When Ash had finished with his affairs for the day it was late afternoon. He asked after Lynne and was told she was with Anders.  When he walked into the nursery, he found her sitting on the rocking chair by the window, Anders in her arms, and her feeding him a bottle. Her eyes were on the view outside, and she rocked slowly.  She was humming something barely loud enough for the baby to hear.

He leaned against the door frame, content to just watch her, a smile on his face.  She reminded him of a Renaissance Madonna, with the late afternoon light streaming in the window and onto her profile.  He'd never imagined he'd ever have this, not since the moment he was turned.  When she stirred and looked towards him, his smile grew.  "Hello sweetheart."

"Would you like to hold your son?"  she asked.

He grinned.  "Sure," he said, taking Anders from her and putting a diaper over his shoulder.  "I suppose he needs to burp now?"

"You look like you know what you're doing," she replied watching him as he held the baby and tapped him gently on the back, walking the length of the room and back again.

"Were you serious about this morning?" she asked after she'd given him time to commune with Anders for a bit.

"About what?" he asked.

"Asking me to see to plans to redecorate and about a massive party at the Cliff House."

"And renovate," he said.  "Perfectly, if you want to do it.  You don't have to otherwise.  I've used professional party planners before.  And I can get Cayden or Dec to handle the renovations."

"I'd need a budget and available funds for each," she replied quietly.

He studied her face for a moment and laid the now sleeping Anders in his bassinet.  Then he took both her hands and pulled her up and into his arms, holding her lightly.  "What's wrong?"

"Firstly I'm not very good at being dependent," she replied. "Secondly I'm not happy when I feel useless."

"And not paying rent and utilities makes you dependent?" he asked.  "Or was it my assumption that you had the free time?"

"And food and childcare and everything else. All at a level far beyond my means.  And no, I did not think you made an assumption regarding my free time."  She sighed. "I suppose it's a function of having my sense of self so profoundly change. Even as I'm becoming more comfortable with the physical aspects of those changes, I'm examining my .. well, everything else. And I'm not sure about much of anything."

"So how can I help you with all of this?"

"As you say you were serious about the renovations, then I'd be glad to do it, as it will keep my mind occupied. But I also do need you to give me an idea of what is reasonable moneywise and what isn't.  I don't mind the party either. I've set up enough showings that it is pretty much the same thing."

"And long term?  Because that's just temporary.  I don't want you giving up things that are important to you unless it's what you want,'' he said.  "More than anything else, I want you to be happy.  I can only imagine how hard all this is for you."

"Didn't you go through this?  Or am I just being an emotional wreck because of the hormones?  But then I'm not even sure I have any hormones..."

"I wasn't grappling with sudden and unexpected fatherhood, being Awakened, or everything else you've got on top of becoming a vampire.  So there was an adjustment, both the first raw change and then years of dealing with the ramifications"

"Years," she repeated faintly.

"You've stopped aging.  But everyone, or most everyone you know hasn't," he said gently.  "That the most obvious one.  On the other hand you aren't alone and I was for the most part."

"I've got to figure out what to do about my parents," she groaned. "They're frail already."

"Then it probably won't arise with them.  Though Anders will be something of a surprise, I'd imagine,"  he said, threading his fingers into her hair, drawing it away from her face.  "I'm so sorry, sweetheart.  Just trust me, you aren't useless.  You're vital to both me and Anders.  Incredibly vital.  So really it's we who are dependent on you."

She leaned into his touch. "Forgive me if I point out that you've been doing just fine without me for how many centuries?" she asked with a smile.

"No, not just fine.  Just doing," he whispered against her hair.  "I can't quite figure out how I managed it, now that I know what it's like having you in my life."

"You men," she laughed. "So horribly capable of unleashing destruction but suddenly dependent on a woman.  It seems very odd to me, even if Dinah, Doni, and Betty Jo assure me it is so."

