The circumstances of Jackson's failed mission had left a massive stain on his mood, as had the the cherry sucker left a massive hole burned in his pocket and a hole in whatever trash can he'd dumped it. Washing his clothes a thousand and one times wasn't nearly enough to rid them of the disgusting stains left of his experience. Jackson contemplated throwing himself into the washing machine at this point.

As it was, Jackson just needed something, anything, to keep him occupied. The most he had to go off of were rumors of someone in a faded white house with plenty of valuables within. Which led him to now. The empty space surrounding Mossadeep stretching on for what felt like miles and the cool breeze a welcomed asset to keeping his sanity beneath the sun's gaze. Boltund was by his side, the loneliness in her absence an experience he never liked.

The walk was uneventful and done in silence, the most signs of life that of another traveler walking in their opposite direction, but at last they arrived. A two story house with a wooden front porch and a carpet of grass wrapping around it's exterior. The only sounds those of the wind shifting through tree tops and birds chattering amongst the waving branches. Boltund sniffed at the mailbox, but otherwise showed little interest in the scents of their surroundings.

His mission was, well... just get in and get out. As the rumors had said, whoever lived here has some pretty valuable items that would make good profit on the black market. All he had to do was break in, steal a few things, and then get out. Easy on paper, difficult in practice. "Miro." The Boltund glanced up at the mention of her name. "Stay outside and keep guard. You'll just be a hassle on the inside." A unsatisfied growl was her response, but she dutifully sat on her hindquarters and stared out at the emptiness that surrounded them.

Jackson advanced on the house, approaching from the side and hugging the side of the building until he came to a partially cracked window, cool air flowing from within. He curled his fingers over the window sill and peered inside. Silence. There had been no signs of anyone being home, so his path should be clear. Granted, perhaps he should have given it more thought than he was. He had Pokemon still at his disposal if the need arose. Cautiously. Carefully. Jackson pushed open the window with a quiet creak and pulled himself through the window and ungracefully stumbled into an empty living room.

Now. What would he take?

mila alexopoulos Chu-e Choi

The place didn't look exactly like 'no one's home' from the inside. While the lights in the living and most of the house were dim, a light from what might have been the kitchen was turned on. Something warm and meaty and fragrant, a roast of some sort, filled the place with that kind of homey scent one might expect. The living itself was spacious, a black leather sofa sat in the middle of the room facing a wall mounted TV, a nice one, decorated with a few pink throws and kitten claw marks pocking one side. Two large, plush recliners on either side, one with a more obvious butt-shaped indent and a pillow half rumpled in the seat. On a small coffee table, a bowl of cherries sat half eaten next to a book on fairy tales. Shelves were on the wall, filled with various books or trinkets, yet oddly devoid of pictures. A few pokemon toys littered the area. The TV was turned on but muted, a cooking show host adding copious amounts of whipped cream to something gooey and chocolatey.

All in all, lived in and nice without being over the top. If Jackson wanted, in this room alone some of the various knickknacks could probably net him a couple bucks. It wouldn't be much, though, because wouldn't the nicer stuff be lingering elsewhere in the house?

The hairdryer clicked off.

The door down the hall opened.

And Chu-e stepped out with a scowl that could melt paint. A scowl from when he had been a Beast, when he had led people to their death's and hadn't battled an eye. A small, mouse pokemon was at his heels, nervous and sparking as it bounded to chase after his footfalls. What might have caught the eye was what he was wearing- which was to say, very little. A pink and blue robe, with cat paw-prints on the hems, was tied around him, promising very little underneath. His hair was still damp at the ends, curling around his cheeks, and his skin had that flushed, pink softness of being freshly scrubbed.

But he paused, hitched in his step, when he really caught eyes of who exactly was in his home.

And Chu-e's face morphed in an instant, an almost manic laugh spilling out of him as he recognized the other man, if only barely.

