Vanessa & David | Monday night

[x-copycat.livejournal.com]

As previously discussed, David shows up at Vanessa's place with alcohol to probe the circumstances of her current appearance. When she eventually slips behind her usual defense mechanism she manages to relax but puts the two in potentially dangerous territory.

It had been a day of paperwork and consultations for the most part. Some people just seemed to want to talk, others wanted to plot revenge and a couple wanted to give serious consideration to hiring the agency for whatever their reason. None, however, had actually hired them today which meant Vanessa had nothing to do once her notes on the meetings were written up. She pulled her hair out of its usual plait, shut down the computers, switched the phones to forward to her home phone, turned off the lights and locked up.

Once downstairs in her own apartment Vanessa swept the place for signs of intrusion, as had become her habit. The various glass and metal baubles and bits positioned strategically along the ledges of her windows all appeared undisturbed. Her gun safe wasn't missing anything, nor was the smaller safe within it. The knives and swords that hung on the walls as decoration all seemed to lie undisturbed. Vanessa had gone through this routine three times before she finally collapsed on her couch, exhausted as she always was thanks to the scant few hours of sleep she was getting each night.

She had only just gotten the top few buttons of her collared shirt undone when the buzzer went off. The metamorph narrowed her eyes at the speaker beside her door as she got up off the couch with a sigh. Of course someone would be at the door now. A delicate glass figurine was removed from one window's ledge so she could open the window and hang out of it. She didn't recognize the guy standing at the door down below immediately so her shouted reply was, "Yeah?" in typical New York fashion.

Taking the few steps back that were necessary to prevent a crick in his neck, David looked up in the direction of the voice and raised both brows. Vanessa seemed to have failed to mention that not only was she not blue, she was also now blonde; a detail which seemed to have escaped him when he had noticed her strangely-coloured picture.

In place of raising his voice, however, the German man raised the bottle of whiskey in his hand, offering the disgruntled woman a slight smile that she may or may not have been able to see from her window. It was good whisky if he did say so himself, from his personal stash, which he had rifled through after dropping his work things off at his apartment. Vanessa may not have taken his offer to drop in on her seriously, but David had not really thought twice about it after another day of tediously sorting through stacks of paperwork.

From the second floor Vanessa could certainly see that faint smile. And the color of what lay in the bottle he had in his hand. David looked more worn and thinner than she remembered him, but with his face turned up toward her he was unmistakable. She flashed one of Morgan's characteristic half-smiles and disappeared from the window. The window got locked, the figurine replaced and then the door downstairs buzzed, letting David into the building.

He slipped through the door and, out of habit, tugged it fully shut to prevent someone from entering behind him. Taking to the stairs two at a time, David broke into a full-fledged smile, teeth and all, when her door came into view. Vanessa herself was standing in the doorway looking somewhat tired and very… human.

“As promised, good alcohol and my charming company,” he informed her drolly, by way of greeting, sincerely glad that she looked physically well. Whatever reports he had read on her latest escapade had painted a less-than-pretty picture, which had promptly taped itself in the back of his mind. “You look in the pink of health.”

Her expression had gone from neutral to lighting up at the sight of him smiling and then became rather sarcastic with his last comment. "Oh, that's funny. Did it take you the entire journey over here to think that up or did it only occur to you when presented with my incredible pinkness in the flesh?" There was, despite the flatness of her tone, a smile trying to tug its way onto her lips.

“The latter, of course. You are the very picture of inspiration,” David replied easily, sounding entirely unconcerned although there was definitely amusement to be found in the crinkling of his eyes. Cocking his head to the side, he overtly swept his gaze over her form and nodded. “This will take some getting used to.”

"I've already been told I'm preferred blue, leggy and delicious so if you are going to bemoan my pink state you'll need to find a different tract to take should you wish to remain unique." Her nose wrinkled a bit as she spoke of her pinkness. Vanessa still wondered where she was when she looked in the mirror at times. The problem was she wasn't entirely sure that was due to her pigment.