"You are my life," he said quietly, suddenly intent.  "I don't know how or why it happened.  I don't care.  I only know it's true.  I will love you until I meet the true death and beyond, unto the end of eternity.  I had no desire or ambition for a love as consuming and total as this one.  I'm enough of a coward that I'd have avoided it if I could.  Now I wish for nothing more than to spend the rest of my life holding you just like this.  I will spend the rest of my life vulnerable to slightest change of your expression, the smallest sense of need or unhappiness and I will never regret it.  And I would do anything if it meant your happiness, even letting my arms fall from around you and watching you leave."

"Please. Don't talk like that. It's rather frightening to think I'm responsible for so much."

"It's not you who's responsible.  But you are vital."  He kissed her hair, his eyes closed, inhaling the light flowery scent of it.  "And I love you."

"I hope you've got a few hours to show me how much."

"I've always got time for that," he said, lifting her in his arms.

Buffy stared at herself in the mirror and frowned.

Lynne, not far behind her grinned. "You look lovely."

Buffy groaned. "I feel like an idiot."

"Did you when you wore the red dress all the guys still talk about to dinner?" Lynne asked.

"Yes. I just hid it."

"Okay," Lynne said, firmly suppressing a grin, "Pretend again. Trust me he'll love it.

Buffy wore a mostly black but with one red shoulder sleeveless knee-length cocktail dress.  It had a mandarin collar, and frog closures along the diagonal dividing line red to black. It fit her curvy figure perfectly, which was probably why Buffy didn't like it.

"I won't be able to run in these shoes," Buffy complained. She wore a pair of strapped sandals, with high heels.

"Well, you can just zap yourself along if you have to run, or zap yourself up a pair of chucks," Lynne replied. "Stop complaining."

Lynne pushed Buffy down into a chair and worked a little magic with the french twist that held Buffy's hair up. She loosened several tendrils to fall suggestively on Buffy's neck.

"They itch," Buffy whined.

"Be quiet," Lynne ordered, looking Buffy over one last time. She hadn't insisted Buffy use more makeup. Buffy really didn't need much in that department.  The earrings were simple diamond studs. Small ones.

"There, I think you're quite perfect. Come on, let's go downstairs so the guys can ogle you BEFORE Chase gets here."

"Why wouldn't he let me meet him at the restaurant," Buffy groused as she let Lynne take her hand and draw her toward the stairs.

"Hush, let's get you through the male gauntlet, dignity intact," Lynne said and walked down the staircase behind Buffy frowning fiercely at the men gathered at the foot of the stairs.

Cayden looked at Dec and Damon and nodded.  On cue all three let out an ear splitting wolf whistle.

Buffy flushed bright red. "Courage, mon enfant," Lynne whispered with a giggle.

"Aw, we made her blush," Dec said.  "You really are a beautiful woman, Elizabeth.  Truly.  I can't figure out why you're uncomfortable with it though."

"Because," Lynne replied before Buffy could, "she prefers to be appreciated for her abilities rather than her looks. Just like you three do."

"Actually," Cayden said, "We mostly prefer to be appreciated for both."

"And I can't believe," Damon added, "that after all these years, she doesn't know we're all in awe of her abilities.  But if you don't honey, we are, all of us.  And we're really glad you're ours and not someone else's."

"What he said," Ash said, offering her a hand down the last few steps.

"Oh," Buffy replied. "Thanks, guys."

"So where is he taking you?" Lynne asked.

"Dinner and, if we're still taking after that, maybe for a drink. I think."

"So who is this guy?" Damon asked.

"Just a guy," Buffy replied. "Seems nice."

Cayden folded his arms across his chest, polite disbelief on his face.  "Just a guy?"

"Yes.  He isn't rich, he isn't special, he's just a guy."

Cayden shook his head.  "Buff, he can't be just a guy if you're going out with him.  He's the first guy you've dated the whole time we've known you."

"Well, maybe he's the first one who asked me, okay?" she muttered defensively.

They all sat in the living room and Lynne, making herself comfortable on the arm of Ash's chair, asked, "What made you say yes?"

"I don't know. He's .. I don't know," Buffy replied, looking down at her hands.

