pullmeoutalive | Ramey

[ His nose wrinkles a little, and he hunches his shoulders, affecting a bashful sort of look. ]

Aw, shucks.

[ But he ditches the act in favor of pulling his arm forward, examining the griffon logo on the jacket's arm. He smiles a little. ]

This was a nice touch.

I thought it would be nice for you to look official, no matter what you're doing.

[ Whether he was patrolling the club or rescuing girls, she wanted his ties to the club to be official. Or at the very least official looking. ]

Oof. This arrangement is starting to feel pretty legitimate, here. If you try to foist business cards on me next, I might just have to walk.

Ah... shit. Um. Give me a second, I need to cancel an order with the printing company.

[ He snorts, straightening out the jacket and adjusting the sleeves. ]

Hope it wasn't too big an order.

[ He kneels back down, scooping up the old jacket. For a second or two, he weighs it in his hands, his thumb brushing across the flame emblem on the shoulder, before he folds it up and stuffs it into the white box. ]

I, uh. [ He swallows, frowning down at the old garment to avoid looking over at Madigan. ] The guys didn't cause anymore trouble after you had Hannah evacuate me, did they?

Only for themselves. After that little outburst, none of the girls would even give them the time of day.

They left feeling pretty... unsatisfied.

[ Another little laugh, and he puts the lid over the box. ]

Well, at the very least, I guess we can all safely say this night did not go the way any of us planned. That's gotta be some kinda consolation, somehow.

Nights like this happen every now and then.

Are you gonna be okay?

[ Well, that's a difficult question, and for a second or two, he flounders. ]

... I dunno.

[ He smiles a little ruefully, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. ]

I mean, tonight's been kinda shitty, and I won't lie, I could've gone at least another year without seeing any of those guys again. I'm thinking maybe at least a few stiff drinks are in order before I turn in, but—

[ He tugs absently at his sleeve before nodding. ]

Yeah. I think I'm gonna be fine.

[ She smiles at him, something soft and warm in her expression. She gets where he's coming from, but she's glad that it seems he's going to stay. ]

Do you still want to stick around for Hamburger Helper? I don't like to brag, but it's my specialty.

[ For a second, he seems caught off-guard by that smile of hers, and without realizing it, he smiles a little in return.

The comment, though, snaps him out of whatever daze he was in and earns another snort – not the most gentlemanly sound he could've made, but there it is – and he shrugs out of his new coat, folding it carefully. ]

Yeah, so long as you're making it. Pretty sure you don't want me within five feet of a stove, anyway.

[ There’s a part of her that finds she likes that little smile of his, but there’s another part that tells her this is dangerous. She knows, which is why she looks away and wanders into the kitchen. ]

Of course! I’m a great cook. You know, as long as it comes in a box and tells me what to preheat the oven to.

[ He follows her as far as the entryway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest. ]

Pretty sure that’s the only practical way to cook, anyway. Simple instructions with helpful little pictures.

The pictures are a must.

[ More often than not, Madigan just thrives on takeout- usually there’s always something open, no matter the time of night. Vegas is kind of great like that ]

I also have ice cream if you want dessert.

Dinner and ice cream, huh? [ He lets out a breath, as if he were impressed. ] If this is the treatment I get every time I have a shit day, I should have shit days more often.

Orrrr you could not have a shit day, and just come and have dinner and ice cream with me for fun instead.

[ He pauses, as if considering that. Then, ]

Has this always been an options? ‘Cause if it has, I would’ve liked to have known about it, like, weeks ago.

Well, yeah? Don’t you know I have an open kitchen policy? I thought that was in your employment papers.

[ He squints at her, hands dropping to his sides. ]

Wait, hang on. Did I get employment papers?

[ She falls quiet, pausing as she pulls a skillet from a cabinet. Then, after a beat, ] Shit.

I think I’m going to have to rescind your paychecks now.

[ He offers a smug little look, lifting his chin. ]

Joke’s on you, I already spent all that ill-gotten money on Chinese takeout and DVDs.

All of it? That’s a metric ton of Chinese takeout and DVDs.

[ As they’re talking, she fishes out all the necessary fixings for Hamburger Helper- namely the hamburger and the helper- pausing at some point to kick her shoes off and shove them in a corner with her foot. ]

I don’t envy you the heart condition you’re gonna have.

[ he grins, shrugging a shoulder. ]

I mean, factor booze and incidentals in there, but considering the way you’ve got me runnin’ around, I don’t think I’ve got much to worry about as far as staying fit goes.

[ He watches her move around the kitchen for a few seconds, hands in his pockets, before he ventures slowly, ]

You… want any help at all?

Nah. I’ve been working all night so I have energy to spare.

[ She motions to the nearby kitchen table. ] Take a seat. I’ll just bask in the pleasure of your company as I cook.

[ He hesitates, but he wasn’t quite joking when he said he probably shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove. He and cooking are not on friendly terms, and he’s left a long trail of burnt foods behind him in his attempts.

So he sighs a little, taking the offered seat, folding his arms on the table’s surface. ]

Well, if you put it that way, then bask away. I’ve been told I have a very warm aura.

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