"Holy shit!" He didn't come closer, lingering in his own hallway, eying the other up and down. "You know, if you wanted me that much I would have let you in the front door."

If Jackson had bother to allocate more stats to observation than power, he might have noticed the multiple signs of an occupied house. A light from across the hallway. A meaty scent wafting through the house. The reflection of a muted television on the wall. But alas, stats had not been allocated. Jackson thought exactly nothing of the signs indicating life within the house. Instead, he began inspecting objects of the living room, seeking anything more valuable than a few dollars. Nothing. Nothing. Again, nothing. Jackson was beginning to feel irritated and discouraged (were the rumors wrong?) until a sound switched his present feelings to worry.

The quiet buzzing from down the hallway suddenly went quiet. A door creaked open. Wide eyes glanced up from the book of fairy tales he held his hands. Finally, he noticed the TV's flickering screen. Then, the meaty scent filling the air. Last, the sudden, brighter light that shone from through the living rooms wide entry way. His breath hitched in his throat. Fuck! No one was supposed to be home. And Miro hadn't made any notice of anyone approaching the building.

Of course, he had himself to blame for recklessness, but he would never admit that.

Frantic eyes scanned his surroundings, but the entirety of the living room was cast in an unwelcoming light. There was no way to escape to except the opened window behind him. Still, he'd wasted too much time looking for another hiding place. Before he could even get two steps closer to the window, their eyes met. His filter (or lack thereof) couldnt catch the words before they erupted from his mouth.

"Aw, fucking hell." It was this asshole. The one who'd managed to make his life miserable even after their short meeting. To make matters worse, this asshole was all dressed down in some girly pink and blue robe with flushed skin and, by his mind's imagination, nothing underneath.

Jackson wasn't sure if he wanted to fuck him, kill him, or both. If anything, just to grasp back hold of the control Chu-e had threatened to take away from him. Either way, Chu-e's up and down gaze across his body made Jackson feel like he needed to cover up.

"Fuck." Jackson cursed again, his tone almost resigned. "Keep it in your dreams. If I had known this house was yours, I wouldn't have come within fifty miles of it, goddamn." Talk about his bad luck. Now he might really throw himself into the washing machine at home. "Just - don't fucking move." Jackson had learned, somewhat, from the awful experience of a prior week. It was better to keep his distance from this lunatic. "I'm gonna fucking leave." Although his gaze remained locked on Chu-e, his footsteps took him closer to the opened window and the thing he desperately needed.

Freedom.

Chu-e Choi mila alexopoulos

Not one to listen and maybe having a taste for being defiant, Chu-e soundly did not honor to the request to not move. One hand raised to casually twirl one of the longer strands of hair around a finger, almost dainty. For each step that Jackson took back, Chu-e took one forward. It was now that, mentally, Chu-e had to pause and assess what he was doing. The wise thing to do, since this guy had invaded his home, was to just shoot him (tasteless; knives were much sweeter) and then dispose of him elsewhere. The kind of thing, loathe as he was to keep doing it, was to let him hop out the window and move on his merry way.

So, instead, Chu-e tossed all logic aside and decided that he would do neither of these things. This guy was... well, he was angry and stupid and predictable if he read him right. The kind of bear he would happily poke just to see it swat at him, more amused by the potential for a reaction than the threat of the claws. Jackson was bigger and stronger then him. Chu-e was, annoyingly, not up to the physical shape he used to be in after his capture. That poor Caroline girl he had met had seen what would happen first hand if he pushed his luck. So, reason be it, if Chu-e did not use his wiles and managed to get pinned down this guy could deliver on his threats.

But Chu-e was afraid of many things and death was not one of them. The temptation was too great. Curiosity might kill the cat in this situation, he just would need to reply on satisfaction bringing him back.

"Leaving already? But the roast is almost done and you have me all alone this time. I promise I don't even have anything on me, either... you're free to come and give me a body search to check." That grin still split his face, the kind perfect for others to wipe off, and his voice tipped lower in timber to something smooth and silky and teasing. A slight tug on one of the strings keeping his robe together, languid and slow, to show just how easy it would be for the article to be slipped open by hands that wanted it.