"It's serious," Damon said.

She looked up at him her eyes narrowing. "It is not serious. He's just persistent and I got tired of saying no. And besides, he's polite, unlike you three."

Dec laughed.  "Yeah, maybe.  But we love you and you love us."

"I'm trying very hard to remember that right now," Buffy retorted.  He'd better not be late. She was liable to deck one of them pretty soon.

On cue the doorbell rang and the sounds of Henry answering it could be heard.  A moment later he appeared at the door of the living room.  "Mr. Chase Callahan for you Miss Elizabeth," he said with a slight bow and then departed leaving Chase in the doorway.  He took in the occupants with a swift glance and then his whole attention was fixed on Buffy.  "Hello," he said, smiling sympathetically.

Buffy stood. "Hi. Uhm, my boss Ashley Jacobs, his partner Lynne Winters, and these three are Declan, Damon and Cayden. Sorry. They think they're big brothers."

Lynne smiled and stood, and walked toward him with her hand out. "Very pleased to meet you, Chase."

"The pleasure's mine, ma'am," he said, his Texas drawl broadening and his eyes appreciative.  He ignored the sotto voce "No doubt" from one of the brothers."  Ash's lips quivered at the words.

"Come in, have a seat. Or would you prefer a dignified retreat with Elizabeth on your arm?" Lynne asked, her lips twitching.

"That's entirely up to the lady," he said, his own lips no quite steady.

"I'm ready," Buffy said, standing up and heading toward Chase. She looked back, "Don't wait up."

The boys just grinned.  "Have fun Buff," Damon said.

"You've got money for the pay phone if you need help right?" Dec asked.  "Or a taxi?"

"I'm charging it, if needed, to your card, Dec," she retorted and all but drug Chase out the door.  She slammed the door behind them. "See, that is why I wanted to meet you at the restaurant."

"And that's why I want to pick you up.  They'd be even worse if they hadn't met me," he said, opening the taxi door for her.  "That last wasn't directed at you.  It was a message for me about how long I'll live if I hurt you. They wouldn't do it they didn't care about you."

She got in the taxi and waited until he'd given the cabbie directions before she said, "That's nonsense, Chase. They care about one another and don't act like that. It's... paternalistic."

"It's a guy thing," he said.  "I didn't invent it.  I'm just translating for you.  And they don't act that way about each other because they aren't dating their sister.  It's akin to the fact that they'd shove you out of the way of a bullet even if they had to take the hit to do it.  And it's got nothing to do with your abilities."

She frowned at him, but thought better of a retort. She could hardly say she'd kill any one of them herself if they did any such thing.

"So, uhm, how have you been?" is what she opted for. She winced. She really did suck at small talk.

"Good.  Busy with work and the mundane details of life.  And very glad to see you," he said.

"Oh. Thanks. I've been really busy too. And the boss suddenly has all these new plans I have to deal with. Oh well.  You know, we could just go to McDonald's."

"No we can't.  I might get grease on my suit."

"Oh, well, it was a thought. Can we go Dutch treat?"

"No.  Can you tell me what the problem is?"

"I'm just.. You don't have to spend a lot of money on me, Chase. A hot dog in the park is fine. Really."

Maybe it's me I'm spending the money on and you're just camouflage," he suggested.

She sighed and shook her head. "Okay, I give up. I'll accept what's coming with as much grace as I can muster."

"Give up on what?"

"On expecting a guy to be reasonable?" she suggested, lips twitching. "God knows, none of the ones at my house ever are."

"I doubt it's that but I'll let it go since we're there and the doorman is waiting to open your door.  But before he does, grasp one fact and refuse to let it go.  I don't spend money I don't have.  Okay Elizabeth?"

"Okay. Good plan."  She smiled up at the doorman as he opened her door. "Good evening. Thanks," she added as the doorman offered her his hand. She looked around as she waited for Chase. grasping her elbows with her hands, trying hard to remember this was no big deal, and the fact that this was her first date in something like 50 years didn't make any difference at all.  When Chase was standing next to her and offered her his arm she took it.

