milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

The door opens.

"--Just put the rest of the bags in the car, I think I left my sunglasses at the--"

The door closes.

"--register. Goddammit."

Pam huffs an ever-irritated sigh, but she makes her way to the bar anyway. Setting down her shopping bags, she perches neatly and fashionably (pink belted pencil dress with a matching cropped jacket) on a stool and orders a bottle of TruBlood.

Trying on bikinis all night can be exhausting.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Russian perusing the vodka selection behind bar raises an eyebrow, and waggles one of the bottles at Pam.

"Something to make that less gross?"

Pam shakes her head.

"No can do. The only way I can taste and digest vodka is if I fed off of someone who was really into it," she says, raising an eyebrow at her with a smirk.

Katya tsks, taking a bottle off the shelf and cracking the seal.

"Well, I hope your luck in shopping was better."

Pam figured.

"Much better," she replies. "Eric and I are going on vacation to Iceland, so I bought a few bikinis."

Because that is what you do when you're going on vacation to Iceland.

Sometime later, Eric settles down on a stool next to her.
Lounging.

(It helps when you can easily reach the floor while seated).

He nods at the bags.
"You found something?"

Pam gives him a cat-that-ate-the-canary kind of smile.

"Oh, yes," she purrs. "Some very minimal swimwear for the both of us."

One of his eyebrows move up.
Just a little.

"Swimwear?"

He doesn't remember her saying anything about swimwear.
(That is nit to say she hasn't said it).

"If we're going to lounge around in hot springs, we ought to look good doing it, right?" she says.

"All the better to attract humans."

"That's a fair point," he agrees.
"The hotel has their own spring, indoors in their spa section, but I am thinking we ought to go see one of the others as well."

Outside. Beneath the open sky.

"I've ended up booking two adjoining suites."

Pam shrugs and nods.

"You know the place better than I do. As long as it's not too out of the way. You know how I get when I'm too far from civilization.

"And adjoining suites is perfect. We can swap meals easily when we're done with them."

This is Pam being lighthearted and cheerful.

"I do," he says.
He most definitely knows.

"We'll pick one of the nice ones. One that attracts attractive and adventurous humans."
A hot spring with class.

"Well, I sure as hell am not going all the way to Iceland to meet average tourists," she declares with a smirk.

"No tourists," he promises.
"Only locals. And only the ones that are worth the bother."

"Mm, even better," she says with an approving purr. "I have to say, I'm really looking forward to sampling this local flavor."

"I'm quite sure you'll enjoy them," Eric says. "The women tend to be quite self assured."

"Less sexual hangups, too?"

Because those are annoying.

"Oh yes. Then again, it's hard to beat the Americans in that front."

"Well, that's true," she says.

"Oh! I bought you a new robe, too. Black silk with red trim. And a pair of Prada flip-flops. They should be super-comfy."

And super-expensive. Who knew Prada made flip-flops?

A small smile.
"You do think of everything."

His Pam.
She really does.

"Can I see?"

"I know."

She does.

Reaching down for one of the shopping bags, she pulls out a shoebox and sets it on the counter for Eric to open. Inside he'll find a pair of well-made but relatively ordinary-looking flip-flops, except for the very expensive PRADA logo on them. They also have a red-and-black camo pattern.

"I thought they looked kinda fun."

Usually Pam discourages any sort of pattern on Eric, but since these will be under his feet, she supposes its okay.

Eric opens the box.

"I like those."

They are fun. Though they'd be nicer if they were plaid.

He likes plaid. And stripes.

If Eric had stated his preferences aloud, Pam would have visibly cringed.

"Good. I thought you might like them."

She takes the box and slips it back into the bag.

"Your robe and swimsuits are in the car-- yes, I got you more than one pair. Basic colors, red, blue, black. And I know you don't like shorts, so don't worry. They're like Speedos, but more expensive."

Of course.

"And I bought myself bikinis to match," she adds with a playfully sly arch of her eyebrow.

"Good. I don't like wet clothes," he says, stretching a little.

"Skimpy bikinis? "
He hopes so.

To answer his question, she picks up another shopping bag, pink and filled with tissue paper. After searching through its contents for a moment, she pulls out what looks like two small triangular pieces of red, satiny cloth with strings attached.

It's a bikini top.

Pam holds it up by the strings against her currently conservatively clad upper body. Eric can use his imagination.

"Skimpy enough?"

He cants his head a little.
Then he smiles.
Just a little.

"Wanna try it on? And show me?"

Imagination is good.
Seeing things for yourself is better.

She smirks and pops the bikini top back into the bag.

"Nice try, Eric. You're not seeing me in any of these until we get to where we're going."

Eric sniffs.
Disappointed.

"You know I like visuals," he says.

"I know," she says in the wry tones of a mother denying a child a treat. "But you'll need to make do without them for the time being. Besides, I can't wait to see you in your little red swimsuit either."

What's that on your face, Eric?
Is it a pout?

He sighs.

"Fine," he says. "I've booked the plane tickets and a car to the airport."

There is no way he will let his own car languish at the airport parking facility.

Pam enjoys it when she makes Eric pout. It's one of the small pleasures in life.

"Then I guess all we need to do is pack," she says with a light shrug.

Of course, packing means something different to Pam, who intends to bring at least half a dozen bags and suitcases total.

"I've packed," Eric says.

He knows where his wallet is.

She gives him a flat look.

"I know you like to travel light, but seriously, do I have to pack for you?"

"I'll just grab a T-shirt," he says.

That's a yes.

Pam would facepalm. But she doesn't want to mess up her makeup.

"Right," she sighs. "I'll pack for you."

She slides off her stool and smooths out her skirt and straightens her jacket.

"Well. I should get going. I'd give you your credit card back but I have a couple more stops to go."

"Don't blow everything on designer handbags," he says, reaching over to push a stray (or not so stray) lock out of the way.

"Not everything, no," she says wryly.

She then steps closer to him. Close enough so that she's standing between his knees and resting a hand on his arm. And there's a light in her eyes that's only ever there for him.

"I'm glad we're taking this trip. We so fucking deserve it."

"We so fucking do," he agrees.

"Now, get on with your shopping. I have to go see a guy about a duel."

She sighs and shakes her head a little, amused.

"Don't get too much of his blood all over everything."

As she steps away, she runs her fingertips down his arm.

She then picks up her shopping bags and heads for the door, knowing that he's watching her ass in this tight skirt.

Jay spots Pam and vanishes back down to the garage. He returns a few moments later with a spray bottle of clear liquid. "Hey Pam. I've been working on something Eric said you might find useful." He sets the bottle down on the bar.

"Its a hydrophobic treatment for leather. Spray a coat onto your shoes or jackets. If you get blood on them, it'll wipe off without staining."

Pam stares at Jay in a blank why the fuck are you talking to me kind of way until he mentions shoes.

And then she stares at the spray bottle, then back at Jay.

"Really. You made that. I assume you're going to sell it and make a fortune with late-night infomercials."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Just something I whipped up to use on my own gear. Like I said, Eric thought you might appreciate it."

After a moment, she takes the bottle.

"Well. I suppose it'll come in handy. I can save a lot of favorite shoes and outfits with it."

She just said thanks, Jay. Take it.

Jay takes the win, as small as it is and gives her a little salute, turning to walk away without another word.

Pam's lips twitch. She's starting to really like Jay. He's smart enough to know when conversations with her are done.

She slips the bottle into one of her shopping bags and turns back to her drink.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only