Man, he was being kind of a whore and Chu-e was relishing in it. There was a lot to unpack with his own relationship with his more carnal side. Too much for now, that he didn't want to dwell on; the long and skinny was that he had forcefully repressed this for years and acting out on it was fun. Honestly, Chu-e wasn't even sure he would go through with sleeping with this guy if he decided to be into it. It was just nice and good to feel less like the complicated ways he felt in his youth and early adulthood.

Alas, while the two idiots had their strange.... whatever was happening inside, a scent had been picked up by Beepin. The Zoroark took her careful time to hunt and stalk around her trainer's home. It was hard to contain her usually, she was grateful in her own way that her human was lenient, but her normal method of punishment was swift and cruel. Jackson and Miro had been very lucky to avoid her. While they could have probably taken her out she was not one to play nice in battle. The limp body of the Pachirisu in her muzzle proved this, pink saliva froth onto the ground. She spat out her prey as she approached the house, an odd scent stinging her nose.

A vicious, chattering, snarling series of chirps left her when she rounded the house and spotted Miro. The fox pokemon surged for the Bolthund, intending to fight with teeth and claws. Their trainers may have been able to break them up before any real damage was done to either party- but the commotion was sure to draw attention.

Not one to listen. A taste for defiance. The similarities were, perhaps, the creator of the great rift that stretched between them. Jackson grasping for control and Chu-e using his own self to tear it away. Jackson was not one second of fucking surprised that Chu-e had ignored his 'polite' request to keep their distance. Every step of retreat was mirrored with one of approach, Chu-e's casually twirling a finger through his hair with blatant disregard.

By now, Jackson had pressed his back against the wall with one hand on the window sill and another on the Pokeball that housed his Absol. There was truth in saying Jackson was stronger, more powerful, but one thing had grown quickly apparent in their last meeting. Chu-e was not scared of him, as many before had been. Chu-e did not fear the bark, nor the bite. He did not fear his claws, nor the sharp tooth of his words. Chu-e did not fear the bear locked within its cage of fear.

Leaving already? The sultry tone of Chu-e's voice made the hair on Jackson's neck tingle. But the roast is almost done and you have me all alone this time. Was that bile building in his throat. Was he really going to puke all over this man's fancy house? I don't even have anything on me, either... Fucking hell, it was just getting worse. You're free to come and give me a body search to check. "Oh for fucking -" Like a child, he wanted to stick both fingers in his ears and blab along until he could hear no more. "For god's fucking sake, keep your clothes on." He needed to shield his eyes or something before he saw more of things than he desired (but was that really what he wanted?). "If you're that desperate, jerk it off yourself. I'm not fucking interested in any of -" The hand on his Pokeball rose and waved a flat circle in the air, "this."

The conversation likely would have continued like this, a mongoose and snake stuck in power-limbo, if it hadn't been for the loud howl that suddenly filled the air. "Fuck!" The sound was undeniably Miro's. Instead of leaping through the cracked window, Jackson dashed forward and reached a hand to shove Chu-e to the side. "Move out of my way." He spat as he passed, scrambling to the front door and slamming it open.

Natural light flashed through the door to reveal his Boltund and a Zoroark in a brutal fight of tooth and claws. Boltund was held down underneath the Zoroark's weight with a pair of sharp teeth embedded in her throat. Blood trailed down her sleek, yellow chest. Although she'd noticed the Zoroark's approach, her reaction had been too slow to avoid the crazed claws and teeth. "Get your thing off of her!" Jackson spun his head to snap at Chu-e. He didn't wait for a response as he dashed into the open. He didn't have time to think about calling out Absol, or Nickit, or Mienshao. Instead, reckless as he was, Jackson rushed up to the whirlwind of claws and teeth, pulled back a fist and...swung.