He smiled.  "You look lovely you know," he said after he gave his name to the maitre de.  "Thank you."

"Thanks. Thank you for what?" she added, looking up at him.

"For taking the time to look like you do.  I hesitate to assume it was for my benefit, but either way, I"m reaping the reward.  So if I ask you a question will you answer me truthfully?"

"Do you seriously think I'd get all glammed up just for myself? Get serious. As for the question, I'll try."

He grinned.  "I'm flattered," he said  and took her arm to follow the maitre de to their table.  When they were settled he said, his voice suddenly gentle, "So my question.  How can I help you relax so you'll enjoy yourself?  Short of plying you with alcohol?"

She blushed scarlet. "I'm sorry. I'm just not used to dating. I've never been any good at it. And worse, I totally suck at small talk. And with my job I can't really talk about most of what I do. So if you really want to help, you do all the talking."

"How about I ask questions for a while and you answer the ones you can and tell me which ones you can't, okay?" he suggested, his eyes dancing at the thought of how long it had been since he'd been on a date.  She'd probably clobber him if she knew.

"I'd prefer dueling questions," she replied, laughing.

"I can handle that," he said.  "You can start.  Do you want a drink or some wine?"

"Wait you said I could start," she pointed out laughing. "I prefer not to drink very often so wine, I guess."

He nodded and turned to engage the waiter in a discussion of the menu and wines.  When he'd settled on one he grinned at her.  "Now you can go first."

She considered him for a moment.  "Did/do you have any brothers or sisters?'

"Not living," he said.  "And as a freebie, my parents are also gone.  Do you?"

"No. Well, not to my knowledge, but knowing my father I could have had tons of half brothers or sisters and not know it. It would have been harder for my mother to hide any."  She paused, "What's your preference, if you had a choice, and a job didn't matter. City or country?"

"Not meaning to be difficult but it would depend on what I was doing.  For the most part I prefer the city for working and the country for play."

"Well," Buffy said after a moment, "I concede that not every question has to be a perfect yes or no, A or B."  She watched as a server poured their wine and Chase handled the tasting and the acceptance of it, then watched as her own glass was poured.

"Thank you," he said.  "I appreciate the concession.  "How come you haven't dated in a while?"

She toyed with her wine glass for awhile before finally answering, not looking up at him, "Hadn't met anyone who interested me enough to say yes."

"Thank you," he said.  "I hope you're not disappointed."

She looked up at him at that comment, her eyes crinkling up.  "I'll let you know when I figure it out.  Out of all the beautiful women you see at your restaurant, why in the world did you send me flowers?"

He smiled.  "Because you neither wanted them nor thought anyone would send them.  It's the contrarian streak in me, I suppose.  Rabelsian, in fact, without the crass and crude, or so I hope."

"You couldn't have known that then," she protested.

"Why not?"

"Because I was acting like a total ...Blonde. The guys were a bad influence.  Hell, they are a bad influence."

"What does that have to do with it?.  I paid you a compliment and you were flabbergasted by the very fact of it.  It was telling."

"Ah, I'll have to watch that in the future then. Bad for my image to have a tell."

"What's your image?" he asked.

"Brutally efficient and highly capable security officer," she laughed a bit uncomfortably, thinking about how bloody true it was. And she had a dungeon to prove it.

He wrinkled his brow slightly, reading the shifting nuance of emotion as easily as he read a road map.  "So, he said," forbearing to comment.  "It's your question."

"Yankees or Mets, Jets or Giants."

"Cubbies and the Braves.  National League all the way.  The DH and astro turf should be banned.  And it's the Cowboys," he added.  "Everyone else, well they're a bunch of..."

"Oh yeah, I shoulda guessed. America's team. Pffft," she replied making a face. "And admitting to being a Cubbies fan, gosh. You do like lost causes, don't you?"

"I'm also kind of fond of the Red Sox," he admitted without a blink.  "Terrible isn't it?  Do you prefer natural or man made fabric?"