Stepping aside, she swept her arm out to gesture David into the flat. It didn't look very different from her apartment at the brownstone, really. All the furniture was the same, the same stuff hung on the walls. There was just more space it was stretched out in and a few more tables and armchairs were scattered about to fill some of the space. "Introduceţi, iubirea mea."

“Danke, Süsser,” David sassed in his own mother tongue as he moved past her and obligingly stepped into her apartment. “You know, it’s all the same to me,” he offered after a pause, even as he cast a curious glance around her place. “Pink or blue. Redhead or Blonde. How else would I have recognised you from such a tiny picture, mm?” For all he knew, it could merely have been one of her past bodysuits.

If his time in the East German secret police and his subsequent defection to the United States had taught David anything, it was not to place prejudice in the arms of colour. Unless the subject on hand was alcohol, of course. Extending the bottle towards his host, a corner of his lips curled up in a characteristic half-smile. “I take it you have not been too happy, mein Frau?”

Something of a fond expression touched at the corners of her eyes and mouth. It was nice to be told it didn't matter that she was pink when she was having trouble recognizing herself. Some of that problem wasn't exclusive to her pigment, though, and she knew it. The fondness was gone before David could turn to see it, the expression instead replaced by an answering half-smile as she took the bottle of whiskey after both shutting and locking her door. Vanessa was on her way to the kitchen to fetch glasses when she replied. "What makes you say that?"

“Intuition, some guess work, and a fair bit of common sense.”

David loitered around as he waited, taking in the decorative but what he would guess were fully functional swords. Some of the breakable objects at the window glittered in fading sunlight, as though they were winking at him.

Captivity and torture generally did not leave people the same as they were before, if not physically then psychologically. David knew this first-hand, and any well-adjusted person would intuitionally know the same. But he also knew that Vanessa, like a number of their acquaintances, was a professional at keeping things hidden. Sometimes even from herself. Granted, he did not know her inside out, but the idea was there.

"The last five months have not been a pleasure cruise I would choose to repeat should the opportunity present itself, no." She gave him a wry smile and reached up to pull two glass tumblers out of her cupboard. He eyes darted toward the windows, gaze sweeping over the view outside. Bishop's light wasn't on in his apartment so she assumed he was out. He would, no doubt, find a way to check whether or not she was sleeping later on. She suspected he sometimes corralled his girlfriend into helping with that task.

With nothing suspicious outside and all the locks in place on her windows Vanessa turned her attention back toward David. The smile was more Morgan than Vanessa, but that lopsided half-quirked expression was one the German was familiar with. David had never really known Vanessa, exactly. That worked out brilliantly since she wasn't entirely sure she had either at this point.

Vanessa held up the bottle of whiskey, her eyebrow arching in question. "Neat or on the rocks?" She paused for only half a beat before adding another question. "Dragoste, what do you actually know of my recent adventures?" The possibility was that he knew nearly as much as anyone else given his return to Snow Valley. Doug and Wanda no doubt would have filed reports and everyone there would know just as much as Lucas or Adrienne or Garrison. In the end, it wasn't exactly like any of them knew much other than what condition she had been found. Vanessa wasn't keen to enlighten her friends and fill in their blanks, either. That was perhaps counterproductive to the thinking of some. Despite that, she thought his comment about her happiness were linked to knowledge of what had happened to her. If it wasn't it was best to know now so she did not reveal more than he knew and draw questions she did not wish to answer.

“Neat, thank you, Kätzchen,” David replied, considering her second question a little more carefully. It did not take a genius to know that it had not been so much of an adventure than it must have been a nightmare. “I know the general run down from whatever reports were filed at the Centre.” He did not elaborate further. “But we all know that not everything gets written down, especially since my colleagues would not have known everything either.”

David ran a thumb down the side of his chin, scratching the stubble as it went. He followed Vanessa’s short glances towards the windows but found nothing untoward. “I’m not asking for a recount,” he assured her, watching as she moved. It would be hypocritical of him to request such a thing, given his penchant to dig a ditch the size of a whale and bury every unhappy incident and their accompanying emotions into it. “Though I admit to being a little more interested in the aftermaths of it.”

