Felicia and Kevin, meetings in a bar after new years

After several weeks of her avoiding him, Kevin finally finds Felicia by herself and with enough wine to talk. Backdated to the XForce trip to France over NYE.

The back of Michael's bistro was largely empty on the winter night. A half dozen of the regulars, most in their sixties, sat at the bar or at tables nearby, watching the football feed on the one television on the corner of the bar. They argued quickly and fiercely over plays on the field, political opinions (usually about the British), the obnoxiousness of tourists (usually about the British) and decades old local gossip (usually about Lisette, who had an affair with a British tourist). Felicia's table in the alcove was reading light level, the local wine (which they'd all taken to) in a decanter next to her and a book on her tablet.

The glass hit the table across from her at the same time as the man slid into the seat across from her. "You've been avoiding me, but I knew you'd make a mistake at some point. You foolishly chose a seat in a place that has more than three old men on their own in it. The network delivered me your location in seconds."

"Curse my trusting nature," Felicia deadpanned, her screen dimming as she lay the tablet down. "I was avoiding you. Now I'm not. Is this going to be a talk about our feelings weirdly intensely, or a pretend it never happened visit? Either way I'm probably going to get drunk."

"Lady's pleasure. I've done my level of oversharing lately, so it isn't a bother." He said, taking a sip. "I actually don't quite know why you've been avoiding me and after decades as a spy, not knowing something is like a horrible itch."

Felicia rolled her eyes, swallowing the larger mouthful of wine she'd taken in preparation. "Well, if it's a spy itch, sure. You have repeatedly been nice to me for no apparent reason, with the Warren thing especially since you understandably don't even like him plus you were apparently not answering anyone else trying to contact you, and I don't like owing people things but somehow keep asking you for help and feelings are terrible. In short."

"That was in short?" Kevin smiled. "You don't owe me anything. I've been trying to learn some things, and helping Warren kicked that into high gear. So I think I owe you a bit."

"In short, feelings are terrible," Felicia corrected with a tone easy to confuse with cautious, maybe confused. She paused, trying not to just finish the rest of her glass in one throw back of her head, eyes darting away. "I don't really know what to say to that. I want to tell you we're even but. I don't think. Are we not keeping score?"

"We're not keeping score, kid. I helped Worthington because I wanted to, and don't tell him that. And I'm willing to help you without anything back."

Felicia gave a small smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she picked up her glass with the other hand. "That just seems like poor long term planning but you do you. I can't be mad about it. I don't get it, mind you, but. Not mad. Won't let anyone know you're secretly a softie."

"New nickname, though. I'm too fabulous to be 'kid'."

"Are you? I mean, I grew up with Hepburns. That is a high bar to clear. I mean, you've got a little Garbo and a little Kelly, but still." He gave her a slight smile, more ironic than anything. "No... Veronica Lake... that's the look."

"I'm pretty sure you just called me ultimately tragic but with great hair which is accurate but also cuts deep, Sydney. Give me a middle, nicer ground here, no one is good enough for the Hepburns," Felicia replied, tossing her fringe from the untucked side of her hair over one eye and recrossed her legs, leaning back slightly.

"Hollywood was always tragic, doll." He said with a grin and waved back to the bar for some of the local cognac. "How about Jean Harlow? Tragic, but the original Marilyn Monroe."

"Cut out the bit about the original Marilyn because women don't need to be put up against each other especially when it's a caricature of themselves, and sure," Felicia retorted and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Maybe we should make this easy and just stick to doll."

"I'm good with doll. I grew up on hard boiled detectives and dangerous women who looked like you."

Felicia laughed suddenly, breaking it to take a sip of her wine. "Are you saying that under very different circumstances because weird I'm your type, Sydney?"

"Oh no. My type is wealthy, degenerate and doesn't ask too many questions. Women like you are fun but entirely too much work." He winked, refusing to get too sincere. "That's why all of the detectives in the movies drink heavily."

"All I heard there was that I totally am, but I'll support the drinking heavily even if we're pretending," she shot back, smiling at the bartender when he brought her another carafe, pouring her the first glass. "It's nice here. Rich people quaint but not too Queen's Hamlet."

"Lots of working people, surprisingly. Older folks. Looks like they didn't let money push out the locals. The Baron's influence, you think?"

Felicia shrugged nonchalantly, very pointedly drinking her wine. "Probably. I just said it was nice, Sydney, I'm not giving the guy a medal for not being the usual shit heel."

"I suggested a possible reason, not a parade." Kevin was very old and yet, even he was reminded that women were not to be understood. "What I like is the local flavour. Nothing like a house wine that is literally made by the house."

"Usually in the basement, or the shed out back that used to hold the car no one drives anymore. I miss when house wine didn't just mean cheapest shit we could get by the gallon." Felicia idly swirled her glass, watching as an impeccably dressed older woman was poured a glass of champagne by the owner, holding her other hand. She released a breath, warm. "Sure. Local flavour."

