Brian Gamble

It wasn’t so much in words but in actions. So of course she knew. He wasn’t the kind of man to stick around after the obligation ended, not unless he wanted to. Of all the things she’d been certain she knew about him it was that. They’d been friends for years before anything changed. It took a hostage situation to get them there.

Not that they hadn’t begun flirting somewhere along the way. Though it was never clear if either of them meant it or it was more of a challenge because that was them in a nutshell.

Would she ask him why now? No.

Maybe things weren’t said out loud until the time was right.

You know that I love you.

“I do.” Her answer was muffled slightly because the moment he’d opened his arms, she’d curled into him, nestling against his shoulder, pressing her face into his neck, arms going around him. Whatever had woken him from sleep had shaken him so much he’d gotten out of bed to find solace with a glass of whiskey.

She did know.

Looking back she wouldn’t have been able to say when she knew, only that she did.

Corinne picked up her head, her hand moving from his neck to trace a tender line down his check. “You know I love you, right?”

Maybe they didn’t tell each other with so many words,

Had she ever wondered if he’d stayed because he’d been asked to? In the beginning of course she had. Had he asked her if she loved someone else? Only once.

Had all of it changed at some point? Years ago. They’d just never said it out loud.

“You know I need you just as much.” She said after a moment. “The two of us who work so hard to say we don’t need anyone.” The admission fell easily from her lips now that they’d said the other words. “I wasn’t supposed to let anyone get close. Yet I couldn’t seem to help it with you.”

Had she ever needed to hear it? Not until that moment when she realized she did.

How long had she known she loved him? She couldn’t have named a defining moment, only that she was certain she did.

It hadn’t ever been that way with them, the need for words. It had been there though all along, so clearly expressed in actions.

@therealgamble

"Are the pancakes mini or the chocolate chips?" He asks with half a laugh, pretty sure he already knows the answer. "Either way, I'd be in. Although one time Sanchez's mom made us all pancakes that had a Hershey Kiss right in the center of them. It kinda half melted all over them." Yep, he was definitely tired if he was telling random food stories.

"And don't you dare put any egg on anything you expect me to eat." He makes a face, sticking his tongue out like he's going to be sick, but then laughs and takes another bite of the sandwich. There are only a few things Brian refuses to eat and egg is one of them. "Absolutely ruins the chesseburger, if we're doing loco moco I want mine sans chicken fetus. But extra gravy."

He took another sip of coffee though, letting it warm him from the inside out. The caffeine was genuinely appreciated - it was a very nice gesture. And it had been an incredibly long day. He set the cup down and started rifling through the food containers.

“My boss. The D.A. Said I had to ‘be more cooperative with the others’ at the office.” Though her smile was just as false and bitter as anyone who had ever worked retail. The one that said “sure, but you can kiss my ass while I’m at it’ without saying a word otherwise. “I swear to God, one of these days I am going to quit and then the city will be down one of the best Lawyers in Criminal Justice.”  

She just wanted to be done with the day. To change into as little clothing as she could get away with and sleep for a week straight. She needed a distraction. And Brian had so helpfully given her one. 

The food was good and he could feel it bringing back some energy. He finished a taco and starting on another quickly, then took a huge sip of hot coffee to wash it down.

"An actual finger." He confirmed with a grin. "I thought you were familiar with crackheads." He was warming up to the conversation now, and excited to tell the insane story. "This guy was walking around an industrial district, no idea why since there's generally no food or shelter there, and somehow found a person's finger." He took another bite of his food, completely unphased by what he was saying. "He thought he could trade it for a hit. I swear to God, that's what he told me." He laughed, still unbelieving of the tale.

"And I think the hot song that year was actually something by Whitney Houston." He gave a shrug. Pop wasn't really his type of thing, but somehow he remembered a lot of warbling. "So, I'm only like at the hill, not quite over it."

She leaned back against the bar, stretching her arms behind her with a little hum of amusement to keep the mood light. A twitch of a wider smile followed, because the image of Brian wedged into one of the creaky corner booths with a bunch of opinionated retirees and midlife-crisis hobbyists was kind of spectacular. The lot of them arguing over player stats they’d half-remembered from the news crawl, while Brian sat there trying to wrangle free drinks from it all.

“Though, I gotta warn you.” Tabby tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the edge of the counter. “They pick their lineups based on vibes and which players have the best facial hair. I watched a guy drop his QB last year because he didn’t like his touchdown dance.”

A wrinkle of her nose signaled she wasn’t quite done with the subject and definitely might even be plotting. “However. If you managed to trick them all into a fake betting pool that you actually diverted to me to clear their outstanding tabs, I will absolutely provide you with all the pro-bono beer you can handle. And not just because…”

The pause that followed was dramatic. Just long enough to be suspicious, before Tabby cleared her throat and channeled her best Houston.

"Yep, that was it!" He couldn't help but laugh at her belting it out in the nearly empty bar. The fact that the few patrons didn't even blink made it ten times funnier.

