milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Bill is downstairs after some breakfast. He sits down at the counter, and before he can even ask, Bar provides him with a loaded plate; eggs, bacon, sausage, hashbrowns, a short stack of pancakes, a cup of coffee and orange juice.

Bill grins at the offering, and is about to say thank you when a newspaper appears. Looking at the front page headline his smile falls.

Mardi Gras in Miami

It's not really the headline, but the part underneath that tells how the Saints defeated the Colts 31-17 in the Superbowl that's just killed his good mood.

Bill lifts the paper and shakes his head.

"Aw, c'mon, no. I didn't even know they were playin'."

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Kate nods, sneaking a crumble of bacon from one of the strips on Bill's plate.

Popping it in her mouth, she gives him an appraising sideways glance.

"Any plans after breakfast?"

"She's a popular girl," Bill says with a smile. He sees her bacon thievery, and is about to react, but then he sees the sausage and decides to take care of that quick so it doesn't bother her.

"No, no plans. D'you?"

He gives her an expectant smile and partially raised eyebrow.

She can't help a tiny smile when she spots his sausage-centered focus.

(Though really, she meant what she told him once; just because she dislikes it doesn't mean it bothers her when other people eat it.)

"Maybe."

Her eyes flick to the newspaper, and she gives him a grin that's equal parts teasing and hopeful.

"We could change and head outside so you can show me what Manning should've done in that game."

His own smile grows and he nods, not even worrying about defending Manning right this moment.

"Sure, we could do that. Y'wanna head t'the beach, or we gonna play the snowbowl?"

Pretending to give the question serious thought, she waggles her eyebrows for comic effect.

"You tell me, sheriff."

Bill laughs at that look.

"I'm tempted t'say snow, but somethin's tellin' me beach is a better answer."

She tilts her head, unable to mask her grin.

"We can play in the snow, if that's what you want."

This time Bill gives the matter serious thought before shaking his head.

"Nah, I'd much rather see you dressed for the beach than all bundled up."

He also adds the eyebrow waggling.

"You just don't want to wind up with snow in your pants."

"That ain't even it."

Bill shakes his head at her, smugly grinning.

"You're just tryin' t'reverse psychologize me, because you think y'can win in the snow or somethin'."

He shakes his head at her, making a 'tsk'ing sound.

"I'm on t'you."

Mischief lights her eyes.

"You're right," she says, her smile widening. "You're hoping I tackle you in a two-piece."

"I wouldn't mind givin' up yards for that," he admits, smirk forming.

Her cheeks heat and she refocuses on her smoothie.

"Now you're just hoping flattery makes it happen."

Bill draws back with a casual shrug, and turns his focus back to his breakfast, mixing some of his eggs with the hash browns.

After a minute he glances over.

"Is the flattery workin'?"

She can't help a laugh.

"Maybe."

A beat.

"You'll find out after breakfast."

That sounds rather promising to him, so he works a bit faster on his meal.

Pushing aside his plate, he finishes his coffee and takes a breath.

"I might need just a few before headin' out."

It was a Big breakfast.

She swirls the chunks of pineapple at the bottom of her glass with her straw.

"I think I can spare some time for you," she says, pushing away what little that's left of the smoothie and reaching for his hand. "Let's get changed while you digest."

He gives her hand a squeeze and stands.

"You think y'can?"

He shakes his head, bumping her lightly with his arm.

"I know you will, 'cause y'like me."

She hooks an arm around his as they head upstairs.

"Somebody's cocky."

"Am not, just statin' fact," He says, then pauses and looks down at her.

"Y'do like me, don't'cha?"

She stops a few feet short of the door to the suite, turning to face him.

"Nope."

She shakes her head for emphasis.

"It's not like."

His smie warms, and he gives her fingers a squeeze.

"Okay, not like, which is even more reason for you t'be nice to me."

She laces her fingers with his, biting her lower lip to tamp down her own smile.

"Is that so?"

"It is." He nods.

"There's a rule book somewhere that says so."

A second eyebrow arches to join the first.

"And does this book say why it's a rule, exactly?"