starting to read you a little bit better. But I don't want to freak you out by saying that, so maybe you'll just have trust me a little bit now.

Patrick Flanagan

[He looks down at her hand and smirks.] You've seen the tent in my pants each time we've been together, Midge, don't play coy with me now. [He takes the last sip of his whiskey, his arm snaking around Midge's body so he can set the glass down, proceeding to trap her between the table and his body.] It can be both, if you let me. [Chuckling quietly against her skin, he proceeds to pull back slightly.] It takes more than that to freak me out, don't worry. But I have no doubt that you're able to come up with a few good ideas to get me to trust you now.

Midge Wilde

[Laughing softly, and nodding] Well, if that's what you mean, then I have that effect on most men, but most don't dare to try and eat me alive in public. [Not able to stop the quick moan as he presses her into the table] You don't play fair, do you? [Meeting his eyes] What makes you think I deserve your trust?

Patrick Flanagan

[He grins at her laughs, and shrugs his shoulders.] I did tell you that you're fucking delicious, Midge. I'm not the type of guy who holds back on something I like. And I like the taste of you, a lot. [He looks into her eyes.] I'm not knowing for fair, Midge. I'll just disappoint you if you believe that. [His smirk fades, and his eyes roam over her face.] Because you're reading me like an open book, when I'm trying my hardest to remain closed. I don't know how, but somehow, you've managed to do what not a lot of people have before.

Midge Wilde

You sure you don't say this to all the girls? [Her smirk looking more confident than she felt] I never suspected you'd play fair, don't worry. And if I had I would have known better after last night. [She felt the same fear she'd described to him that first day in his bed returning to her at his words, causing her to look away from him, her eyes fixed on the ground now] Do you ever think...[She paused, wondering why her mind was even moving in this direction] Do you ever think maybe being a shitty person gives you an edge over the people who are better than you? Maybe that's why I can read you, because you're a better person than me.

Patrick Flanagan

[He rolls his eyes and smirks at her growing confidence, his hand moving to her lower abdomen, gently pressing her back against the table as he leaned in again.] I say it to every girl. [He's teasing her, pulling back again, to show her that cheeky smirk of his. He hears her hesitation, his eyes raking over those features of hers, and growing slightly worried about what's coming next. He then scoffs.] I don't think you understand what it means me be a shitty person. There are things you will never know about me, and what I have done before, because it makes you a million times better than me.

Midge Wilde

[Wanted to take his words as a joke, but it was too easy for her to feel expendable to muster more than a fake smile. She can’t help but wonder what he means, but knows that her own past isn’t exactly a field of wild flowers.] You don’t know that, the good girls aren’t the ones letting men who are practically strangers fuck them in an elevator, are they? [Standing up straighter] Maybe I should go, sorry for killing the mood.

Patrick Flanagan

[He licks his lips as he watches Midge's mood dampen, and he grabs her hand gently, hoping it grounds her enough to catch her attention.] I've already shared more with you, than I have with 99% of the people in my life. And that one percentage was my mum and my ex, Midge. Don't put yourself down like that.

Midge Wilde

[Frowning, trying not to let her mood sour everything.] Look, I know I made the joke first, but I don’t do well with jokes about being like every other girl. I know that’s not fair, but it’s a sore spot for me. [Biting her lip as she considered the rest of what he had to say, her hand cupping his cheek] You should let me plan our next night out, if you’re still interested in spending time with me, that is.

Patrick Flanagan

[Looking into her eyes, he can see the gears turning in her head. He's not scared of being rejected, but he likes spending time with Midge. So when she cups his cheek, he clenches his jaw, but nods after a moment.] Just say the word. I'll be there.

Midge Wilde

[Feeling him tense under her touch she pulled her hand away.] I should go, before I ruin your impression of me even more, but I’ll plan something, I’ll let you know.

Patrick Flanagan

[He feels her pull her hand away, and he sighs, but his hand that's holding hers pulls her back, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to her cheek.] I mean it. I'll always be here. For you.

Midge Wilde

[She should be walking away, but feels herself stopping, staring at him for a moment longer than she maybe should] Why? Why me? Why be here for me, or share anything with me?

Patrick Flanagan

[There is no hesitation from Patrick, after hearing Midge's question. He knows exactly what to answer.] Because there's more to you than the 15-year old selling pictures to men; there's more to you than just getting fucked in an elevator; there's more to you than just someone I'm fucking. The sex, while at first was just sex, it's changed now. Getting to know you more and more, the sex has become about trust. And I like that trust. I only have that with you. I'm not willing to give up on that and whatever it might become.

Midge Wilde

[Understood immediately why she was afraid of him, but that didn’t stop her from leaning forward to press her lips to his, just for a second before pulling back] Okay. Then how about Saturday? I’ll come over and cook for you, and we can keep working on this whole trust thing, okay?

Patrick Flanagan

Midge

It wasn't really like Midge to go out on a date, she did occasionally go on dates, but it wasn't frequent, but at least when she did, she knew it was a date. She still had no clue what this was, but she knew she was nervous, more nervous than she'd ever been for a date before, which didn't help with the confusion. She'd taken an uber to meet Patrick where he'd asked, not sure of the parking situation or the plans for the night, she didn't want to have to worry about her car. Midge smoothed her dress out nervously, worrying that she looked good, another thing she never really cared about before, she usually just knew she looked good and didn't bother to be concerned. Finally, she stepped from the uber onto the curb, her eyes wandering as she looked for Patrick, trying not to let her nerves show through.

