Act 1 Scene 2

... and then he said to me "sweet cheeks why don’t you step this way" but I had it up to here with his interfering, so I rolled my eyes and fired a warning shot, but my aim was of and I clipped his foot. That’ll teach the leacherous bastard. Bethany stirs at her cocktail before taking a sip. Anyway enough about me, play me some sweet chin music of your own.

The door to the bar opened and shut. Danny turned right abruptly, tugging his coat's collar up as he brushed between the bouncer and a sticky-looking table. Danny beelined to one of the side tables; there was nothing he was interested in AT the bar, only behind it. He deliberately avoided looking that way, having no desire whatsoever to draw the attention of the duplicitous shrew who was presently deep in conversation into Big Jo, and would hopefully remain occupied until his business was concluded, or at least well on it's way to conclusion. He was a professional, but even Danny had his limits, and he'd been thrown under the bus by her one too many times to keep a cool head. He took a seat in one of the booths, his nose wrinkling as his boot knocked over a cup that had been left on the floor. It looked like iced tea, but in this place you could never be sure. He shook his head, twisting the small knob in the middle of the table. An attractive (if dated) hologram waitress appeared, winking coyly.

"Hiya W.I.N.," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the neon-red projection. "Hiya Danny," she said at maximum volume, "How's tricks?" The Cleaner rubbed his bridge of his nose, mashing the volume reduction key in vain.

"Just fuckin' peachy, W.I.N... Thanks fer askin'."

Beth notices someone enter, simply because it was clear they were trying to avoid her, a coy smile spreads across her face as she orders two drinks and heads over to the booth. Danny my boy, I’m surprised to see you here, I’d heard you were coolin your heels. She passes the Cleaner a drink Or did your friend Adrian let you out?

The Cleaner looked up at Beth, then down to the two drinks in her hand. A sardonic glimmer lit his face as he raised an eyebrow. "Two drinks? Jeez, ya must be thirsy, Beth."

He pointedly ignored the offered beverage, looking instead out of the dingy window at the pouring rain and bustling crowds as he continued. "Addy had nothin' ta do with it; that punk deBoer hauled me in without a warrant or probable cause. Just sloppy police work, that's all." He smirked ruefully; getting taken in wasn't a particularly big deal, but he was still going to have to figure out a way to spin it if he wanted to retain his spotless reputation.

He continued, almost absentmindedly. "Y'know, I think it's because the little shit's scared of me. Prolly thinks I'll be waitin' in the back seat of 'is Cruiser right about now, hehe. It gives me a little joy, that thought... unlike present company." This time, he met her gaze... and Danny's eyes could have curdled milk that was still in the cow. His words fell dead and flat as he spit them onto the table in front of her. "Now that the pleasantries are outta the way, d'you need me fer somethin', or are ya just relishin' the memory of the look on my face when I caught ya with that soldier?"

When it become clear Danny wasn’t accepting a drink Beth sculls down the first before starting to slowly sip on the second. Though with his last remark a hurt expression crosses her face. I don’t need anything from you Danny, I was just checking up on you. I’m sorry about that miss understanding, you know I am. I thought you knew I was poly... she smirks for a moment or that the night we shared with Caitlyn would have made that clear.

It took everything he had to fight back the smile he felt growing; watching her down the first drink effortlessly reminded him of the parts of Beth he didn't hate. Though the list was growing shorter with every moment he brooded on it, it was still a lot longer than most folks, which just made it hurt even more. He sighed, his fingers drumming on the table, half out of stress and half to keep from reaching out to her... Again. Like a sucker. The hurt look in her eye felt good, but in a sick-to-the-stomach kind of way; it felt like hurting a puppy. He pushed his fingers through his hair, acutely aware of the fact that continuing the conversation was probably a mistake. "Ah shit... I'm sorry too Beth. I turn into an asshole when I'm workin' too much." He offered up a half-smile apologetically. "Thanks fer askin', by the way; not too many do that anymore." A jolt of nostalgia bit into him like a rusty boxcutter as he found himself apologizing yet again... but the words were already out, and there was no taking them back.

Beth cocks an eyebrow at that last comment, You haven’t found yourself a new partner? You know just because we’re no long partners in bed doesn’t mean we can’t still be partners in crime...

Danny froze for a moment, realizing he'd revealed more than he'd intended once again. The damn minx was better at getting info out of people than a half dozen Downtown Dragons with baseball bats, another fact he added to the list of things he didn't care for. Setting aside his personal feelings though, Danny knew that having Bethany on his side could prove advantageous, particularly considering the things he had planned for the near future... She could probably smell the money coming from a mile away. In the interest of maintaining what little poker face he had left, he tilted his head curiously.

"Since when are you interested in my... particular line of work? Pardon the sexism, but it's hardly work suitable for a lady of your stature."

She was one of the few people he was taller than in this damn city, so he felt was allowed a short joke or two at her expense.

Beth’s eyebrows skyrocket. Have you forgotten my line of work? I think I can handle what you get up too.

Danny paused, trying to recall what exactly it was that Beth said she did. Their meetings had tended to involve very little conversation, but when they did talk... well, Danny often had a real challenge trying to concentrate on what she was saying. He coughed, averting his eyes and attempting to dodge the question.

"It don't matter, particularly... nasty business, all in all, but ah... I can't exactly afford to be picky. I ain't exactly got folks linin' up round the block to do what I do, eh heh, so any help you'd offer would be welcome." He noticed that W.I.N. was stuck in a loading cycle, and the small CPU under the dingy table was letting off an uncomfortable amount of heat. He switched the digital waitress off, hoping that he'd managed to trigger the shutdown sequence before W.I.N. lit his pants on fire.

Again.