never_francesca | IC Inbox

if you ever get over the whole breach thing and want to hook up, give me a call

[She stares at the text for a long few minutes. Puts it away, comes back to it an hour later. Stares at it some more. She's spent the time since their last chat just...figuring out what was her and what was that...other Franky.]

[And when, after this time, she was still waking up from very vivid dreams of Sameen Shaw - new ones, too...]

You should come over.

Now.

Why?

[That said, she's already rapping on her door.]

It's open. Close the door behind you.

[Comes a voice from within. And she is inside, and - well. The decor looks like something out of the early 40s, thick furniture and a record player playing Billie Holiday, softly.]

[And at the table, a bottle of scotch, turning slowly - a hand turning it by the neck. And Franky, sitting next to it, in a black silk robe. And by the looks of it, nothing much else.]

Because I'm not getting over it. I want more of it.

[She stands up, crossing to Shaw.]

As me.

[And the kiss is absolutely ferocious when it comes.]

[-- Yeah, she'd thought that might be it. Goddammit.

Honestly, it's tempting as hell to just turn off her brain and lean into it: to kiss back, to rip that robe off, to screw her brains out against the wall. Consequences be damned; they can be a later thing. An in-a-few-hours thing.

But that's no the right choice if she doesn't want to cause a whole entire mess, so instead, she grasps Franky firmly by the shoulders and pulls her back, holding her at arms length.]

Hey, hey, hey - wait. Hold up a sec. Slow down.

[Which provokes a look of confusion, which she tries to hide with a chuckle.]

I'm not that out of practice, am I?

I can't give you what I did in the breach.

[She says bluntly, letting go of Franky's shoulders and stepping back.]

I'm talking sex only, maybe even just a one-and-done. So that "not getting over it" thing? Is a problem.

[She gives Shaw a bit of a look at that one, her thoughts unguessable. Then, after a moment:]

You mean, intense physical satisfaction? Pretty sure you can.

[She steps back, toward the table.]

That's what I mean. You've...opened up a part of me I didn't know was there. I'm not letting it go, forgetting it's there.

[She leans against the table, leg falling into view as she manages a smile.]

I'm attracted to a woman, for the first time. A goddamn sexy one. That itch needs...scratching.

[And her eye locks with Shaw.]

And I'm confident once we start it won't be once. Not even close. But don't worry, I'm not catching.

[So, just sex indeed. She won't develop feelings at all, clearly. She never has before. This place having given her close friends hasn't changed her that deeply. So she tells herself.]

Yeah, see, that's a problem, too.

[Shaw says - crossing her arms, and watching Franky skeptically. Is that a bottle of scotch? God.

At least it's not champagne.]

One-and-done is kind of my thing. I don't like giving people the wrong idea, I don't like people expecting things from me with this kind of stuff, and you, uh--

[Her eyes flick back to the bottle.]

You kinda seem like you're expecting a lot.

[She pauses, then adds:]

Don't wanna hurt you. We still have to be able to work together.

[She shakes her head, chuckling.]

God, I'm a big girl, Sameen. I'm a fucking fighter pilot. We don't have time to expect. I can manage to be an adult about things, however they turn out.

[She pauses, trying to hold onto the humour and not let the chance fade entirely.]

As for the rest, surely a quick drink after is at least traditional? Anything worth doing, and all that.

[Absolutely it is. Shaw has done drinks before; she's done drinks after. She's even done coy flirtatious banter in a pinch (though when she's picking someone up for her own purposes rather than trying to entice a person of interest, it's not really her thing). She might suck with people, but she's not socially clueless. She knows perfectly well how these things work.

Two or three years ago, their clothes would already be off. But it's not two or three years ago, and she glances away again, closing her eyes for a moment.]

Yeah, well. I'm not so good with traditional. One hook-up, and I leave right after; that's the deal.

[She's quiet for a long moment, eye still watching Shaw. She doesn't turn away.]

Well. If that's the case, it'd stand to reason that it would be incumbent on me to make it spectacular.

Logically speaking.

I still don't think you're real.

[She opens her eyes again, leveling her gaze at Franky.]

I think you were created to mess with my head. Does that bother you?

No. Because I know I'm real.

[She shifted her position a bit, loosening the belt of the robe, letting it fall back off her shoulders, pooling around her waist as it fell open.]

And if I'm going to be classed a figment, I'd prefer to be a fantasy.

[It's a challenge, an invitation, all of it. A declaration of intent, and an acceptance of terms.]

[Shaw takes a moment to consider the response. Then, she steps forward, grabbing Franky's shoulders again - to push the robe down and off, this time.]

You better be good at fighting back.

[Because she's no pushover in bed, but that doesn't mean she likes partners who just roll over and take it.]

[Her grin in reply is eager, challenging, as is the following kiss - a step back from the table, robe forgotten...and a leg carefully sliding behind Shaw's to trip them backwards onto the bed.]

[As sure an answer as she's ever likely to get.]

[And Shaw, for her part, immediately tries to flip them once they're down, trying to put herself on top. She doesn't even particularly prefer being on top, but, well. This is where the fighting comes in.]

[Which only provokes a grin, hands moving to her shirt. She'll stay where she is, for the moment, but her legs are moving, seeking position - she fights, and she fights cleverly.]

[This is very much going to be Shaw's night.]

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