Patrick

Patrick waited outside the Bradbury Building, leaning against the ornate iron gate, his posture casual, his eyes sharp. The architecture wasn’t what caught his attention - he’d seen it a handful of times before. Tonight, he was more focused on the shadows, on the steady flow of people in and out, and, most importantly, on keeping his nerves in check. This wasn’t a date; he wasn’t supposed to be nervous. Still, a thin thread of unease tugged at him, and he had to remind himself to stay cool. He saw her the moment she stepped out of the Uber, and despite his usual restraint, a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. She looked almost uncertain, her eyes tracing the building’s arches like she wasn’t sure if she was at the right place. That hint of vulnerability made him want to go to her, offer a steadying hand, but he stayed rooted where he was, letting the distance settle between them like a buffer. “Right on time,” Patrick finally spoke up, wanting to get her attention. His tone was light but his eyes serious. He pushed off the gate and moved closer, his gait deliberate, relaxed. “You look beautiful,” He said, leaning in and pressing a kiss right under her jaw. Dangerous territory, but not dangerous enough to look suspicious. The guard at the front desk paid them little mind as Patrick led her to the elevators, the ones with those vintage iron grates.

Midge

Her eyes scanned the area again, but she couldn’t help but jump when she heard his voice, causing her to shake her head, only slightly embarrassed. Midge stayed where she was, allowing him to come to her and allowing herself to take in the site of him. He was insanely attractive to her, and the way he kept her off balance only added to it. Midge's breath hitched in her throat as he kissed her, her hands resting against his chest, “You don’t look half bad yourself,” she returned, though she wanted to crawl into her shell at the cheesiness of her own words. She let Patrick lead her, trying to appear calm and in control of herself but she truly had no idea what to expect out of this situation. 

At the sight of the elevator, she felt her heartbeat quicken, she knew what she’d agreed to when meeting him here, but somehow this seemed more dangerous than she’d realized. The building didn’t seem that tall, so surely a single elevator ride wasn’t enough for him to actually fuck her? And yet, she had a feeling she was in for some surprises. Midge ran her fingers along the design of the iron gates, her mind not able to stop the imagine of him pressing her up against them. She looked from them to Patrick’s eyes, trying to read anything in his stone cold expression, but he was so in control of himself all she could see was his set jaw, his eyes that seemed to see directly into her mind, and his mouth that she had to admit she’d thought about quite frequently the last few days. “So, what now?” She finally asked, looking up at him and waiting for him to guide her further.

Patrick

Patrick watched her run her fingers along the iron gate, the intricate curves and flourishes seeming to hold her attention. He couldn’t help the way his gaze followed the movement, slow and deliberate, like she was trying to decipher some hidden message in the cold metal. Midge had that effect - drawing him into her thoughts, making him wonder what went on behind those wide, uncertain eyes. It wasn’t something he let happen easily, or often. Her question hung in the air between them. It was a test, a moment where he could either maintain his carefully curated control or let himself slip into something deeper. Patrick knew which option was safer, which one he should choose. But something in her voice - soft but steady - made it harder to just stick to his usual script. Patrick let a small, almost imperceptible smirk tug at the corner of his mouth as he stepped closer. He placed his hand on the gate, just above hers, feeling the cool iron under his palm. The elevator was their quiet little world now, and he liked that - being removed from everything else, away from eyes and expectations. It felt more honest, somehow. “You’re thinking too much,” he said quietly, his voice low and gravelly. It wasn’t a reprimand; more of an observation.

Patrick leaned in, letting his lips hover just over her ear, close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin. “We’re gonna take this one step at a time,” he murmured, his voice a smooth rumble. His free hand came up to rest at her waist, fingers spreading just enough to feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her dress. “Starting with this,” he continued, his thumb brushing her hip in a deliberate, measured stroke. He pulled back, just enough to look her in the eyes, making sure he had her full attention. He raised his other hand, resting it gently against her cheek. It was a rare gesture for him, but one that he actually enjoyed. Tilting her chin up slightly, he waited to see if she’d pull away. When she didn’t, Patrick leaned in and closed the distance between them, capturing her lips with a deliberate slowness that bordered on agonizing. He wasn’t in a hurry - he wanted her to feel it, to understand that this was more than just an impulsive moment. His hand tightened at her waist, fingers curling into the fabric as he deepened the kiss, coaxing her to respond. The ding of the elevator and the loud noise of it landing on their level had him pull away slowly, and a self-satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Now,” he said quietly, his voice a bit rougher than before, “we get in the elevator.”

Midge

She watched as his hand gripped the iron above hers, her eyes only meeting his again when he spoke, causing her to nod in agreement. She was thinking too much, her mind was going in 8 different directions at once. But then his breath was on her skin, and his hand was on her hip and mind seemed to all snap together at once and shut up. She felt like she was under a spell, and as thumb brushed against her hip, it rocked forward to meet his touch, her whole body was already craving him and he had barely touched her. She kissed him back, though she tried not to be too eager, she was sure he must have felt how badly she wanted more of him. When his grip tightened she couldn’t help but to let out something close to a whimper, the sound practically begging for more on its own. 

Her face was hot when he spoke again, the distance between their lips brought her back to reality and she remembered where they were. Midge stepped into the elevator silently, moving to lean against the far wall. The antique floor of the elevator felt solid underneath her feet, but the same couldn’t be said for her legs that felt shaky as they struggled to hold her up.

Patrick

Patrick followed her into the elevator, closing the iron gate with a deliberate click that seemed to echo in the enclosed space. He liked the feeling of being in control here, the way the heavy metal separated them from the rest of the world, leaving just the two of them in this narrow, intimate space. But even with that sense of control, he couldn’t ignore the way his pulse quickened at the sight of her leaning against the far wall. There was something so intoxicating about her uncertainty, that quiet vulnerability she tried so hard to keep hidden. He could feel the tension between them, taut and humming, and it pulled him in like a magnet. As the elevator started its slow ascent, he kept her close, his hands resting at her hips, steadying her. He leaned in, brushing his nose against hers. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.” 