But then he felt the need to get back to the business at hand. "Ok, we can do this. I'm thinking we start a weekly pool. We can collect $25 per player and set the payouts so that the house gets a generous cut. If you get ten people playing that's $250 a week. Even if the house only keeps $50 that goes a long way towards paying the tabs off." His mind is working, calculating bar patrons and payouts.

And then he goes cold. Numb. "They triggered it?" The word is full of disgust, fear, and anger. They could have killed him at any moment? Someone had a finger on the button? He wasn't an idiot, he knew his job was dangerous, and he knew that the agency could decide to have him taken out at any moment. But deep down he knew he'd fight, and he could fight. Likely, he'd kill anyone they sent after him. But they knew that. They counted on that. So they'd stacked the deck. And that really pissed him off.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Even as he said it he knew the answer. She couldn't. Not safely. It didn't make it better though.

He went quiet again, mind racing through scenarios, others who'd been killed, how many of them were taken out that way? And what were they going to do now? Where could they run to? He was taking a mental inventory of their weapons, safe houses, friends, any assets he could think of that weren't tied to it all. There wasn't much.

Her face is so innocent, vulnerable, and possibly even surprised at what she's done. That makes him laugh more.

It takes a moment for it to pass, he wipes tears from his eyes and lets out a ragged breath. "Yes, we are well and truly fucked. But I guess at least they won't be blowing my head off anytime soon." Finding the silver lining in the absurd was usually her job.

"Lets get out of here now then. Grab what you can. Leave everything with a computer chip or electricity." It's not that hard to switch into work mode. It's how he deals with the emotion, no need to feel when you have plans to make, things to do.

He gave a slight smile at her joking about a smaller opponent. Right then he really wished he'd made some different choices and hadn't ended up there.

You asked me why I was so nice. He'd forgotten about that, and he was brought back to wondering if she knew. He expected to be treated like a criminal, harshly and with little compassion. But if she didn't know, he wasn't exactly willing to clue her in. Why make her hate him? So he ignored it for the moment.

He watched her carefully as she revealed little pieces about herself, trying to gauge how true her words were, and feeling in the end like she was being pretty honest, even if she seemed to hide slightly behind her work.

"Oh, so you're like me then?" A slight laugh sounded in his words. Not following the rules had definitely gotten him into a lot of trouble. But he still had no plans of going arrow straight anytime soon. "I don't suppose I could convince you to go get me a cheeseburger? I swear, it's just what I need to heal." He was actually feeling really hungry even after spilling out his stomach on the floor.

That last bit made him stop joking though. She at least knew what was going on here. Maybe she was a source of information he could use. Maybe she was just compassionate and reckless enough.

"They want me for my shooting skills?" He asked, an eyebrow raised just slightly. "Are they government? Private? Foreign?" He tried to keep his voice even, like they were discussing the weather. She couldn't know how important her answers would actually be to him. "How well will they treat me if I agree?" That one was the clincher. Would he be a slave, or a prince?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, so you're like me then?

A brief smile flickered across her lips at his remark. “Not a rules follower then? I suppose we are alike in that regard, though I suspect perhaps our reasons for that might differ.” Not she knew or understood his reasons, it was more of a hunch based on what had brought him to this place and time. Her presence here was more punishment for standing up for her principles. She hid her thoughts behind her smile. Their time together was destined to be brief and she had a job to do.

“You could persuade me to get you something to eat if you’re feeling hungry. That desire at least a good sign. As for my professional recommendation of that being a cheeseburger, I might advise against it. Unless your goal is a repeat of before.” Sarah felt she at least owed him what honesty she could provide.

“I’m sure your shooting skills would be a plus.” He asked good questions, she’d give him that much. The jury was still out though on how she felt about him. Based on the file alone, she decided to keep an open mind. Sometimes there was more to a story than just the facts and in her experience, the reasons behind actions were often more enlightening than the actions themselves. “Government.” She said. “Though I’m surprised they didn’t tell you that.”

“How will they treat you, well if that’s not the million dollar question.” She murmured. “Unfortunately, that’s not one I have an easy answer to as once people leave my charge, I rarely, if ever see them again.” Her voice remained quiet. Really, what could she tell him that wouldn’t invite more questions she couldn’t answer.

“I’m assuming you’re here because you’ve got very limited options. So it’s more of a lessor of two bad choices perhaps is how you’re seeing it?” Sarah softened her features, she was after all here to do her job. “My role is to keep you alive and comfortable while you recover and your next step is up to you. You either choose the men I work for or your former co-workers who I suspect, based on seeing what’s unfolding on the new, aren’t too happy with you right now.”

Limited options. Man she had that right. He was supposed to be dead. And everyone thinking he was dead was a great cover for these guys. He'd be completely unattributed. If anyone even thought they saw him they could laugh in their face and say he was dead. It also meant they could dispose of him anytime they wanted.

"You have no idea how much I want a cheeseburger." He gave a half grin, it was about all he could muster. "But I'll settle for whatever you think is best." He kept his voice light, not wanting to betray how bad he really felt or the fact that his mind was grinding through everything he'd learned so far.