"I didn't want you to get thrown off if you didn't know much. There's a big difference between 'missing' and 'abducted' and 'maybe nearly died,' you know?" That was very possibly the most directly she had referred to the events of a couple months ago since regaining consciousness in the medlab. Vanessa ignored how easy it was to say that much aloud despite how it sent a chill up the back of her neck. Talking threatened bringing memories to the fore and she relived those enough when she tried, and consequently failed, to sleep.

Whiskey was poured into the two tumblers in equal measure, and perhaps a touch more generously than a bartender would have. Vanessa left the bottle on the counter as it was likely a better idea than having it close at hand. She had gone through nearly an entire bottle of Scotch one night simply because it had been too easy to reach for again and again. After handing his glass over, Vanessa gestured for David to sit while trying to figure out how near or far she wanted to be to him when she sat down herself. Sitting as far as possible raised more concern and seemed unnecessary. Closeness raised the hair on the back of her neck half the time, though she wasn't sure if it would with him or not.

"What about the aftermath interests you?" Somehow Vanessa thought David would issue the direct questions about her pinkness no one else had wanted to ask aloud yet. They all wanted to ask, but they were all vague enough for her to deflect easily. No one wanted to press the unhinged crazy woman, after all. Garrison had asked but been deflected easily by an honest but unhelpful answer. Vanessa assumed he was reluctant to push her on top of some Canadian sense of politeness. Even if he did tell her to see a shrink.

“You were missing, abducted and nearly died,” David stated bluntly, accepting the glass from Vanessa and obediently taking a seat on her couch. He sat to the side without cornering himself, and leaned back in a relaxed and non-threatening pose, somehow picking up on the cues of her restless nervousness. It was at this point in time that the spy registered how strategically placed Vanessa’s baubles were on her window ledges. “You’re also no longer blue.”

That was, perhaps, what interested him the most about Vanessa right now, barring her current mental state. Given those limited options, her skin colour was probably the safer choice of topic at the moment. He had run through several possibilities on his way to the X District, coming up with scenarios that mostly concluded with her losing her metamorphing powers. It was either that or she had gained a breakthrough with her powers, given that he did not think she had been able to consciously change the colour of her skin and hair while retaining her own features.

It was also clear that Vanessa was not enjoying her current form.

David took a sip from his tumbler, swirling the amber liquid in his mouth and letting its sharp taste settle on his tongue before swallowing. “Why are you no longer blue, Schatz?”

She had sipped her drink while he sat, using it as a clear excuse to not move just yet. She weighed the options in her head. One arm chair was too close. The other too far. She compromised for the farther corner of the couch, tucking one leg under herself so she could spring up more easily if necessary. There was also a sheathed knife down behind the cushion should a need for it arise. She managed to look fairly casual, but an observant person who had seen her truly relaxed could spot the difference if they looked for it.

"Honestly?" Vanessa shrugged. "I don't know." She chewed on her lip and tried to decide how much to tell him. Working for Snow Valley in and of itself ensured he could keep quiet about anything she told him. Experience reinforced his ability to keep secrets. Whether or not he would was another matter. Vanessa chose to start with disclosing what was already said publicly in her journal. "It just happened. I dropped my mimic of Laura out of the blue while I was sleeping during a marathon of King Fu with Garrison. I was in my base form from then until I tried to leave my apartment the next morning. I walked out the door, turned to the lock the door and noticed my hand looked like this." She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. "I don't know why. And I don't know why I am blonde. If I was reverting to my pre-manifestation state I should be ginger." Vanessa took another sip, then said what she thought everyone assumed but what no one had asked and what she had not yet confirmed. 'I've been stuck like this ever since."

“Stuck?” David repeated, as though testing the word on his tongue as he rolled it around in his head together with its implications. “Stuck as in unable to become blue, or stuck as in unable to become blue or morph into other forms as well?” He hummed a low note lightly under his breath and added, “Did they do anything during your ‘adventure’ that might place an inhibition your powers?”