The elevator slowed to a stop, and Patrick felt her tense slightly in his grip. He knew he had to be careful now, had to keep the atmosphere from slipping into something too serious, too heavy. So he did what he was best at - he shifted the tone, leaned into the moment without letting it get too real. With a small, mischievous smile, he kissed her again, slower this time, taking his time. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as his hand slid up her side, fingers brushing against her ribs. He could feel her body, the way she was breathing through the fabric, and he allowed the feeling to surge through his fingertips for a moment, before pulling away from the kiss. His other hand found the panel of elevator buttons behind Midge, and as he opened his eyes, he smirked and hit the “STOP” button, causing the elevator to abruptly pause its trip. Bending down, he grabbed onto her ass and lifted her up, pushing her back against the iron bars behind her and diving in to leave kisses on her neck, her pulse beating under his lips.

Midge

His words were like a spell, when he told her to relax, she did. Not fully, of course, she didn’t think that was possible, but she let her body relax into his. She reminded herself that as much as he was in control, she was, too. She could stop this at any time, but she was supposed to trust him, so she let herself do just that. Her hands clung to him, feeling the muscles in his lower arms as she took in the scent of him. 

She let him lead, kissing him back, her hands moving to his midsection as his own explored her body over her dress. She watched as he pulled away, her eyes widening when it stopped, but she couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. She let out a moan at the feeling of his lips on her neck, her legs spreading to wrap around him now that he held her. She was reminded of choice not to wear anything under her dress suddenly by the feeling of her own wetness on her thighs. Midge’s arms wrapped around his shoulders now, one hand moving up to tangle into his hair as he kissed her, her hips grinding against his. She wanted more of him, but she was stuck going his pace, and every second that he took to move things along felt agonizing, and incredible, and forced her to give up the control that she was so used to.

Patrick

Patrick felt her body respond to him, the tension slowly unraveling beneath his hands as she leaned. It was a subtle shift, the kind you could only notice if you were paying close attention - and Patrick always paid attention. It wasn’t just about control; it was about reading the moment, knowing when to push and when to pull back. Right now, he was pushing her limits, seeing how far she’d let him lead, where her trust ended, and feeling that subtle resistance fade was enough to make him want more. But he kept himself steady, reminding himself that this was all part of the dance. His grip on her tightened, feeling the way her legs wrapped around his waist. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the way she was already arching into him, seeking more. “Easy,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. He could feel her grinding against him, her breath hitching with every movement, and it was taking all his restraint not to lose the careful control he prided himself on. 

Her laughter - a nervous, breathless sound - was unexpected, almost disarming. It made him pause, eyes narrowing as he glanced at her face, trying to decipher what she was thinking. But then she moaned as he kissed her neck, her hands clinging tighter, and whatever hesitation he had melted away. She was just as caught up in this as he was. His voice was rough when he continued, his words edged with a quiet urgency. “I’m not done with you yet.” He could feel the warmth of her skin, the way she seemed to tremble under his touch, and it made it that much harder to keep his resolve. But he didn’t rush. Not yet. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over hers without fully committing to the kiss, just enough to feel the way her breath mingled with his. It was maddening, knowing she wanted more and holding back anyway. “Trust me, remember?” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the small space between them as his hand started a journey to move between her legs to feel just how wet she was for him.

Midge

Every move he made had her head spinning, she wanted so badly to get her feel back on solid ground, take control by dropping to her knees in front of him. But that wasn’t the point of this, he was in control and she was meant to trust him, even though the slowness and deliberateness of every move he made seemed to wind her up further. Even just stopping herself from deepening the kiss took so much self control. Midge leaned her head back against the bars behind her, nodding at his words. 

Midge let out another quiet moan as she felt his hand between her legs, again, resisting every urge to grab it with her own and speed things up. Instead she felt her breathing grow faster, as if the anticipation of him touching her was enough to send her over the edge. “Please, Patrick,” she finally whispered, lifting her head again to meet his eyes, “I need…” but she didn’t know what she needed. She needed this to continue, she needed him to touch her, she needed anything but she shook her head, reminding herself to let him lead.

Patrick

The sound of her soft moan hit Patrick harder than he’d anticipated, sending a ripple through his usual stoic composure. There was something in the way she was surrendering to him, the way she was struggling to hold herself back, that made him feel both powerful and unexpectedly vulnerable. He hadn’t expected her to fall into this dynamic so seamlessly, or to crave him so openly. And the way she whispered his name, that quiet 'please' - it made him feel as though he was holding more than just her body in his hands. His fingers trailed over her skin, barely brushing against her clit, deliberately keeping her on the edge. It would be easy to give her what she wanted, to rush and take everything she was offering. But Patrick liked that this was challenging her, pulling her out of her own head and into his rhythm. It wasn’t just about control; it was about trust, and as much as he held the reins, he was keenly aware of the way she was giving him something beyond just her desire. 

He leaned in close, so close that his breath was warm against her ear, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “Hm?” he hummed against her lips, biting down on her lower one softly. “What do you need, Midge?” His hand stayed steady between her legs, not moving, just a reminder of his presence. He watched her expression, the flicker of uncertainty and desire, the conflict between wanting to be in control and wanting to surrender to him completely. He didn’t wait for her to answer; he could see she was grappling with the words. Instead, he moved his hand back onto her ass, lifting her up and placed her legs over his shoulders, his face burying beneath her dress, so he could finally give her something; but selfishly, his mouth was also watering in desperation to taste her juices on his tongue. His lips wrapped around her clit and his tongue started working on her core, knowing exactly how risky this was, at a place like this.

Midge

Her body rocked against his hand, searching for more contact from him, but his hand was steady against her. Midge’s eyes slammed shut again when he bit at her lip, forcing herself not to fall apart completely at his words. She didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter, he was moving her again, lifting her higher, and all she could do was grip the iron gate behind her now that his shoulders were underneath her legs. 