"Natural. Doesn't everyone?"

"If they did would we still have double knit polyester?.  Which do you prefer, cotton, linen, silk...what?"

"Aren't you getting a teeny bit personal?" she asked, leaning her elbow on the table and propping her chin on it. "It depends on the layer."

"Nope.  Not at all.  You'll know when I do," he assured her, unrepentant.

She shook her head. Dinner arrived then and the conversation died off as they ate. After awhile she offered, perhaps because of the wine, "Thanks for asking me out. I still don't understand it, but you ... well, you're different," she finished with a bit of an embarrassed laugh.

"So are you, he said.  "Shall I tell you a secret?  You're so delightfully different you're the first woman I've asked out in more years than I can remember."  And ain't that the truth, he thought watching her blush. He reached across the table and turned her hand palm up, tracing the lines with the tip of his finger, refusing to use the contact to pry.  "So what do you do besides keeping Ash Jacobs and his crew alive?"

She watched him toy with her palm, but refrained from pulling it away. "That's pretty much it. Workout, read when I have a few hours, go to obscenely expensive restaurants when the Boss goes out.  What do you do when you aren't working?"

"Read, work out, take in the cultural attractions of the city -- which is a big reason I live here and not Texas.  Do a bit of volunteer work when I can," he said.  "Does he mind being a vampire?"

Buffy froze. Then she pulled her hand away. "What?"

"Yes, I was afraid you were going to react like that.  His secret is perfectly safe with me," he said.

"What secret? Don't be silly."

He reached for her hand again, turning her palm upward.  "Watch," he said, and traced a few lines in her palm, leaving behind a glowing square like a TV screen.  "What would you like to see?"

She flushed. "So this is all about Ash, is it?"

He looked up startled.  "No," he said after a moment.  "It's about wanting to know you and figuring the sooner some things were out in the open the likelier that was to happen."

"Yes, I can see where you might think that." Her voice was carefully neutral.

He brushed a finger lightly over her palm, erasing the screen, his eyes never leaving hers.  Then he set her hand gently on the table.  "Elizabeth, I'm just a guy who's interested in you.  Nothing more or less.  I've no interest in your boss or his business.  I'm certainly not a threat to him.  I never will be."

She met his eyes and gave it some thought. "All right. I'm told I'm paranoid. I apologize for jumping to conclusions."

"It makes sense that you do," he said.  "I'm grateful you're willing to believe me."

"But see... It makes no sense to me that someone talented would work as a waiter," she replied.

"Why?  Because I could be doing more?  Maybe I've already done that."

"You're long-lived too?" she asked.

He nodded.  "Yep."

"Then I suppose you know that I'm talented too."

"Do you mind?"

"I don't know yet," she replied, frankly.

"Well, while you're thinking about it can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

"Why not. If I get pissed off, or just pissed, I can zap off and not worry about you having a heart attack."

He struggled to surpress a grin and failed.  "Very true," he assured her.

As he sent the server off with a credit card to take care of the bill she asked, "So, do you have a particular place in mind? Public place," she clarified.

"Shame on you Elizabeth.  Of course it's a public place.  The Dark Horse Pub."

She laughed, relaxed again. "Not exactly a Texas sort of bar. I seriously doubt you'll find a Cowboy fan in the place."

"Then it's a good thing it's not football season, isn't it?" he asked as he held her chair for her.  "It's not that far.  Are you up to walking or would you prefer a cab?" he asked, looking at her shoes.

"Walking's fine. I'll use my blisters to make Lynne feel sorry for me."

"Think it's work?" he asked, steering her towards Washington Square.

"It's worth a shot, and with luck she'll never try to talk me into wearing torture shoes again."

"That would be a loss," he said sadly, gazing at her legs.  "A huge loss."

"Easy for you to say," Buffy said with an indignant snort.

"Maybe," he said, taking her arm.  "I could carry you if you'd like?"

"I don't think so..." she replied, eying him.

"Too bad," he said.