"The funny thing about Europe is that it is impeccably good by our standards and likely is still the cheapest shit they can get by the gallon. Or, well, litre." He followed her look to the couple. "You having... what did Gabe call them? Relationship goals, Hardy?"

"They deserve it because they're better than you." Felicia flicked her focus over, eyebrow arched. "I'm not sure, I wasn't there for your intimate moment with Gabriel. I was merely admiring the lady's stylist. That whole brand is goals. Impeccable tailoring."

"Sure. You're all impartial and just admiring her style." He took a sip and smiled. "I promise not to out your romantic side."

Felicia smiled back at him, tilting her head. "Romance just gets you dead, sweetheart. Or them, or both. I don't have to remind you of that."

"Bullshit. Romance is what makes you alive, sweetheart. I was never more dedicated to my job than when I was married. I had something to fight for. To protect." Sydney said with a quirk of his mouth. "You want to be a lone wolf, so be it. But you want to be a lone wolf and pretend that you can carry relationships at the same time, forget it."

"Oh my god, I am regretting my not avoiding you choices, you are a lot today. Okay," Felicia said, allowing herself a sip of wine, holding her hand up before he could interject. "No. Relationships make life, and given they are in a limited, cultivated number, are perfectly acceptable. I give you case A through Z, Warren, who is an idiot but my idiot and I'll die for him until the day he goes too far and I won't."

"Sex, and thus most romance, on the other hand, makes people morons."

"You don't think most greater thoughts are moronic? Tell me what you believe in and then prove it." Kevin drained his glass and refilled it. "I've watched men die for a flag. I've watched people survive incredible torture to support a regime that couldn't care less about them. I've watched people sacrifice themselves for love and for justice. If it doesn't matter, why does it keep happening? Because we all want something bigger than ourselves. Whether it is true or not, that's what we want."

"You seem to be operating under the assumption that I want your personal monologue troop rally," Felicia shot back. "I get that you're old and you want to be inspirational or something but maybe talk down a little less. I'm not asking for a revelation here, I'm saying that for me? Sex and feelings means bad shit. And it's not an uncommon story."

"That's your choice." Kevin put up his hands in surrender. "I think you're wrong, but if that's what you believe, I respect not to challenge that. I apologize."

There was a pause as Felicia mentally took a step back before she gently tipped her head to the side at him, just shy of acquiesce. "Thank you. It's also a touchy subject, apparently."

"What was she like?" she continued in almost the same breath.

"My wife? Smart. Funny. Beautiful. She could have done so much better than me." Kevin paused, running his finger around the edge of his glass. "She wanted a family. When she died, I talked to her grandchildren. They loved her so much. She was so focused on them." Kevin said, haltingly and tired.

"You didn't want kids?" Felicia asked, draping her arm along the back of her chair so the tips of her fingers rested along the blade of his shoulder.

"Couldn't have them. We tried for twelve years." He shook his head. "At the end of the day, she needed a family and I couldn't do that for her. Which is fair."

"Well, fuck." Felicia paused, a horrified silence. "And it was what? The fifties? Adoption..."

"We talked about it, thought about it a lot. End of the day, she was honest that she wanted to raise her kids. It wasn't as uncommon an opinion as you think." He took a sip. "So that's my tale of woe; a marriage dissolved because having her children was more important than her current husband. Let's be honest, it also didn't help that my work had me coming and going at all hours, never really able to talk about things with friends and, oh yes, my charming way with stupid people. She made the right choice in the end."

"I'd say you're doing a very good job proving my point but I'm trying out, very poorly, this new thing where I'm less of a monster to people I don't hate," she replied, taking a long swallow of her wine with a grimace. "Plus now I'm too depressed. Fuck. I know you don't need it? Want it? But I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

"I appreciate it but... I wasn't a great husband. General infidelity, took a lot of things for granted. I'd argue it was the culture of the time, but really, I made enough bad decisions that she didn't divorce me for, I can't fault her for the reason she did." Kevin said, a little surprised he was talking about this. "And as far as I can tell, she found the happiness she deserved. Oddly, I'm glad about that."

Felicia tilted her head, warm. "I'm not saying you were without fault, there were clearly some issues there that needed some discussion that maybe the fifties didn't have in abundance but. You loved her. You obviously loved her, you let her go."

"There's part of me that still loves her. Which I'm sure some shrink will be happy to charge me a grand to explain how my relationships since have been shallow or transactional in nature."

"I mean, I'm just a mousey accountant who knows nothing of this world but. Sweetheart." Felicia let her hair fall over one eye again, this time a smile on the other side. "I'll tell you the same thing, don't even have to pick up my tab."