She didn’t bother to hold back the moan that escaped her when she felt his lips on her clit, she didn’t think she could have controlled it even if she had wanted to. They hadn’t been in this elevator long and yet it seemed like an eternity of her wanting him so badly. She looked down, seeing he was covered by her dress and dared to pull it up around her hips. She wanted to see him devouring her, like watching a lion circling its prey before pouncing. She didn’t often feel like the prey in these situations, not ever, really but clearly this was different. She let her hips grind toward him just barely, not wanting to change the pace but not being in full control of her body at the moment.

Patrick

As Patrick held her there, watching her body shudder under his touch, he felt a surge of satisfaction that went beyond the physical. He was starting to understand that it wasn’t just about having her; it was about the way she gave herself to him, surrendering her trust bit by bit. That flicker of control she handed him had a way of getting under his skin, rattling his resolve in ways he hadn’t expected. He felt her hips pressing forward, seeking more contact, more of him, and for a moment, he just let her need take him in, let her response drive him deeper into this relentless, teasing rhythm. His hands gripped her thighs, steadying her against the ironwork, feeling the flex of her legs and the way her body pulsed with anticipation, each sound she made pulling him along like a magnetic force he couldn’t quite resist. 

When she looked down, lifting her dress to meet his gaze, he gave her a sly smirk, his breath warm against her skin as he pressed his mouth back to her. Patrick’s voice was low as he broke away just enough to murmur against her skin, “You don’t know how you look right now, do you?” His words came out more genuine than he’d meant them to, a trace of wonder mixing with the edge in his tone. He knew he was testing her, that this pace was slower than she wanted, but that was exactly what he enjoyed. Watching her squirm, feeling her fall apart beneath him while he stayed in control - it had him hooked. He moved his hand up, pressing his thumb just barely against her, matching her own rhythm as she rocked forward, grinding against him. “If you can keep quiet, we might actually get away with this,” he added with a playful tilt in his voice, though he didn’t mind if they were found. The risk added a dangerous thrill, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

Midge

She didn’t know how much of this she could take, but something told her Patrick was far from done, that he planned to explore every inch of her before giving her what she truly craved. A few more moans fell from her lips as he let her rock her hips pushing her clit toward his thumb, even if it was barely enough pressure. She clamped her mouth shut when he spoke again, her moans turning into quiet whimpers now. 

More than anything she wanted to beg for him, she wanted him so badly she could barely keep her breathing under control. Maybe this was what he meant, pushing her until she broke by her own choice, because she felt like she was about to snap. “Please, Patrick,” she whimpered again, her voice barely above a whisper, “I need you, I need you to fuck me. I can’t take anymore, this is torture, tell me what you want me to do or say and I’ll do it, but I need you to fuck me right now.”

Patrick

Patrick let out a low, amused hum at her desperate pleas, her words ringing with a hunger that mirrored his own. The way she whimpered his name, teetering right at the edge, was too tempting, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t test his own restraint. With her legs draped over his shoulders, her body rocked to his rhythm, he felt each tremor, each subtle shift as she chased more of him. He held her firmly against the iron bars, his grip steady as his mouth continued its slow, torturous work. He heard her pleas and felt the tension radiating through her, a mix of frustration and raw desire. For a moment, he let himself revel in it, watching her eyes widen, her breath ragged as she clung to his control - and he knew he was walking a tight line himself, feeling the pressure behind his closed pants. 

Her pleading hit him, and he couldn't get enough of it. Selfishly, he needed her too. So he leaned back, his arms bringing her back on the ground, before he started unzipped his pants and reached in for his hard cock. "Be a good girl for me," Patrick started, grabbing her leg and lifting it up, so he could have much better access to entering her. "And be quiet," he warned her, though he'd appreciated the fact that she'd managed to whisper. He pushed through her folds, a deep and low groan sitting in his throat as he started to feel her tighten around him. "God, you feel amazing." He leaned in, a hand cupping her cheek as he captured her lips in a hungry kiss.

Midge

She gasped when he put her down. Midge didn’t know what to expect next, but she was almost sure that her begging would just encourage him to tease her further, and yet, it seemed like he was giving her what she wanted. The realization clicked into place that this wasn’t about him being in control, it was meant to be about trust, and he was showing her that she could trust him to give her what she needed.

Looking down, she groaned at the sight of his cock, her desire growing even deeper, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips. Later she would find a way to get that cock in her mouth, but right now she needed it somewhere else. Letting him position her she met his eyes when he told her to be a good girl, wondering if he knew just how much of a turn on it was for her to be called that. She gasped as he entered her, her head lolling back against the iron gate again, her whole body adjusting to the feeling of being so completely filled by him. Midge looked at him, grateful for the kiss, her own mouth opening against his so she could let out a muffled moan. Rocking her hips in rhythm with his she could tell that she was already close to an orgasm after all of the anticipation, but she needed to hold out long enough for him to be ready too. Midge grabbed his hand that cupped her cheek, pulling it towards her mouth, “help me stay quiet,” she said, her voice still sounding like he was begging, as she wrapped her lips round two of his fingers, pulling them as far into her mouth as they’d go, using them to clamp her tongue down, to gag herself.

Patrick

Patrick felt a pulse of satisfaction as Midge took his fingers into her mouth, her lips tight around them, muffling her sounds as she moved in sync with him. He hadn’t expected her to trust him so willingly, to let herself be so open and vulnerable in his hands. And watching her now - eyes glazed, breath labored, her body pressed so perfectly against him - only made him want her more. “Good girl,” he murmured lowly, his voice almost a rumble as he kept her pinned between his body and the iron gate, steadying her every arch and sway against him. He’d been set on control, pacing things deliberately to keep them both on edge, but her trust shifted something in him. Her fingers tight around his hand, the soft pressure of her lips against his fingers, and the way her body shivered with every movement made him want to give her everything she’d been begging for and more. 