Despite the fragility of the shoes, they made it to the Dark Horse Pub without mishap.  The place was hopping, of course, even if it was a Monday night. It was New York, Manhattan, the Village.

Chase held the door for her and they joined the throng. If they'd thought about an intimate chat, that hope died within a second.

Chase laughed.  "If you hate it we can leave."

Chase held the door for her, sighing his relief to be leaving the Pub.  When they reached the street he offered her his arm saying, "Shall I take you home or would you like a cup of coffee first?"

"Shouldn't you be getting to bed? You've got to work tomorrow, don't you?" Buffy asked.

"Tomorrow night at five," he said.  "How about you?"

She shrugged. "I can sleep in. Sure, coffee is good."

They found a place just off the Square and settled in a booth in the back.  After they had their coffee he leaned back into the corner of the booth, his leg stretched out over the seat.  "So, am I going to be allowed to see you again?"

"That's an interesting way to put it," she replied, sitting back coffee cup in hand, watching him over it.

"Is it?" he said.  "I just get the feeling that if you didn't want to I'd probably never see you again."

"Well, our paths wouldn't cross in the normal course of events, that's true. I'm trying to figure out if I should be angry with you or not. Since you told me, if I recall correctly, that you wanted to see me only because I didn't take a compliment well. Now I find out you know what Ash is, and what I am."

"You think I only wanted to see you because you didn't take a compliment well?  Now where in the world did you get that from what I said?" he asked, keeping a rein on his amazement.

"Ah. So then you recognized a kindred soul and wanted to get to know me?"

He sighed and set his cup down, wishing he could spank her.  "Elizabeth, how do I make it plain that I want to get to know you because I'm attracted to you.  A rather common boy meets girl reaction.  You're beautiful, intelligent, feisty as hell, capable and a lot of other things.  Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Well, see, I had just about convinced myself, my ego appreciated it, that it was just that. Then you revealed you're talented and now I'm sort of back to square one. Add to that a woman hunting you down to pass on a message you didn't want to get, or even hear, and well.. not an expected thing for a waiter, you see. And we've established I'm paranoid." She paused a moment, "So I guess I'm asking you straight out if this is just us or if this is something to do with Ash or his organization."

"And I just told you straight out that this was about you and me and didn't have anything to do with Ash Jacobs or his organization.  In fact, I've told you that straight out three times by my count before this, and at least one of them tonight.  So for the last time I don't give a shit about Ash or the fact that he rules this region like a medieval fiefdom.  My interest is in you.  If you can't grasp that then maybe it would be better if I just took you home and didn't bother you any more."

"It probably would be better if you didn't see me any more. Unfortunately my wishes aren't in line with my better sense.  So thank you for saying it again. Although I confess to being annoyed about the medieval fiefdom comment." She sipped her coffee and met his eyes. "Look," she finally said. "I don't want to look into your background. I'm willing to take you for what you are telling me you are. We all have shit in our backgrounds that we want to ditch. I'm just .. I like things plain and upfront. So I want to see you again, but I don't want to have a nagging suspicion I have to hide."

His eye turned wary as he watched her.  "What is it you want to know.  If I can tell you, I will."

"I don't want you to tell me anything," she replied. "I'm willing to accept what you've said. Period."

"And the nagging suspicion?"

"You've told me I don't need one," she replied.

"And five minutes from now?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you not accepting what I'm saying now? I'm okay. I won't pry, I won't worry. I'll .. trust you."

"I'm accepting it fine.  I'm just wondering if you are," he said.

Her chin went up. "I'm accepting it fine," she replied meeting his eyes.

"Good," he said.  "More coffee?"

"Please," she replied.  "I'm sorry I dragged you over to the table. I knew of one of them and wanted to see if he were at all like they said."

"I don't mind.  It was entertaining in it's way.  Was he?"

She laughed. "He was, but not quite the way I expected. And I'd heard Adele's name, so it was nice meeting her."

"She strikes me as trouble all the way," he said.

Buffy grinned. "I like her all the more for that."