The German was many things. Being analytical, detail-oriented and sharp-eyed were among his varied on-the-job characteristics as a result of his training earlier on life. But he kept his peace and said nothing despite the fact that her skittishness was subconsciously translating into his inability to completely relax either. David took another long pull from his glass. Personally, he would have placed the alcohol bottle closer at hand, but that may be due to his penchant to drink and then keep drinking.

Although, the more rational side of him reminded him, a drunk Vanessa may or may not be such a good idea at this point in time. So he kept his mind busy with the multiple scenarios that had sprung up in his head. There were only two options, really. Her power problems were either intentionally induced, or mentally induced by Vanessa herself.

"'Stuck,'" she quoted and took another drink, "as in I can't get back to being blue by choice. I couldn't before either. The only time I've been blue since I woke up back here was with Garrison. I couldn't drop Laura's mimic before that, and trust me I'd tried. And I can't shift out of...I don't know, this pigmentation?" Vanessa took another drink, this one longer. "I've never been able to do this before. I've played with Jake's mutation and I am incapable of doing what he can do. But here I am, me but wrong-colored. And I don't know how to undo it. Every time I try...well, I'm still pink, aren't I?"

It was somehow both a relief and a frustration to air these facts. She hadn't told anyone that she couldn't shift back. She hadn't told them that she had tried, that she had done everything she could think of. Yet it was only when she was with Garrison that she had managed to drop her mimic. "I haven't picked up mimics passively since I was a teenager either. I picked up Laura's passively on the plane. Yet I've no idea how I dropped her mimic as I've never been able to do that without being awake."

She wasn't ignoring his other question. Not intentionally. Vanessa did not want to talk about it. Not even insofar as glossing over what they did that could be responsible for her powers misfiring like this. It had been a secret fear of hers since she had woken up as Laura and found herself unable to drop the girl's mimic. "I think they broke something," she finally said after a pronounced silence, though she spoke the words very quietly. "They cut my back open to poke at my spine, they cut my head open and did who knows what to it. They cut most of me open so they could poke around inside." She gave him a wry, almost sad smile. "But there's no scars thanks to Laura." Then she drained the rest of her whiskey and got up to get the bottle to refill it. Somehow she wasn't intent on putting an end to the conversation, but she wasn't sure she could get through it sober. Strange considering her intent need to be aware and in control lately.

David drank his whiskey at a more moderate pace as he mulled over her words. Coming out of the programs he had been through, he was no stranger to bastard scientists mucking around with a mutant’s powers. It never ended with anything good, but humans persisted on being idiots. It was what almost cost him his life in France not too long ago. And what cost Logan his humanity. And what cost a lot of mutants a normal living.

And no matter how strong Vanessa tried to be, things were going to break eventually with her speeding down a rattling track at a breakneck pace as she was. Somewhere along the way as she talked, Vanessa had slipped away from her own mask, voice becoming void of emotion as her gaze grew increasingly distant. Her uneasiness and skittishness, inability to relax and compulsions to check and double check self-constructed safety precautions were all telling signs. Causes of concerns. And while David slept with a gun by his side, he was willing to bet that Vanessa had set things up that he had not yet noticed.

If they had broken anything, they had broken Vanessa’s spirit.

“Could you bring the bottle over, Kätzchen?” He was short on a response to the woman, but alcohol had always proven to be of great comfort in times like these. He knew, however, that if he did not talk, she was likely to misdirect the topic to something a little more mundane, as she had always been wont to do. “So you’re physically well and able to access your powers, but unable to change the colour of your skin? Have you had your blood and DNA tested?”

She eyed the bottle, almost as if she were considering whether or not it was really a good idea to bring it over where it would be within such easy reach. She frowned, then picked up the bottle. "Only for you, iubit." The bottle came back with her empty glass, which she only bothered to refill once she was seated again. All the while Vanessa tried to remind herself that she needed to let her guard down a little or her spine would bear a remarkable resemblance to a board any day now. She left the bottle of whiskey decidedly closer to David than herself before she settled back again.