He rocked into her steadily, feeling her walls around him, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers as he picked up his pace, his voice rough with desire. His nose rubbed against hers and he groaned as the feeling of her lips around his fingers, and her walls around his hard member sent waves of pleasure straight into his abdomen. “Let go for me, Midge. Don’t hold back.”

Midge

‘Let go for me,’ those words echoed through her as she did exactly what he told her to. There was barely room between him and the iron gates but her back arched as she pushed against him, her eyes rolling back as an her orgasm swept through her. Her leg on the floor felt like it could give out at any moment, but trusted him to keep her steady. She moaned against his fingers, her other hand gripping him tighter as her nails dug into the back of his hand. She could feel her walls pulsing around him as she came undone. She was losing control, unable to muffle the sounds she made or hold her body steady, and she wanted to feel him come inside her more than anything. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity her body began to relax against the iron gate again, her moans turning into soft whimpers as she opened her eyes to look at him again. Midge sucked on his fingers one last time, as if cleaning herself off of him before removing them from her mouth so she could kiss his palm again, then leaned forward to capture his lips in hers, before finally, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder. Her whole body felt limp, spent, used up, and all she could do was try to catch her breath against him.

Patrick

Patrick felt her body convulse around him, her moans vibrating through his fingers as he held them to her lips, and it sent a powerful surge through him. The restraint he'd maintained - the control he clung to so fiercely - began to dissolve as her body softened and gave in to him. She let go entirely, her movements and sounds tugging him right to the edge. As her back arched, pulling him deeper, Patrick’s own body reacted. Her pulsing warmth was more than he could resist. He gripped her tighter, leaning in to kiss her neck, his breath coming harder now as he lost himself in the feeling of her surrender. The slow, deliberate rhythm he’d held onto broke, and with a low, guttural groan, he released, pressing against her as he buried himself completely. For a brief moment, he let go - no teasing words, no barriers, just the raw, intense pleasure of the moment. 

They both fell still, their breaths heavy and mingling in the quiet. His forehead came to rest against her temple as he worked to steady himself, every muscle in his body relaxing as he came down from the high. He held her close, letting the silence settle between them, allowing himself the rare, quiet moment without the need to pull away. Finally, he lifted his head, smirking slightly but with a glimmer of something more. “You were such a good girl for me,” he murmured, his voice soft as he brushed his fingers along her jaw before slowly lowering her leg. His hand lingered on her hip, steadying her, not quite ready to let her go even as they came back down to reality. “What do you say we go and get something to eat?"

Midge

She was certain she could live in this moment for an eternity, feeling so completely satisfied, but as he lifted his head, she knew it would have to end. Midge smiled when he spoke, not fighting the blush on her cheeks when he called her a good girl again, God, she really was under his spell. She found her footing, nodding when he mentioned dinner, she needed to eat after that. She didn’t let go of him quite yet, though, instead she kissed him, letting her lips linger just a few seconds longer than she needed to, “Just call me your good girl one more time, please?” She asked, finally pulling her lips away. “Then we can go.”

Patrick

PATRICK sat at his desk, head in his hands. It was aching, after a long phone call across the ocean with his boss. His jaw was clenching and he was pissed. Delivering so many drugs in such a short amount of time was going to be a hopeless task and he knew it. Behind him, the flashing neon lights and the heavy traffic of Las Vegas was buzzing through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and he sighed to himself, lifting his head up. What a fucking prick, Patrick thought to himself about his boss who was sitting comfortably back in Scotland, not lifting a finger. He got up from his chair and made his way over to the liquor cabinet, needing a drink after that. "For fuck's sake..." he mumbled to himself when he found the empty bottle, and he wished for everything in the world that he could just want a normal job, so he wouldn't feel the need to turn to alcohol. He opened the door, looked out into the hallway and saw her. She'd been working for him for a little bit, but not long enough where he'd actually spoken a whole lot to her. "Hazel," He greeted her with a gentle nod. "Bring a bottle of whisky into my office."

KAT had been undercover for a while now and while her team assured her that she was collecting data at an acceptable rate, she felt she should've had more. It was a tight ship, impressively so, with no real leaks or weak spots. It had her fascinated with this operations seemingly fearless leader. Patrick Flanagan, the Scotsman with an Irish name; who was surely just as intelligent as he was bold. Unfortunately, she didn't have the forethought in these moments to register her personal interest in the man as a potential problem. Instead it had her staying a little closer to where he was and a little later than she was suppose to and not being altogether honest with her team about her growing interest in this particular man's psyche. Dangerous, she should have known but curiosity always felt natural to her. Hearing her name, her undercover name anyway, in that distinctive Scottish accent, she nodded back, while taking in his appearance and reading his tone. It didn't seem she was in trouble, he hadn't been arngy and he didn't look suspicious of her, he seemed, tired, maybe frustrated, like he just needed a break. Going to the bar to get a boss approved bottle of whiskey, she grabbed two glasses and a bucket of ice. It was presumptuous of her but she was hopeful she'd finally have an excuse to talk to him or rather himand excuse to talk to her. Walking into his office and setting the everything down on his desk, she wasn't sure what to do with her hands sundddenly. "Do you want me to stay or leave?" She asked bluntly. "And do you want the door open or closed?"