Chu-e Choi mila alexopoulos
/ur turn milky

It was just a normal Saturday.

Warm sunlight streamed into the bay window of the hotel room, falling gently about the soft, sherpa rug at Mila's feet. The woman was leaned forward in front of the vanity, wearing nothing but her bra and a pair of pants, as she put the final touches on her make-up. Her one free day that week — someone she had matched with on Tinder just had to pick that week for a date. Originally, she had planned to spend the entire day sleeping, her fingers sore from pulling apart seams and re-stitching them, her back a pain from all the hours that she'd had to spend standing at the studio that week. For some reason, the head designer she was working with that month that this week was crunch week and that they had to complete all their designs before the holidays. Insanity. Though, perhaps, maybe slightly more insane was the fact that Mila had worked all week and decided to spend her time off on a date with a stranger.

But hey, Mila had never been the kind of girl to turn down an invitation for free brunch.

She dabbed at her bottom lip with a cloth, and pursed her lips, as she appraised herself in the mirror. Then, she turned around and grabbed the sweater dress she had set aside, slipping it over her head and shoulders. She then sat on the edge of the bed, sliding on her favorite scarf - a glitzy, yellow-toned fabric that was semi-sheer but still thick enough to be warm and adjusting it properly. Just by the door sat her Camerupt, a scowling fire-type named Michelangelo -- for some reason, today, he seemed extra grumpy.

"Oh stop pouting," she told him with a laugh, as she pocketed the lipstick and the rest of her makeup in a small bag. She grabbed her jacket too, sliding one arm through it and then the other, before fixing him with a look. She smiled at him. "If you're not careful, you're going to get frown lines, Mickey."

Narrowing his eyes into a glare, the fire-type opened his mouth — no doubt a scathing rebuttal on the tip of his tongue — before he closed it and harrumph'd, dropping his face back onto the floor. If she wanted to be a fool and burn herself out, then who was he to stop her? He wasn't Vincenzo, after all.

Speaking of, the door seemed to open as the snowy fox let himself into the room, a letter in his mouth. She turned — the moment Mila saw him, her face fell and her hat dropped to the floor. "No, you can't be serious, " she said, stepping back. Vincenzo was unpertubed, he advanced on her and offered the letter up to her. Mila let out a groan.

Why did they have something for her today of all days?

"I guess my eggs benedict is going to have to take a rain check, huh boys?" She sighed.

[ ... ]

A moment later, Mila and the "boys" were out and about, heading decidedly not towards her mouth-watering brunch destination but instead towards the anonymous tip that she had received. As a blossoming pokeranger and citizen of the community, it was her responsibility to respond to tips that the league sent her. Usually it was through text message, but occasionally, depending on the clientele, it was through letter-head -- as was true for the one she received that morning.

Apparently some neighbors in the local community had seen a shady figure lurking around a house in a well-lit neighborhood. Well-lit, because it was daytime. According to the note, it was a tip that was probably going to amount to nothing -- after all, what kind of dumbass would try to break into a house during the day?

She winced as some sunlight gleamed right into her line of sight, and she climbed up the incline into the neighborhood. Mickey was secured at her waist-side in his pokeball, but as usual, Vic trotted beside her. Hopefully, if luck would turn her way, this would just be a meaningless house call - she would talk to some neighbors, write down a report, and then be on her way to her date. Some sounds echoed a few miles away, and Mila pulled out her phone to ignore it, to text her date that it might only be an hour.  Maybe it was just a Purrloin and Meowth having a friendly, neighborhood chatter. Maybe a Poochyena was involved.

The sounds didn't cease. In fact, they grew louder.

It was then that her Alololan Ninetales was on high alert. His ears perked, his back tensed, and before Mila knew it, the Ninetales was darting around the corner. Mila was fast on her heels too -- she knew trouble when she heard it.