"I can only access my powers if I can get back into my natural, blue form. But I can't seem to get back to being blue so you can take that as having access or not, I suppose." She sipped her whiskey again, feeling the burn of it down her throat and the very faint tingle somewhere up near her temples she had been unknowingly searching for. "But, no, scumpete, I have not had my blood or DNA tested." She looked down at her left arm. It looked normal and would even if her sleeve was rolled up, but when she looked down she could see the skin peeled away to expose the muscle beneath. A shiver went down her spine without her realizing it was visible. "I can't say I'm keen on volunteering to go back into a medical facility as the last time I was in one I was locked in my room." Vanessa glanced back up at David, her blue eyes locking onto his. "And that was at the mansion."

Well, that was as good as not having access to her powers, that was for sure. David followed her gaze to her arm and only just managed to lift it fast enough to meet hers. For the first time, he wondered if he should be glad that he wasn’t around to witness the aftermaths of her abduction, or not because he hadn’t been around to help. Despite his usual tendencies to disallow himself from getting involved in anything, Vanessa was one of his old colleagues. They had worked with each other and watched each other’s backs. That counted as something, even to David’s deadened heart.

“Perhaps if you manage to draw your own blood, or allow someone else to do it for you, you could send them the blood sample without having to enter any sort of facility.” He held her gaze for a long moment. Then shook his head. “You haven’t been sleeping, Kuschelbär.”

Had he just called her a teddy bear? No, her brain must have made that leap because the end of the word. Vanessa made a mental note to ask someone what that meant. Maybe Doug. Focusing on the German was good, because it gave her something other than visions of her skinned arm to keep in her head. It gave her somewhere to put her attention than on the topic they were discussing. And why was she discussing this at all? Why was she bothering to give David answers she hadn't given anyone else? Because he asked directly, she answered herself mentally. And it's easier with someone I don't matter as much to.

David had feelings, she was sure, because he was human. But he wasn't what she would call prone to attachment. Even now he was likely here more out of curiosity than anything else. Vanessa could see the way he watched and looked her over. It was with an eye for detail. He was studying her. His critical eye didn't bother her, oddly enough. It was almost reassuring. If he was studying her then he wasn't involved enough emotionally for most of this to matter. It was like having the conversation aloud with herself.

"Sleep and I have had some disagreements as of late, amorul meu, it's true. We are what you could consider not on speaking terms, precisely." She had only slept well the nights Garrison had been here and only during the time he was here. Vanessa did not want to consider the many implications of that so she took another long drink. Yet somehow that did not stop her mind from spinning. Did it have to do with having someone else here? Did it have to do with him specifically? Was it those long buried feelings rearing up to bite her in the ass? Was there something about him because he understood being taken and toyed with the way she had been? Was it just because he was such a boy scout that she knew nothing would happen and she could sleep in peace? Without any other instance to measure the experience against Vanessa was left with nothing but spiraling questions.

David would have suggested medicated sleep, but he highly doubted that it would go down well with Vanessa. Instead, he hummed a note of acknowledgement at her words and drank deeply from his glass, reaching for the bottle she had placed near him almost immediately after.

“So you haven’t slept at all since you woke up from your coma?” He asked, once his tumbler was filled a quarter way through. He thunked the bottle down in between the both of them, and traced her face with his eyes again. Her eyebags looked large enough to fit pistols in them. Frankly, the spy thought it was a small miracle that she had not toppled over just yet. “Because the both of you had better start talking to each other and working things out.”

"I sleep." The words didn't come out defensively at all. They were a statement of fact. Then, more sheepishly, she added, "You know, a couple hours a night. Maybe. I get real sleep when Garrison is over here," until the nightmares beat their way into her head, "but that is probably the only time I ever get more than a few hours." Vanessa frowned at herself and then sipped her whiskey, finally slowing her consumption.

