Stop callin' me Junior!

“Well, at your age I’d place a sizable wager on the latter.” The remark is accompanied by a side-eye that even Killian would have been proud of, his deadpan delivery a thing of beauty, just enough to get under his companion’s skin but not enough to be over the top. “But then again inability to determine whether someone is joking is said to be the first sign of senility…”

“You would run faster if you did not talk so much at the same time,” Imelda protested with a roll of the eyes, pulling the man down a small side street that served as a short cut to her zapataría without having to run through a dozen winding dirt roads of Santa Cecilia. She pulled him again on another turn, and paid no attention to any of his comments or his preguntas until they were in sight of her casa. 

One last dash pulled him across the street to the door. “I like to be called by my name” She told him as she turned the handle, rolling her eyes at his wink, and opened the door, grabbing him by his camisa to shove him inside,  following after him and closing the door behind them. “Which is Imelda” She finished, turning the lock on the door.

“Ahora…who are you, señor?“

For a moment he could rest, the click of the door behind them saw to that - and with a swipe of one arm across his brow Indiana sighed, leaning against the wall in an effort to keep himself propped up. Damn - even the shade of the indoors was hot. “’Imelda.” He wouldn’t be able to wipe the grin off his face even if he tried, so instead the archeologist fixed her with a grin, fingers moving to smooth down the crease she had created in his shirt. “Indiana. Jones.” Head cocked to the side as he answered her question, hazel eyes flickering briefly across her face before darting towards the one window in the room. 

“After a fashion anyhow,” Dodger muttered, not near denying the professor’s point though. The bloke could be right stubborn, couldn’t he just, ‘specially when he got a notion in his head, and Dodger shook his own head.

Really, he had no one to blame but himself for landing in the middle of another of the professor’s mad schemes. Knew that it would see him in the heat of one explosion or another, shots firing, and horns honking. If Dodger was really truly figuring on the quiet life, he could just tell the archeologist ‘no’ next time. And yet, as he twisted the wheel again, shifting the car into a higher gear, he knew he’d find himself back in the same place.

Sparing a glance at whatever the bloke unwrapped, his eyebrows danced to his hairline. “What’s that grubby thing gotta do with Singapore?”

“Grubby? Why I oughta - “ Just what he oughta do was cut short as they rounded a nasty bend and it was all the professor could do to keep upright. “Jeez Dodger, you tryin’ to make their job of killin’ us easier or what?” Turning back to the object in hand, wiping away the remnants of dust in the off chance it held anything else of value, Indiana let out a whistle, grin splitting from ear to eat. “This, kid, is a manifesto for a British convoy that headed out to a few locations after the end of World War Two. Somewhere out there is a load of gold bullions, known as Yamashita’s Gold,  and I’m bettin’ my ass that its in Singapore. Most people think it a myth or that its somewhere in the Phillipines but I got an idea that - well. I’ll spare ya the details. You just focus on drivin’ and gettin’ us the hell out of here.” 

          ❛   my employers have reason to  TAKE INTEREST  in your work, doctor jones.  on those grounds, among others, I suggest you take the time to let me buy you a drink.   ❜       //       @whysnakes.  suggestive starters.

“Sweetheart?” Imelda repeated, brown eyes widening with furious indignation. She had never let anyone, anyone ever, call her sweetheart in any way. Not querida, not cariño, not hermosa. Many men had tried it and they had all been met with the same reply; a slap, a smack and a very sharp word. It was no different now. Imelda was quick to slip off the shoe she had made herself and hit him around the arm with it, “I am not your sweetheart” She would have said more, quizás hit him more also, but her eyes followed the line of his gaze and saw the tension in the way she had stood. She had not lived through the revolución without learning how to recognise trouble when she saw it. 

“Ay,” She sighed loudly in frustration and after slipping her boot back on quickly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him firmly in the direction of her zapatería. If he wanted a drink he could have it there, not in the taberna where they played De La Cruz all day and all night. “And I am not your sister, either” She added as she dragged him along.

What a woman. Allowing himself to be pulled down the street, fingers of his other hand reaching up to keep his treasured fedora in place, Indiana pulled a face, grimacing at the ache in his side. “Hell, sweetheart ... I think you busted my spleen.” Pulling back slightly in the off chance she tried to clock him again the professor gave his best try at a charming smile - kind of hard to pull off when you were stumbling your way down some street.”Not sweetheart then, or sister either ... so what do you like bein’ called? If you’re gonna assault a guy with your shoe and then drag him down the road the least you can do is give him your name.” 

“And so’s your’s,” Dodger returned, smile growing at his own little joke before flicking back to the noise behind the doctor. Of course the bloke’d never settle down, ‘least not without a very good cause, and of course he’d appear in Dodger’s life again in the rush of an angry mob. That all seemed just be how the famous Indiana Jones operated, wasn’t it just. 

Catching the keys deftly, he shrugged a little. ‘Less he was working for the archaeologist, he didn’t find himself driving much. Not the fastest way to get ‘round, was it, at least in London. “Bit like riding a bike, ain’t it just, ‘cept with an extra set of wheels. Who you needing to run from this time? Figure I have a right of knowing seeing as I’m most like gonna be shot at for it.” Dodger didn’t doubt his own abilities to see them away in any event.

“ Hey - forget the goddamned manuscripts.” Careful to ignore the bodies strewn around them (sometimes things just couldn’t be avoided), the professor made his way across the blood soaked floor to the woman who looked as if she were on her last bit of faith. “Hey, hey - “ Hell he was bad at this kind of stuff. For a moment Indiana found himself wishing they weren’t alone, wishing that for once maybe he had brought even the likes of Marcus along, but wishes were fruitless and Lara needed help, not could’ve beens. Gingerly resting a hand on her shoulder he squatted beside her, fingers of his other hand taking the papers from her shaking hands. “You okay?” 

He bit back a sigh - hell of course she wasn’t okay -  and for a moment he floundered, taking a second to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand. Damn it was hot in there. “Sometimes - “   Sometimes what? A million cliches ran through his head, each more asinine than the last and Indiana finally gave in with a sigh, fingers reaching to squeeze Lara’s own as he rose to his feet, voice soft and quiet. “Come on, Croft. You need a drink.”

Or three.

“Uncle? Hell, Marian. Can’t a guy be nice without giving in all the time?” Lips twitched upwards at the corners into a smile that belied any discomfiture behind his words, hand reaching upwards to rest gentle fingers across the ones that pressed against his collar. “You’re really somethin’, sweetheart, you know that?” No doubt they’d be back at it within the week, but with a woman like Marion a guy had to take what he could get when he could get it. “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meaning to do ... “

Stepping away the slightest bit, one finger tilting her chin up and smile growing ever wider as gaze met her own, the professor leant the slightest bit down, placing his fedora atop her own head and sealing it with a gentle brush of his lips against hers. Breaking away, relishing in the fact they could enjoy this moment - a breath of fresh air amongst many a harebrained adventure - Indy cocked his head, studying her with warm hazel eyes. “We oughta get you one of these .. “ He playfully hit the brim of the hat, grinning all the wider as it covered her eyes. “You’re startin’ to look kinda good in ‘em.”