The cadet appeared on the scene of a Boltund and Zorark in the thick of it, a brutal clash of teeth and claws. "Freeze!" she shouted immediately, firearm raised threateningly. It had been instinctual - ironically, it seemed that Vic had the same idea.  A blizzard aimed at the floor had turned the already-cold floor to a sheet of ice, aiming to split between both the Boldtund and Zoroark — without any regards for the human that might have already been between them. 

What kind of a person would try to rob a house during the daytime? 

The same one that was trying to punch an aggressive pokemon. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

— jackson barrett Chu-e Choi

Before Chu-e had a chance to wet his lips, do some snappy and flirty comeback to further worm under this guy's skin, the dog fight started and instead he gave a small gasp. Face falling, he did grunt when the other shoved him out of the way but he had more pressing things to worry about. Like chasing Jackson outside to make sure his own precious pokemon did not get hurt.

Then there was a whole lot going down at once.

"Beepin!" Was half shrieked at the same time the "Freeze!" from the new third party was yelled. Jackson aimed his punch, but the sound of her name made the Zoroark loosen her grip so she very fully took the punch. She was quick to snap back, trying to sink her fangs instead into the meat of Jackson's arm. Then there was the Blizzard, making her lose her balance as she lunged, only to trip over the Bolthund and possible collapse into Jackson.

In short, a fucking mess, and a lot was happening at once.

"Beepin, down!" Chu-e edged forward as if that would stop anything, the icy ground chilling him. Unlike Jackson and Mila, who were dressed and had access to their pokeballs, Chu-e was still mostly naked and had very little on his person. He wanted to run back inside and get Beepin's pokeball but he also didn't want her to maul someone or get shot since this new lady was packing heat.

Regardless of whatever tussle she may or may not have been having with Jackson (or continued with the Bolthund), at the order the Zoroark would shove away and limp over to her trainer, hissing as she went and tail puffed up in anger. Miro had most certainly gotten in a few good licks on the dark type.

Chaos erupted from the moment Jackson bolted from the door. Jackson's fist flew through the air to connect with the Zoroark. Zoroark retaliated. Someone shouted Freeze!. A sheet of ice slid beneath his feet. Then, things began to settle as Jackson felt the Zoroark collide with his body and knock him to the ground. He gasped as his breath exhaled roughly from his lungs and his head slammed against the frozen turf.

Miro was staggering to a stand while blood pooled beneath her paws staining the ice. Jackson did nothing in the moment of shock from falling until Zoroark was called back to her owner. Once the weight was lifted, he shakily got to his legs until falling once more on them beside his Boltund. The pain that throbbed subtly in his head ignored for worry of his Boltund. "Your goddamn mutt could have killed her!" He shouted as the electric dog's legs collapsed beneath fatigued muscles and unstable ground. He barely registered the girl with the gun until Boltund licked his hand with reassurance and Jackson finally looked up to see her face.

The gun wasn't what shocked Jackson when his eyes rose. It was the face beyond the gun with that made his heart dropped. A girl, no, a woman he hadn't spoken to in years. A woman who had once been one puzzle piece of his broken life, but then lost again to the fates of circumstance. Michel and Adam were two knots that help tie them together, but as their lives grew complex and the boys grew their independence, the necessity to stay together had faded away. As had their friendship.

He'd heard about Michel's death. Wanted to reach out to her. Contact her. Anything. He'd lost Adam that same day. But...he never did. He never said anything. He faded back into the shadows, only rejoining Team Rocket when it felt like he had nowhere left to go. What had she been doing all this time? Look at how much she'd grown. She seemed different. Prettier, perhaps? More confident? How had she changed so much, when he still felt like so little differed from the past.

He rested a hand on Boltund, who's beady eyes stared up at Mila with cautious curiosity. She recognized her scent. And that Alolan Ninetales. It must be the Vulpix she once spent hours running and playing with. Boltund knew these people. Jackson made have distanced himself from their friendship, but they were still her friends. Ear perked, head tilted, Boltund let out a whimper.