PATRICK went to sit back down at his desk and started organizing everything, hurrying some papers that this poor new employee didn't need to see. From what he knew, she'd been hired, completely oblivious to everything that was going on underneath the surface of the place. Hearing the sound of glasses and ice, Patrick cleared his throat, as all the paper went hiding inside the desk drawers, locked with a small key that he kept in his pocket. The cure for a headache probably wasn't whisky, but he didn't really care; he needed something to take the edge off of this upcoming mission. There was so much for him to lose here, but also way more for him to gain, if he could pull it off. The sound of everything being placed on the wooden desk, and Kat within his periphery had him snap out of it though. He couldn't help but chuckle at the way she'd invited herself - he'd have to give it to her, it took guts. "Actually-" Patrick started, before thinking about it for a brief moment. "Stay. Take a seat, Hazel." He said, motioning to the chair across from him. This would be a nice distraction tonight, he thought to himself. "Tell me a little bit about yourself."

KAT made sure to look around the room, memorizing every inch of the space. It wouldn't be as thorough as she would have liked, as she couldn't afford to raise any suspicion. In her brief scan it was less about what she saw and more about what she hadn't seen. No papers, while she'd rarely had a chance to peak her head in before the couple of time she managed there were always papers, but now he had moved them and she figured they were somewhere in that desk. A part of her was surprised he actually wanted her to stay but it really just spoke to his state of mind. Something was bothering him, he was stressed, maybe. She wasn't sure, which both bothered her and made her interest in this man grow. Reading people was her thing, it's why the Bureau sought her out, specifically, for this mission. Yet, this man was- most people didn't have his level of control over their face and body. It's what made her want to know him more, it's why she sat down and it's why she was going to tell him her- Hazel's, story. "Oh, well, I'm Hazel, but you knew that, last name is Prokrop, I don't love it but it's what I was born with. I'm from Northern Virginia but moved her to be with a man I thought was the one only to find out six months later he was not." She smiled sadly, hoping it made her sympathetic. "He's since moved on but I kinda liked it here so I stayed. Use to work at that casino that closed down a couple months ago, and then your place popped up as hiring so I applied and now I'm here." She laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm not very interesting I'm afraid. Unlike you, can't say the Scottish accent is very common around here."

PATRICK opened the bottle of whisky with a 'POP' and started pouring it in the two glasses. The ice that Kat had brought wasn't necessary to him - he'd never felt the need to water down his liquor. But he pushed the bucket and glass across the desk, over to her, so she could add it if she wanted to. As she started her story, Patrick could feel his interest growing more and more for the girl. He hadn't hired her for her looks, but they were an added bonus. No, based off of her resume, she was clever, sharp and could think fast; all qualities that Patrick needed his employees to possess. He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of the strong beverage, admiring her, but also noting how she was just going through a list of superficial facts; probably stuff that she was used to telling blokes like him, before getting dragged into their horrible twin-sized beds. "I disagree, I think you're very interesting, Hazel," Patrick started, leaning forward again. "I'm just a simple casino owner, having taken after my dad and his hotel management. But you? You've been places. Seen things. Experienced more than what you're letting on. I can tell."

KAT looked at the bucket of ice and the stubborn part of her wanted to forego it but the part of her that remembered what room temperature whiskey tasted like reached for that bucket and filled the class with ice. Anything to help eliminate the burn, she had never been one to enjoy the taste of liquor, she was a cocktail or chaser girl through and through. Sitting under his gaze had her feeling unexpectedly flushed. She'd been working here for a month, they even had her actually work at another casino for a bit before coming here, men looking at her wasn't new. Even before this mission she had experienced men looking at her. But not like this, they looked at her like all they saw was what they wantedto see, but Patrick looked at her like he saw what she didn'twant him to see. Intuative and perceptive. The backstory they had for Hazel was thorough but something told her she was going to have to put her quick thinking to the test with him. "Do you find me interesting or do you find me beautiful? In my experience, men seem to confuse the two." She smiled thinking he would enjoy a bit of banter or cheek as they called it across the pond. "You don't believe I'm just some girl from the suburbs?" Funnily enough that part was actually true.

PATRICK knew he could be intimidating. It was all part of a calculated strategy of getting what he wanted; something he'd picked up on over the years from his bosses. It had come in handy in many different situations; usually ones where his life might've been on the line. Now was obviously not one of those times, it was much calmer and casual. He couldn't help but crack the stare though, a smile making the wrinkles around his eyes appear, and a laugh escaping his lips at her comment. She was brave, that was for damn certain. Not many of his employees dared to use any kind of banter around Patrick. "I know what I find you, Hazel," he chuckled and took another sip. "It can easily be both, to me." He pointed out, his smile fading and his glass hitting the desk again. "Oh, no, I believe you alright. I just think there's more to you than you're letting on. What went on behind that white picket-fence is what I want to know."

KAT was relieved when he seemed to take her question well. Along with relief, she found herself noticing the way his whole face softened as he laughed. Smile lines by his eyes, he looked good, lighter maybe. While her boss was, objectively, an attractive man, especially if you went by what all of her coworkers said, Patrick was also not the most approachable man. Kat figured that was by design, surely it kept people in line if when they looked at you, fear washed over them. Even with all of her fascination, she had to admit she'd had always been apprehensive about getting too close, but now, seeing him like this, something about him was, for want of a better word, warm. Returning his smile, she was brought back to the moment when she heard him call her Hazel. Helped her remember why she was actually here. Taking a sip from her own glass she was very grateful for the ice making her look less incapable of taking a simple sip of alcohol. "It wasn't about what happened behind it but what happened around it." She put her glass down and placed her hands in her lap. "My home life was good, it was out in the world where I suffered. I guess I was a weird kid, and everyone, including adults, never failed to remind me of that." That was true and the child in her was still heartbroken over it.