He snorted at her first statement, then shook his head at her second. No stranger to sleepless nights and sleeping so lightly one never really left the world of consciousness, David could both relate to and understand what Vanessa was saying. And, more importantly, what she was not saying.

“Garrison?” He asked lightly, a teasing lilt to his tone. “Have you been cheating on me, Knuddel?”

Vanessa pouted at him and put a hand over her heart. "Inimioară, would I cheat on you?" She did her best to look concerned and hurt over his accusation, something that was flawlessly believable. If nothing else, Vanessa was an impeccable liar and actor, which made it all that much clearer that she was so preoccupied with things that she wasn't covering up her crazy very well. "You have nothing to fear from the Mountie, motănel, If you did I suspect I would have been long lost to you." A hint of a grin pulled at the edges of her lips, but Vanessa kept her earnest expression on her face as long as possible.

“Ah, but you slept so well with him around,” David pointed out, still amused as he wagged a finger at Vanessa, entirely unconvinced by her consummate acting. The corners of his eyes crinkled, although his expression remained otherwise straight. “That must mean that you feel safe around him.” Which may actually explain a lot about the aftermaths of Vanessa’s not-so-little ‘adventure’.

“This Garrison must be a ruggedly handsome man. Tall, no doubt, and a Mountie to boot!” He mused, attempting to inject some feelings of hurt into his tone. And quite possibly failing. “And you, meine Schöne, had our fake marriage dissolved. Nien. I’m afraid my self-esteem is not what it once was.”

"He is tall," she admitted hesitantly. "And ruggedly handsome, yes. And an FBI agent on top of being a mountie. But he is a friend and you had disappeared with no word of your destination because of that secretive job of yours." She sniffled, keeping up the act rather than thinking about his theory of feeling safe with Garrison.

Another sip of whiskey and Vanessa was sliding closer to David on the couch. It was so easy when she was focused on her play acting rather than having to be the newly scarred and traumatized person she had to walk around with the rest of the time. When she reached out, hand cupping the side of David's face, it looked natural. It was so easy to hide when the facade was one of flirtation. "Mândrule, he could not compare to you." A very sly smile slid onto her lips. "And there is nothing stopping you from staying the night to...rekindle our lost romance." There was something of a wink deep in her tone, but it easily could have been convinced as part of the flirtation. Which she was mostly sure she didn't mean.

“Tempting me now?” David murmured, balancing his whisky glass on his knee so that he could tuck Vanessa’s fringe behind her ear. Without dislodging her hand, he looked her straight in the eye for a moment, as though to ascertain something. Then a corner of his lips curled upwards in a small smirk. This game Vanessa was playing was a comfortable one for her, familiar, even, and to a smaller extent for him as well. “How do I know you won’t renegade on your words in revenge for my unintended absence, süß Liebster?”

"There is no way to know such a thing, iubit" she replied, teasing note in her voice and a faint smile on her lips. Vanessa's hand shifted, molding to the curve of David's jaw as her thumb idly swept over his cheekbone. "Though, I suppose, amant, you could endeavor to keep me occupied for long enough to erase all memory of your absence. I must warn, however, that could take some time commitment." There were people who she would be digging quite a hole with by saying such things. Vanessa was putting David in the safe category, certain he would not take her seriously or take her up on such implied offers. Though there was a time when she would have made good on such an offer to him if it had not been for them being colleagues. He didn't need to know about that, though.

Turning his head towards her caressing hand, David planted a kiss right on the centre of her palm before giving her a pointed look. “Time commitment, Entlein? You know I do not know what that means.” Though he spoke in a low murmur, there was just the slightest dash of chiding in his tone, fake no doubt, but that held a mistakable warning note. Picking up his glass and conveniently swiping hers in a smooth motion of his hand, the spy filled both with a generous splash of alcohol before offering one back to Vanessa, roguish smile back on his lips. “But just for you, I will endeavour to find out.”

