The Second Date

[wipeawaythedebt]

The first date, as he's getting used to calling it, went pretty well. They talked, had a few drinks, and he kindly escorted Emma home again. All in all, a good night. So why is he so much jumpier tonight. Wasn't like he didn't know the woman, wasn't like he had anything to prove or hell, even be ashamed of. Taking an evening in the company of a beautiful woman, he should be right as rain. After all, it's been awhile and it wasn't like he'd taken any vows of celibacy.

Still, as he stands at her door with a small bunch of daisies in his hand, clean shirt and jeans and a freshly shaved face, he finds his heart pounding and his head spinning. He's not a good man, he's got no reason to expect anything. No reason to think she should spend time with him, or him with her.

Fuck it, she invited him. He's thinking too much.

He knocks on the door.

Comments

[notinanybook]

She's not going to force him to stay, obviously, not if he needs - or wants - to leave. But there's some tension in her jawline, some regret in her gaze, and she can't help but think she's done something to screw this up all over again.

"If that's what you want to do," she murmurs softly.

[wipeawaythedebt]

"Ain't what I want to do, it's what I should do." He can't look at her, he's too ashamed he'd let things get this far. But he likes her, dammit, and for a minute... He couldn't save his wife, hasn't kept a woman since and that's probably been the best for everyone.

[notinanybook]

She likes him too, but - more than anything, she doesn't want to force it, doesn't want to do anything that would ruin the mood any more than it's already been soured.

"Should I - " It's not a question; she's moving to her feet, slipping out from her chair to see him to the door if it's that time.

[wipeawaythedebt]

"I don't..." He leans on the table, conflicted as hell. There's something about her he likes, something he wants, something he hasn't wanted in a long, long time. But he knows the odds, knows that it's only a matter of time before he finds the wrong bar, the wrong game, and he's back to where he was before he got hired for the Columbia job.

But maybe it's not just his decision to make. "Tell me, Emma, you ever smelled burning flesh? Heard the screams of men, women and children and know it's because of you? Wake up in a gutter, not remembering the night before except for the bruises on your face and the taste of old whiskey in your mouth? 'Cause I do, and I don't know if that's the kind of man you want to sign on with and I don't want to pretend I'm someone else." He tried that, he tried washing it all away with religion, but blood doesn't wash off, not that easily.

[notinanybook]

"I'm not the kind of person who's going to hold your past against you," she replies, lifting her eyes to his face. "That would be hypocritical, and just - unfair. I've got things in mine that I'm definitely not proud of, things I've done - " She stops, breaks herself off. She knows that she's not going to convince him unless she just comes right out and says it, and he's laying it all out on the table, so why can't she?

"You want to know where I was when I had Henry? Where I was when I was pregnant with him? I was in prison, Booker."

[wipeawaythedebt]

"For what?" He's curious, because he doesn't read killer off of her and he's usually pretty good at that. But he could be wrong, it's happened before.

He also knows that he shouldn't be pushing like this, not at someone he likes as much as he likes her, but it's habit. Push people away, you can't hurt them, you can't let them down, you can't let them die.

[notinanybook]

"For - possession of stolen goods," Emma answers, though the story is a lot longer than that and mostly involves her going to jail for someone else while he'd left her behind to take the fall. There's a lot of resentment still there - in her tone, in her face, and she pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"Not that intense, but - people hear jail and they usually get all twitchy, so I make a point to not let it come up too often."

[wipeawaythedebt]

"That all? Darlin', that's nothing." At least to him. He's seen and done a lot worse in his life, that's for damn sure. Maybe it's the time, people here in the city seem to be awfully... protected from things.

"If a little stealing's all that's on your soul, you're an angel. Least to me." He crosses over to her and brushes his fingers lightly along her jaw. She's beautiful, so beautiful, and he wants nothing more than to make her happy. He doesn't know how to do that. "Tell you what, you go to the Library, look up something called the Battle of Wounded knee. I was there, hell, part of me enjoyed it. Still shoot first if I'm given the choice. That's the kind of blood on my hands. You think that's the sort of man you want, maybe we try this again sometime. If not, I'll not hold it against you."

[notinanybook]

She lifts her chin into the touch of his fingers, the gentle sweep of calloused digits against her skin, meeting his eyes without blinking or flinching away. There's hurt there, hurt and holding on to the past, and maybe he doesn't know what kind of man he is, but she can see it. There isn't any way he'd be able to be this tender with her if he didn't have that part inside him already.

"People know about that part of my past, they tend to run the other way." She manages a smile, shrugging lightly. She's used to being alone. She had been alone for a while - at least before Henry. When she lifts a hand, her fingertips curl around his wrist. "I think I want the sort of man who's going to be honest, who doesn't shy away from telling me the truth - no matter how rough it is."

[wipeawaythedebt]

He's tempted to tell her that truth isn't exactly his strong suit either, and she can ask Elizabeth about that. But the words are drying up in his mouth even as the remainders of his headache ebb. He needs time to think, maybe they both do, right now isn't the time to be making any rash choices.

Taking the hand around his wrist, he brings it to his lips. "Don't know if I'm that kind of man, but I meant what I said. Look me up. But I should probably go before I make a bigger mess. It was lovely for you to invite me, Emma. I hope it's not the last time."

[notinanybook]

She nods once, quietly. It's not something she'll do right after he leaves, but maybe over the next few days, after her curiosity earns the better of her. Instead she lets her gaze hold in his for the measure of a few beats and then slips her hand from his, leading him to the door.

"Neither do I," she murmurs, shortly before he steps through and out, and once the door's shut behind him she draws a breath, shoves a hand through her hair, and just - stops, for a moment, letting her brain process.