Only then did Jackson speak.

"Mila?"


mila alexopoulos Chu-e Choi

Mila had left. Nearly a year ago, she had left her whole life behind, discarding everything and everyone that had gone along with it. Aside from a a couple of rough patches along the way, it had gone off without a hitch. (Though, maybe, she was minimizing a little bit how many rough patches there had been.) Regardless, these days, Mila hardly had a passing thought of her old life and all the people she had dropped along with it. She didn't think of her missing father, or disabled mother, or the childhood friend that had a scowl permanently tattooed into his face.

Of course, that is, until she found herself raising a gun to his familiar scowling face and unmistakable Jackson-style glower. 

"Mila?"

The hand on her gun faltered. Mila? His voice echoed in her ears, almost as full of disbelief as she felt. The woman hadn't seen him in what felt like years — even though it had probably been just shy of a year. He said her name, and she felt her heart drop into her chest, the same feeling she'd had when they had said Michel had died.

The only thing that snapped her out of it was Vincenzo suddenly at her side, his flank pressing into her right leg. It seemed as if the rest of the world had spun back into motion again, cold air filling her lungs as she took a breath. Her eyes snapped towards the pokemon who had suddenly been pulled apart, either forcibly or out of their own accord, and finally upon the familiar Boltund that was whimpering at her childhood friend's side. Her eyes flicked towards the half-naked man right behind Jackson, looking probably as disheveled as she felt. Two and two clicked together, and then bemusement lit up her eyes, a familiar cheeky grin settling right onto bright cherry lips.

"Jackie," she said loftily, with a laugh, dropping her weapon and latching it into the holster at her side. "I didn't know you - " she gestured openly at the half-nude stranger behind him. "Well, you know. I didn't know you swung that way, or that you were that much of an exhibitionist." Her eyes twinkled, manicured hand on her hip. "I guess they're wrong; an old dog can learn new tricks."

— jackson barrett Chu-e Choi

Chu-e did not dignify a response to the remark about Beepin possibly killing the Bolthund. Jackson had invaded his home and made the choice to leave her outside. He should have been glad that he did not have access to his old pokemon from his Before, as they would not have been so gentle. Yet, he did feel bad for the creature even if he felt little sympathy for the owner. He wasn't one who enjoyed animals being in pain.

He also did not fail to notice... whatever the hell was happening between these two. He would have guessed an accomplice for the familiarity yet it seemed more like some forced fate meeting. "Ki." He replied to the unasked question of who was; his false surname would do for now. Mostly he was just glad that this 'Mila' had put her weapon away.


At least it opened up more chances for teasing.

"Well," and his tone was a bit dry as he spoke again. "Jackie hasn't learned as many tricks as you think. And not for lack me trying to teach them."

But, well, more important things than quick jabs.

"So, I'm sure this will be a lovely reunion, but I'm cold. Beepin, go inside and rest on your mat. You've been a bad girl." The Zoroark chuffed at the scolding but slunk towards the still-open front door to do as she was told. "Bring Miro inside." Chu-e was at least 87% sure that 'Jackie' had called the Bolthund that when trying to rob him last time. "I have plenty of supplies to patch her up."

Then he nodded to Mila. "You come on in, too." Then he whirled around and darted back into his home to make sure the roast wasn't burning. If his robe flipped up slightly... well, they shouldn't have been looking.

As if his day couldn't get any goddamn worse. Miro was pooling blood from her neck, Mila had a gun pointed at him, and a naked psycho probably-killer was chasing after him. Mila's mention of his age-old nickname echoed amongst the hollow pieces of his long-shattered heart. A name that flashed back unwelcomed memories of laughter and anger and tears suppressed by a year-long decade of pain. It pounded on walls of his heart built through efforts of anger and rage. If the words following had been any different, less laugh, more consideration, they might have broken through. Even if for a mere moment. But, they didn't. No.