PATRICK kept observing Hazel, kept trying to see beyond the properness. The ironed clothes, the perfect make-up, the neat hands in her lap. He understood that she was clearly professional, and taking her job seriously, but there was more to her than that facade, and he knew it. He could see it straight away. It was like with him; there was more to him than the crisp white shirt and the slim black tie. He'd come from poverty, a mother who tried her best to make ends meet, and a childhood that caused him to go into a life of crime. A rough life so far, hidden behind a nicely pressed suit. It took one to know one, he used to say, and it was exactly like that with Hazel. Maybe just not as extreme. A subtle frown appeared on Patrick's face, as Hazel started telling but not really explaining. "'Weird', how? You've done well for yourself, given your appearance here, so it must not have been all too bad." He pushed on, wanting to get through to her.

KAT had felt that being undercover, while somewhat stressful, was, for the most part, easy. Gathering intel, not drawing attention to herself, just clocking in and clocking out. Now though, sitting across from a man whose file she knew forwards, backwards and upside down, she finally felt the pressure. She had hoped she could side step his questions by being coy and playful. It had been a long shot, since it was obvious that a pretty face wasn't going to be enough to distract him but she also knew that she had to be careful with what truths about herself she gave him. Childhood was a bit easier, less lies to filter through and consider. She found her fingers fidgeting with each other as she spoke. "I was smart." She smiled a little sadly. "The kind of smart that had me graduating high school at thirteen." A pause. "None of the kids my age knew me because I wasn't their classmate and my classmates... She trailed off lost in her memory for a moment. "They didn't want to hang out with a kid and sometimes both the kids my age and my classmates were, cruel. I suppose you would call it bullying. At the time I knew I didn't like how they treated me but I was more curious as to why than hurt. It was isolating." Even though she had worked through her childhood trauma, it still hurt to think about. "I was naive and too trusting. I guess you could argue that I still am."

PATRICK normally didn't have these conversations with his employees. He didn't even have them with the other members of the gang; people that he was relatively close to. He didn't allow a whole lot of people to get so close to him, and usually kept it strictly professional. But there was something about Hazel; it wasn't just that there was more to her than what was on the surface - she seemed empathetic, compassionate and humble. It was qualities that Patrick didn't exactly possess, after having grown up around people who had toughened him up. He used to say that the world was cold and unhelpful, and he had only himself to count on. But it felt like Hazel was the type of person to give people the benefit of doubt, and be kind to them; rather than punish them, the way Patrick was used to. Listening to her story, the Scotsman leaned back into his chair again, taking a long sip of his whisky, feeling the satisfying burn of the smoky liquor in his throat. He knew what it was like to leave school at an early age, but not because of being too smart. And he knew what it was like to be bullied, but not because of not being the right age. As she continued and described herself as naive and too trusting, Patrick could see it; they were the other sides of the coin; the cons of being empathetic, compassionate or humble. She was deeply aware of it, everything that Patrick was piecing together during this conversation. And it was incredibly endearing, hearing her already know herself so well. Not many people did. "Perhaps. But you wouldn't have that kind of wise awareness about yourself, if you hadn't learned something since then," Patrick counter-argued. He wanted to change the subject. "How are you finding the job, Hazel? Is it stimulating enough, for a smart lass like you?"

KAT was surprised she had been so forthcoming with her story. Usually she avoided mentioning the bad, but it seemed like the depth he was looking for. It was equally as rare though, for people to see past the carefully curated exterior she had built for herself. While she was known for her ability to read people, she imagined that was a skill Patrick possessed that people underestimated and it probably landed them exactly where this crime leader wanted them. It wasn't lost on her, that it might not be happenstance that he asked her of all people to have this drink with him. But something about his demenor seemed deeply genuine. As he spoke to her wisdom and self awareness, she took another sip and found herself forgetting why she was here and instead just being in this moment. Putting the glass down she smiled and nodded. "Interacting with people is always stimulating." She replied. "It's a great job to have if you just want to observe and at this point I can tell how someone is going to play and their probability of winning or losing. So many people have had their best and worst day right in front of me, all within a twenty minute game. It's fascinating? Don't you think? I mean why'd you choose a casino in Vegas?"

PATRICK knew he was probably getting into murky territory, getting so close to an employee who was on the floor, and not exactly someone who worked directly for him, but there was something about Hazel that had him hooked. He couldn't pinpoint it, but there was a mystery to her; she seemed to be carrying a pretty huge secret around and Patrick wanted to know what it was. And he'd only scratched the surface. "So it's the sociology part of the job that thrills you?" Patrick asked, genuinely interested. He'd never heard it like that. Usually people worked the job for the several thousand tips that they could rake in, in a night. Biting the inside of his cheek when he heard her question, there was both a side to him that was impressed that she'd even dared to ask, and another side that was struggling to see how it mattered. But if it was people she was interested in, he would give it the benefit of the doubt. "I'm my father's son," Patrick blatantly lied - it was one he'd pulled several times before, so it didn't hurt him anymore. "It seemed to be an appropriate way to carry on the Flanagan legacy," Another lie. He was more of a 'McAdams' than a 'Flanagan', but Hazel didn't need to know that, and she definitely didn't need to know that this whole thing was just a front for whatever business he was doing on the side. He took a long sip of his whisky, finishing it off, before leaning forward and placing the glass on the table. "We're looking at expanding into the hotel business. It only seems fitting." He gave her a small smile. Something about lying to the poor girl had him feeling some type of way, but he couldn't begin to analyze that now.

