milliways_bar | (no subject)

Grace saunters out of Captain Perry's office, already tapping a cigarette from her pack, and tries not to smile. The guys are all looking at her, thinking she's in trouble with their new boss. Quite the opposite. Perry's an old friend from Vice and if Grace loved laughter any less, she'd warn Butch about being all UT in her face, at least for awhile; but he’s been a big boy in a unit full of Sooner fans for years now. It'll be entertaining.

She shoulders open the door to Major Crimes, then the stairwell, and mutters a half-hearted curse. Milliways. A few days without Earl’s making her soft. Whatever, it’s still a bar. Better to smoke with a drink than without one.

When Bar gives her the note, Grace tosses back her head and laughs. She looks at it again; laughs again.

"Sure thing. I could use time to think."

Because pouring drinks in between drinking her own will help her figure out why the motel manager got dead in one of his guest rooms. Obviously. Pushing her hair back, she pulls some not-so-random drink ideas from the proffered book and goes to work on the specials board.

HAPPY HOUR!

Absolut Hell
Holy Water
Jack and coke
and
Shots of Yukon Jack

Dance with the bartender, get a free shot. Bartender's choice.

Smirking, Grace rummages around behind Bar until she finds the sound system remote and cranks the volume to almost too loud. The classic rock already playing suits her fine. Time to shake up this place, she thinks. Time to shake Earl loose.

"Belly up, people. What'll be?"

(tiny tags: Grace Hanadarko, Cal Chandler, Michael, the Pirate King)

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By all appearances, Grace doesn't seem to handle this well. It's not really a surprise, given she still thinks Earl has something to do with her finding the door here -- if not the entire set up. But to hear Cal casually confirm as much just pisses her off.

Grace drops an empty beer bottle near her foot and curses. Turning away from Cal, she throws a rag at the sink, picks up a tray of silverware only to slam it down again and scowls at the floor. "Shit!"

Cal starts at the crash.

"- Grace? You all right?"

She might have dropped the bottle on her foot or something, but Cal remembers her flash of temper from last time, and he's thinking probably not.

"Yeah," she answers at last, flashing a grin his way. "Fingers slipped."

She calmly taps some glass off her boot and walks back over.

"Angels in a bar. Suppose that means I'll have to start going to confession."

Ha.

Cal accepts the explanation, but watches her over his coffee mug.

"Don't see why," he says. "What goes on in Milliways doesn't have to mean anything for your world. They're all different, I think, with their own afterlives and what-have-you."

It's the only explanation he can come up with for there being not only multiple versions of the Devil, but gods and goddesses from different pantheons.

Last time she'd grudgingly accepted the end of the universe. This time it seems she can't escape from the idea of different worlds and times, which makes this all bigger somehow.

Bigger than heaven and hell, or the arrival of Earl.

Big enough that she starts shelving the crazy argument. Too many cops make the evidence fit their theories. It's easier that way, but easy isn't right.

"Okay," she says, after some thinking. "I want to meet your Devil."

Whoops.

". . . I'll have to run that by him," Cal says. "He - doesn't like people knowing who he is unless he tells them himself."

It's been a point of contention between them in the past. Cal doesn't believe in lying, not anymore.

On the other hand, though, this is at least better than that mess with Bela, who would sooner eat her own hand (or wear polyester) than talk to Sam again after she put two and two together about who he was. Of course, Bela knows for a fact that she's damned to hell, no wiggle room (at least not on her world, but they will find something here to save her, they will), which does make all the difference. For now.

Grace is a loyal friend at heart, so she says "Sure, I'll play it however you need" and doesn't push.

She'll just keep her eyes and ears open in the meantime. He did say there was more than one.

"Any other interesting people I should meet?" she adds with a cheeky grin.

"I'll ask next time I see him." Cal's not sure how thrilled Sam will be about that, but at least it's all upfront.

He sips his coffee, thinking, then grins. "I met the Roman goddess of door hinges," he says. "I swear to - well, her, I guess."

"Door hinges?" she asks, incredulous. Then she grins. "Crap. I'm probably on her shit list, too. You know how many of those things I've broken?"

A lot.

Cal laughs.

"I wouldn't bring that up if you do run into her," he advises. "She takes it very seriously." Of course. Being as it's the reason for her existence and all.

"Duly noted," Grace laughs back. "But I'm throwing a goddamn party if I run into Venus or some other god or goddess of sex."

Her smile is both suggestive and mischievous.

Cal's one encounter with Demeter, unfortunately, did not run in that direction, so he doesn't think to bring her up. His familiarity with Greek mythology is sketchy at best.

"i'll keep an eye out for an invitation," he says, his own smile mirroring Grace's.

"You'll be first on the list," she assures him, leaning over Bar again so her face is close to his. Still smiling, she runs her eyes from his all the way down his torso. "You just let me know if you ever want to make that a private party."

Tonight isn't a night for subtlety.

Then again, Grace doesn't think many nights are.

"I'm always in the mood for a private party." Cal leans in, closing the distance the rest of the way, and kisses Grace.

Cal, as a general rule, wouldn't know subtlety if it bit him.

Grace makes a low, approving noise and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him like she has no intention of stopping. There's nothing teasing about it now. She uses a cooler for leverage and hikes herself up higher on the bar; at this rate and as light as she is, a good tug would land her in his lap.

"You got any plans tonight?"

Cal winds an arm around her waist as they kiss. When they break, he smiles and leans his forehead against hers.

"Well," he says, "there's this cute bartender . . ."

She laughs happily and tilts her head a bit to the left, enough for him to see her grin.

"Word is bartender's free in an hour."

Her laughter is contagious; Cal laughs too and says,

"Perfect. I hope her schedule's wide open after that."

Another kiss that's a promise and challenge all wrapped in one, and she lets go.

"Count on it."

Grace walks backwards down the length of the bar to go serve other customers, leering teasingly at Cal.

Maybe Bar can pay her with a room key.