Sometimes games got dangerous when its players made risky moves. Said moves could pay off in an avalanche of returns, but had the nasty tendency of going in the wrong direction. David was not new to such games, and revelled in the thrill of them. But when the risks were too great and the odds not in his favour, he tended to think twice. And when people other than himself could get hurt, he tended to prefer to lose. Suddenly, he was not so sure that Vanessa still played by the old rules of her game.

Her glass paused at her lips as they curled into a smile. She took the kiss to her palm as a playful gesture, though it seemed like something she would do to be legitimately affectionate toward someone. And that came with a flashing warning light. People didn't generally take her flirting seriously. No one but Warren had ever taken her up on it. She had been certain David would not, but what if she was wrong? Vanessa made a mental note to not make such overt gestures that could be taken up and sipped her whiskey.

"Just for me, fluturaș?" She placed a hand over her heart and affected a touched expression. "Perhaps you still love me, after all. Despite my having you pronounced dead?" A hint of a smirk laid under her smile, though it never became pronounced enough to ruin the fond smile she was wearing.

“Ja, my non-existent heart is so full of love for you that it overflows,” David agreed facetiously, sipping from his glass to mask the amused twitch of his lips. She was relaxing now, in her distraction. Which was good. David thought he rather did enjoy seeing her like this. “Though I will make sure to demand recompense for your heartless actions, Mien Frau.”

"Nonexistent?" Without so much as a pause or second thought about it, Vanessa reached out and laid her free hand over her heart. She could feel his warmth even through his shirt. That was probably the whiskey. "Dar, scumpete, I find your heart just fine here." A corner of her mouth turned upward in a half-grin. "Should I see about quickening it to remind you it is there?" Before he could answer her hand fell away, fingertips trailing down the front of his shirt until they pulled away at his waist. With her hand safely laying on her own thigh, Vanessa sipped her drink again an quirked an eyebrow. "And what sort of recompense would you like to demand, soţul meu?"

“The whiskey is playing tricks on you,” was David’s mocking response to her assertions regarding his heart, which was long dead as far as he was concerned. His eyes reflected her half-grin even as he shook his head at her teasing touches. The man, however, made no move to reciprocate or turn them away, choosing to drain his glass as a distraction instead. Dangerous games, he reminded himself, were fun. But once one forgot element of risk, the game was lost. “I don’t suppose you have learned how to cook without burning the kitchen down, Kleine?”

"Inimioară, I have never burned down a kitchen," she defended without missing a beat. "I have set boiling water on fire, but I have not burnt down a kitchen. That said...no. I am strictly a noodles and pre-cooked frozen meat or take out kind of girl." Vanessa sighed. "It's a hard life. I need to bribe people into feeding me more often, I think." The introduction of a topic that was firmly on ground that was nowhere near flirtation territory meant much of Vanessa's flirtatiousness had fallen away rather quickly, tapering off after the endearment had been issued.

“Then you shall compensate me for my declared death by cooking me a meal,” David smiled, tapping his finger against his glass even as he sank back further against the back of the couch, rubbing his free hand in circles against his stomach. He had lost weight in France and was looking to put some back on in the right places. “Drinking this much on an empty stomach cannot be good for either of us. But not to worry, I will make sure you do not set the water on fire again, liebes Herz.”

Vanessa mock swooned. "My hero. Are you sure, iubit, that you wish to risk my cooking?" She gave him a once over and poked him lightly in the stomach. "Though you've lost too much weight so perhaps you cannot afford to be picky. Pity I can't pull the ethnic card and force corned beef and cabbage on you." It was about the only thing she could cook well, thanks to Thom, though she rarely had the patience for it. Which was why she usually ate Laurie's corned beef and cabbage rather than her own.

“I’ll risk it.” Batting her hand away, he patted his stomach and faked a growl. He had only lost a few pounds. Or twenty. “And I’m fine. Come on.” Standing, he placed his empty glass on the coffee table and pulled Vanessa to her feet. “Let’s see what’s in your kitchen before you burn it down.”