Mila laughed. Gestured openly. Taunted him. Jackson felt heated anger rise to his cheeks. "Don't be fucking ridiculous, Mila." Jackson cautiously rose to his feet on the icy floor and clenched both fists as his gaze swung to face Chu-e, then Mila. "This guy has been a thorn in my side since we met and now his mangy mutt's torn open Miro's throat." Flames burned in his eye, the place Miro held in his heart fueling anger beyond the kind he suited for himself.

Jackson had no need, desire, nor want for the taunting thrust to his chest like long daggers from both this man (Ki, had he said? Or was that just another odd noise from a crazy man?) and Mila. And now, god forsake everything in his fucking life, Ki had utilized his old nickname. He was about to pick up Miro and march the 75 pound dog back to a Pokemon Center by himself when the conversation took an abrupt turn and this fucker was seriously suggesting he bring Miro back into the house. Jackson had every mind to tell the scantily-clad man to fuck right off to whatever hell portal he'd strolled out from, but one look at his whimpering Boltund quickly changed the off-key tune of his thoughts.

Fuck.

Jackson's eyes were turned to Boltund when Ki turned tail and darted back into the house. Fortunate for him as he missed the casual flip of Ki's robe revealing more than Jackson desired to see. He stood there, contemplating longer than a moment, before glancing up at Mila with a scowl plastered across his features. "There's nothing going on." Jackson murmured with a short snap, claws sheathed now that Chu-e had momentarily removed his presence. Jackson then cautiously bent to pick up Miro and carry her into the house. He prayed to whatever god he didn't believe in that Ki would put some goddamn clothes on before he showed himself again.

mila alexopoulos Chu-e Choi

"Don't be fucking ridiculous, Mila."

The woman's cherry-red lips pressed together, a poor attempt to hide a smile. It was hard to tell whether she was amused at the situation, comforted by the her name being uttered from an old friend, or the steady, predictable nature of Jackson's foul tongue. She opened her mouth to reply, but was distracted at the other man - Ki, apparently - spoke up. Curious eyes were drawn to him as she took him in, robe flapping and all, and this time she was unable to help the giggle that pealed out of her mouth. Not even Jackson's scathing remark about being the other being a permanent thorn in his side — it didn't feel too long ago that he was calling her that at their first meeting — could stop it.

Airily, she said, "Well, I'm glad not everything has changed." Despite the teasing tone in her words, which would no doubt rub Jackson the wrong way, there was more than a bit of truth to her words. She was happy to see him, even though this was not at all the circumstances that she had ever fantasized about them meeting again. Jackson's foul language and familiar scowling face elicited a warmth; it was nearly able to touch a part of her that she didn't think had been accessible. Well nearly.

Mila was very good at playing the part of an actress. Maybe too good.

There were a million questions that Mila could have asked, but none of them seemed good enough, and besides, it seemed that Jackson's boyfriend had invited them into his abode. Despite the fact that she was on a time crunch (her date wasn't going to wait forever after all), something about the thought of a warm room appealed to her. Plus, she owed it to the league to at least follow-up on the case of a theft, whatever the lead might have been.

"Well, at least there's one gentleman who knows how to give a lady a warm welcome," she said, stepping forward towards the house. She gave ol' Jackie a wink, and brushed past him, almost missing his words that were said — a disgruntled mutter under his breath. It was a softer version of Jackson, one that very rarely came through, and she paused. She looked at him — her gaze swirling with something beneath their mulberry-colored depths. "Of course there isn't, Jackie," she said.

The moment - whatever it was - was lasted very briefly.

She smiled again, right at him, touching his elbow as she led him into the house, her heels clacking against the pavement. "Now come on, tell me all about your boyfriend!" The taste of a delicious roast filled her lungs, making her forget about probably what would be her old friend's unadulterated rage.

Behind her, Vin followed more slowly. He sighed, with a shake of her head.

Her bad habits were rising, again.