"You're not a guy," he said, rolling his eyes.  "I'm glad I'm not her father.  He's probably old before his time."

Buffy laughed. "As I understand it he's quite a handful himself, so don't grieve too much for him."

"Maybe that's where she gets it from" he said.  "Are you a handful?"

"I'll let you figure that out," she replied. "And I'm quite positive you are."

His eye turned speculative.  "Oh have no fear.  I'm already working on it.  I, on the other hand, am no trouble at all."

"Oh, yeah, right. Like Alanna would believe that one,"  Buffy scoffed.

"Alanna doesn't know me nearly as well as I hope you're going to," he said.

"Ah. Well, it'll take you some time, and probably a lot of gritty determination to manage that."

"Really?" he asked.  "Sounds easier than I expected."

"Is that a fact. How so?"

God and six heart attacks," he said, drinking his coffee.

She shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Next time I meet you wherever. No more coming to the townhouse."

"But the worst is over," he said.

"Hah. You don't know them like I do. The worst will be tonight when I get home."

"Ah, shall I come in with you?  Deflect their fire?"

"Thanks but no. I'll just threaten them."

"Does it work?" he asked.  "What do you threaten them with?"

"My dungeon."

"Your dungeon?" he asked, fascinated.

"So don't piss me off," she replied. "You're the one who mentioned feudal overlords."

"Ah," he said, his eyes twinkling.  "I'll keep it in mind.  And are you the chief torturer?"

Her eyes clouded for a moment. "I have been, from time to time. I'm not a nice woman."

"You didn't say anything about needing an act of

His smile faded as he wrapped a hand, warm and accepting, around the hand that held her coffee.  "Nice is an interesting word.  In Middle English it meant foolish or wanton.  In Anglo-French it meant silly and its Latin root means ignorant.  I certainly have no desire to be nice.  And I'm rather glad you aren't.  I'm also glad you aren't socially acceptable.  Because I'm certainly not."

She looked down at where his hand held hers, then her gaze flicked up to his eyes. "The hidden part of your past?"

"And the thread that binds it to the present," he said.  "What I am not, what I am sure you are not, is evil."

"There have been times when I thought myself quite evil, Chase. I'm not exaggerating. I've done terrible things.  And, worse, mostly I sleep well."

"I am sure you know as well as I the polemic for and against expediency.  But even the Jesuits and the Pope know that there is a difference between the terrible and the evil."

"Yes, and no matter how terrible they were they always claimed to be on the side of the angels. I'm afraid I'm not quite as able to be sure."

"Maybe, but that's not who we're talking about.  Nor does the misuse of an argument make it invalid," he said.

"And you're determined to forgive me no matter what?" she asked a raised eyebrow indicating a touch of amusement.

"No, never that," he said, his mouth curving upward. "You'd hate it if I did."

She laughed.  "Very true. Well, I should get home. Thank you for an interesting evening, Chase."

He put some money on the table and offered her a hand up.  "I'll see you home," he said.

She opened her mouth to protest, thought better of it, and just nodded. She put her hand through his arm when he offered it.  It was late enough that the sidewalks were mostly deserted except for the occasional drunk or druggie.

"A cab or a walk?" he said.

She looked down at one drunk sprawled out snoring peacefully. "It's too romantic to take a cab. Let's walk."

"I see," he said, stifling a snort.  "This way then," he said, and turned towards the townhouse.  They walked in silence, neither intruding upon the others thoughts.  In front of the house he shifted her hand from his arm into his.  "Will you call me when you're free?" he asked.

They'd stopped and she turned toward him. "Yes, all right."

He looked in her eyes, like glittering lapiz lazuli under the streetlight.  Then he tipped her chin up a bit and lowered his mouth to hers, giving her time to stop him.  She didn't. And she returned the kiss.  When he lifted his head her eyes were glittering even more.  "You should go in," he said softly.

She nodded. "Goodnight Chase."  As she climbed the stairs she hoped the boys all got a damn good view.  When she reached the door she looked back but Chase was gone.