[ Really, independence is the one thing she'd tried to make explicitly clear between them when she'd approached him for that contract — something Felicity had suggested, though she's never openly broached that subject, having been sworn to secrecy on that front. She wants to give him as much freedom as he's able, to not encroach on his territory; she knows how much she'd chafe in the role if their designations were reversed and so even though she knows, to some extent, she'll be viewed as responsible for him, she doesn't want them to feel the weight of that unspoken obligation.
They're about to sign on the dotted line, submit the paperwork, do whatever they have to to make it official in the eyes of the city — and then he vanishes.
On the one hand, she's relieved; if their kidnappers are to be believed and a glitch in the system sent him home, then he's back where he's supposed to be, far removed from this hellhole. But she mourns his disappearance the same way she does all of her other friends who have gone — quietly, privately, with a glass of whiskey in his honor — and then a few months later, he's back again, though she can't tell if it's with more life lived in the process or not. He's not talking about it, and she's not pressing for details, which is pretty much how it's always been with them. But she can keep serving him drinks, and she can lend an open ear if he ever decides he wants one, and the good news is she can do both of those things while she's working.
When he turns away the offer of another refill, she immediately tips the bottle upward so the contents don't splash across his knuckles, mouth twisting in consideration. ] You don't sound all that sure.
[ It is a tease, likely as he's come to expect from her, but she'll only offer that gentle ribbing before his question prompts a rise of both eyebrows and a sigh exhaled between slightly pursed lips. ] Uh, well — [ Cue her reaching into her back pocket to fish out her device so she can glance at the time. ] About twenty minutes from right this second.
gasps!!!
They're about to sign on the dotted line, submit the paperwork, do whatever they have to to make it official in the eyes of the city — and then he vanishes.
On the one hand, she's relieved; if their kidnappers are to be believed and a glitch in the system sent him home, then he's back where he's supposed to be, far removed from this hellhole. But she mourns his disappearance the same way she does all of her other friends who have gone — quietly, privately, with a glass of whiskey in his honor — and then a few months later, he's back again, though she can't tell if it's with more life lived in the process or not. He's not talking about it, and she's not pressing for details, which is pretty much how it's always been with them. But she can keep serving him drinks, and she can lend an open ear if he ever decides he wants one, and the good news is she can do both of those things while she's working.
When he turns away the offer of another refill, she immediately tips the bottle upward so the contents don't splash across his knuckles, mouth twisting in consideration. ] You don't sound all that sure.
[ It is a tease, likely as he's come to expect from her, but she'll only offer that gentle ribbing before his question prompts a rise of both eyebrows and a sigh exhaled between slightly pursed lips. ] Uh, well — [ Cue her reaching into her back pocket to fish out her device so she can glance at the time. ] About twenty minutes from right this second.