#sorry guys. slander on my favorite couple once again and I have to defend them.

[kiss-my-freckle]

Dialogues for @thesweetkeenlife

1x1

Red: Evidently someone with the authority to make decisions has arrived. I think I smell the stench of your cologne, Agent Cooper. Smells like hubris.

Red: You got rid of your highlights. You look much less Baltimore.

1x3

Red: So you went with the gray?

1x4

Red: That’s a pretty blouse.

1x7

Red: Agent Keen, I have a tip. You’re a winter, not an autumn. Stop wearing olive.

Red: You’d look positively radiant in a Guayabera dress. I know a little shop in Reston. We could stop before our flight.

Red: I brought you a souvenir. What’s your feeling about guava? Liz: Anxiety. Red: Oh, you’re in for a treat.

1x8

Red: I don’t know how you do it. I had that done once. I couldn’t bear the tickling.

Maltz: Ray, look at you. You look great. I mean, the elasticity is amazing. You been juicing? Red: Beets, mostly. Some celery, carrots, a lot of ginger. The kale makes me dyspeptic.

Red: I find it so reassuring - the movie stars, the pop singers. They really are just like the rest of us.

1x9

Red: Donald, never let it be said that I valued a Zegna Venticinque tie over a human life, even yours.

1x11

Red: Janice, my sincerest apologies. I’ll take a rain check on the Stroganoff. It smells delicious.

1x12

Red: We brought a little something for Julian - a care package. It’s a Tibetan singing bowl. What do we have here? Some jackfruit, vitamin D, kola nuts. But we’ve got to get him to eat more protein. He looks like hell. He isn’t vegan, is he? Anyway, I’ve also included a couple of my favorite Richard Pryor records. I want to try and inject a little levity into the proceedings. I mean, Julian looks so crabby all the time. House arrest can be grueling. Borakove: Didn’t you spend, like, four months - in Phonthong? Red: Seven. Borakove: How did you survive? Red: Naps. Occasional calisthenics.

Red: If I tell you, you have to promise me you’ll try the fertilized duck eggs. It’s a daring and unique dining experience. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to hell.

1x14

Red: Who decided on this paneling?

Red: You smell nice. Something new?

Red: Wow! And I like your clutch.

1x17

Red: This piroshki is delicious.

1x18

Red: I come bearing gifts - pimento cheese sandwiches, toasted with the crusts cut off. Eartha Kitt’s recipe. It’s a fantastic story.

2x1

Red: It looks so soft. Shea butter?

2x2

Red: Lizzy! I’d like to introduce you to my manicurist, Rosa Heredia. She’s the one I was telling you about, who was dating that nine-fingered bullfighter from Juarez. This woman is an artist, trained at the Latin-American school of medicine in Havana.

2x11

Red: Oh, that’s a shame. She’s gonna miss the most tantalizingly delicious khorem baklava.

2x12

Red: Oh, that’s a shame. Dendrobium? Ruth: My own hybrid. I call them “Snows of Everest.” Red: Lovely.

2x14

Red: You've changed your hair.

Red: Come on. I got to be worth as much as that fake Xuande Ming vessel was. Yaabari: 18. Red: Sorry, Santos, but those cat’s eye Chrysoberyls are brown, not green. An expensive forgery, but a forgery nonetheless. 20!

3x1

Red: I must say, your hair, the way it frames your face is very becoming.

3x2

Red: You have no idea what I’ve offered Chui to divulge the secret of this recipe. He won’t say. I suspect it has something to do with how he beats his eggs.

3x6

Red: I love mauve, but a soft creamy yellow will just open up the entire room.

3x8

Red: You didn’t find anything. Jilly found it ’cause you’re too dense to even look for it. No wonder Cash doesn’t trust you with anything more important than babysitting. T-bone: That’s big talk coming from a g-guy who’s -

3x12

Red: Yeah. Oh, I should probably mention, I booked a pregnancy massage for you. She’ll be here at 9:00. Her name’s Edwina, she’s a registered nurse, and she smells absolutely divine. I hope it goes with the rest of your stuff. I’m told it pulls out.

3x13

Red: I se your new home is a work in progress. What colors are you considering?

3x17

Red: Came together rather nicely. They went with ruby fringe tulips and pink peonies.

3x20

Red: I was just imagining young Katarina covered in glitter. As an adult, it’s easy to dismiss this stuff as girlish frivolity. You forget the wonder it creates, the light captured, secret wishes evoked. It renders even the darkest days sparkly. Never underestimate the power of glitter.

3x21

Red: They say gifting a bouquet of daffodils ensures happiness, while presenting just one means bad luck is on the horizon.