KAT had found even just the process of getting the job to be fascinating. They were incredibly thorough, their background checks were so much more extensive than she thought they would be. She figured with the amount of money the employees would be around it would be similar to getting a job as a bank teller, but she thinks that casino's were even more intense. It wasn't specific to Patrick, but she did suspect he was more particular than most, and not just because of the operation he was allegedly running out of there. Everything about him said, caucious and guarded, traits that were usually learned. It made her wonder who he was as a kid. Files never had enough information about childhood, that required face to face communication. "Yes, I imagine most go through the extensive and intensive application process for the tips, which are more than adequate but I could make money anywhere. I can't, however, interact with people in this mindset with just any job." Which was true and the psychology of why, why are these people gambling their homes away when they know, logically, it's all chance? She could study the patrons here forever and learn something new every day. At the mention of his family name, she took another sip of her drink, the ice had melted a bit, watering the taste down. 'It only seems fitting.' That is not a phrase someone uses when they're excited about something. Made her think it was either a lie or he was very disinterested in it. To change the pace a bit, she put her glass down and leaned forward, he elbows resting on her knees and her hands clasped together and resting under her chin. "If ou could do anything or be anything what would you do or be? Would you still be a casino owner or would you be a scuba instructor or something?" She smiled, leaning people's dreams and aspirations was one of her favorite facts to know about a person. It said so much about someone.

PATRICK studied Kat for a moment, his dark eyes assessing her as she leaned forward, asking him a question most people wouldn’t dare. It wasn’t the kind of inquiry that made sense in his world. People like him didn’t get the luxury of “what ifs.” Life had been about survival for as long as he could remember. The casino was more than just a business; it was his way out of the violent life he’d once led back in Glasgow. But no matter how polished it appeared on the surface, it was still a front for darker dealings. And yet, Kat’s curiosity disarmed him. The question wasn’t dangerous in itself, but with Kat, every word mattered. She was sharper than most people he dealt with - she made him think twice before speaking. “If I could be anything?” His Scottish accent was thick, his tone as careful as ever. “I’ve never really thought about it," He took in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, his gaze not leaving hers as he thought long and hard about it. There was something almost playful in her smile, but it didn’t escape him that her curiosity wasn’t just about his aspirations. It was about learning who he was underneath the businessman mask he wore so well. Patrick wasn’t sure how much he wanted to give away. But he also liked the way she pushed him - subtly, but persistently - past his usual defenses. “I might’ve been a sailor. Something about seeing the world, and being out in the open like that seems very appealing.” He could feel the irony, the weight of his own words. Here he was, in a closed space, on solid ground. There was not much open air or water around him. He couldn't help but crack a small smile at the sight of hers, as he continued. “But no, I’m not much for scuba diving.” His gaze drifted down to her hands, then back up to meet her eyes. “And what about you? I reckon you’ve got you own ideas about what people should be doing with their lives. So, if you weren’t here, in this casino, studying everyone, where would you be?”

KAT kept eye contact as he looked at her, leaning back in his chair, contemplating her answer. The question was, would he come up with a lie or would her tell her the truth and would she know the difference. It should conern her that she can't read him as easily as she can most, but it just made her feel at ease. Like she was just talking to something, like anyone else and he coul lie to her if he wanted but she really hoped he didn't. Finally he spoke again and she wasn't disappointed with his answer. Lie or not, it told her something about. Something she had suspected since she memorized his file. Patrick felt trapped in this life. You don't dream of leaving land for a life at sea because you love the life you're living. You dream of the sea because you want to leave your old life behind and voyage to some place or to nowhere at all. Water is often a symbol of cleansing and even transformation. You submerge yourself, like living in a womb again and when you come back up you are reborn. She wondered if he knew that about himself or if he just thought he picked something random. Then he was lightening the moment, leading her to believe there was some weight to his answer, but she tucked her analysis away and instead laughed a little at his lack of interest in scuba diving. Following his eyes and he looked down at her hands and back up she bit her bottom lip in thought. "An Olympic synchronized swimmer. I think it's beautiful and I enjoy being in water and I like the idea of being a part of a team where you're ability to be in tune with those around you makes or breaks you. Something so... human about that." And if she had genuinely tried when she was a kid and almost drowned four times, no one had to know.

PATRICK's eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could’ve almost been a smile. Kat’s answer wasn’t what he expected - an Olympic swimmer. Elegant and disciplined. He could picture it, her moving in perfect synchrony with a team, everything calculated but appearing effortless. There was something poetic about it, especially for a woman who seemed so focused on understanding and controlling the currents around her. It made him wonder what she was trying to swim away from, or towards. “You like the idea of being in perfect sync with others, but you chose a job that requires you to stay out of sync - always watching, always looking for the cracks. Bit of a contradiction, don’t you think?” The whiskey burned a little as he swallowed, his gaze holding hers. He wasn’t just teasing; he was testing, trying to see if she’d offer more. It wasn’t in his nature to trust, not even close. But there was something refreshing about her honesty, even when he wasn’t entirely sure it was all truth. He could tell there was more beneath her surface - ambition, maybe, or something personal she wasn’t letting on. And he wanted to figure her out just as much as she wanted to understand him.

KAT couldn't help but smile at his analysis of her dream job. It was a valid point and while she had never quite looked at it that way in comparison to this current job, it was true. A part of her craved the ability to just fall in line with people she trust to fall in line with her at the exact right tempo. It seemed peaceful somehow, to just trust in the person next to you. Although, she did find him point out the contridiction to be a bit ironic. "And you chose a life that would put you in the middle of the ocean, far far away from all of this." She gestured to the building their were in. "Bit of a contradiction, don't you think?" She echoed his own words back at him. Not everyone chooses a dream job that is so opposing to their current job but the fact that they both did made her feel a connection to Patick. The both chose water themed careers too, and certainly that must say something. Maybe it was just a spark between them that she wanted to keep fanning, but whatever was settling between them in this moment was, she suspected, outside of both of their expectations. Then again, maybe it was just the whiskey warming her cheeks and not the way he looked at her. She found her eyes roaming down from his face to the collar of his shirt, to the bend of his elbow down to his hands and right back up to his face when she realized what she was doing. That was definitely the liquor. "I've never been much of a drinker." She suddenly felt... shy.