4x7

Red: You looked absolutely ravishing the other night. What do you do to stay in such incredible shape? Calisthenics? Or Jazzercise? Maybe we should be workout partners. I’ll see you in dance class, Samar.

4x18

Red: So I get a babysitter now? I haven’t had a babysitter since Brenda Gilroy. My God, pot pies, Lawrence Welk, bath time with Brenda. Still my perfect Saturday night.

5x1

Smokey: Sorry it took so long. Once I knew Humberto had your African friend and his chums in transpo, I stopped for some Bengay ointment. Think I overdid it with my back. Red: I use Epsom salt baths.

5x2

Red: Oh, my goodness. Look at those Guan vases. And that flatware. Did you know Nancy Reagan - She could dress a table specifically for that night’s guest at a moment’s notice. Russian Silver for a tea with Gorbachev, Italian silver stag-head stirrup cups for a last-minute supper with Sinatra. Can you imagine?

Liz: What color is that, pumpkin? It looks like a pumpkin. Red: His wife says it’s Tuscan Sunset.

5x10

Red: Paris, I’d like you to meet Elizabeth. Paris and I first met when he was a saucier at La Bernadin. Liz: Pleasure to meet you. Paris: Shall I set a third place for lunch? Liz: No, thank you. Red: You may want to think twice. He’s making a turbot with a matsutake mushroom broth.

5x12

Red: What makes her happy? Does she like a good foot massage?

5x15

Red: Maybe a massage parlor. The athletes would love it!

5x16

Red: Mr. Garvey, might I suggest you enjoy what little time you have left - crab cakes, scalp massages, perhaps a double feature of “The 400 Blows” and “Jules and Jim” - whatever floats your boat. Do it now, because I will find those bones, and when I do, I’m gonna kill you.

5x17

Red: I hope you have indigestion. Liz: No. But if it makes you feel better, I’m in a bad mood. Red: Excellent! Dembe: He’s making fenugreek porridge. My ancestors learned that it can cure a troubled stomach and soothe aches and pains. Red: Medicinal South Sudanese cuisine. Liz: Cooking it up in their embassy’s kitchen. Aren’t you living large?

5x19

Red: This apartment. Right here. Oh. My God. To have been the proverbial fly on Clyde Tolson’s duvet. Liz: Clyde Tolson lived here? J. Edgar Hoover’s lover? Red: This was their secret hideaway. Imagine the conversations. Cooing over JFK’s lovers. Slandering Dr. King. What peignoir to wear to bed. When I saw the apartment was for sale, I couldn’t resist. Liz: You own the apartment where the homophobic head of the FBI carried on his affair with his boyfriend? Red: Allegedly. I wouldn’t admit this in mixed company, but J. Edgar and I have a surprising amount in common. For instance, we both always get our man.

Red: What’s that smell? Is that lavender?  And mint. Is that your head? What kind of products do you use? I’m dying of curiosity. Garvey: Wouldn’t that be nice. Red: You smell that? Dembe: Yes. It’s lovely. Red: I’ll say. Absolutely lovely. Whatever it is, you and I need to get some.

5x22

Red: Oh. A lightweight merino. Super 120, natural stretch. I swear by it.

Waters: So, what do you think of this one? Red: Oh, John, yes. I like that. But go with the Snowy River Collection in the Glen Urquhart plaid. It worked for the Duke of Windsor. And, just my opinion, consider a vest. Waters: You think? Are vests in again? Red: Vests have never been out.

6x4

Vega: Yeah. I also got the blade that’s gonna carve you like a pumpkin. Red: Jack-o’-lantern. Vega: Huh? Red: A pumpkin is a gourd. A jack-o’-lantern is the carved pumpkin. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I knew what you meant.

6x5

Baldwin: One. I arrested that man there, in the navy-blue suit. Sima: May the record reflect the witness has identified the defendant. Red: Uh, o-objection. Judge Wilkins: Grounds? Red: The suit is actually a prunelle weave blue with a subtle overlay of red. So in the right light, it goes quite plum.

[pluckyredhead]

Daredevil 101: The Nifty (Late) Nineties

Last time on Daredevil 101, Matt had yet another nervous breakdown, and Foggy finally found out, after 30 years of canon, that his best friend was Daredevil.

Now, with Matt having un-faked his death, he, Foggy, and Karen are free to settle into a new status quo - and it’s a refreshingly light-hearted one! Honestly, I would say this is the peppiest Daredevil ever is - there’s less melodramatic thought-bubbling than the Silver Age, and no undercurrent of severe depression like in the Waid run. It’s just sheer, pleasant fun.

In fact, it’s basically a romcom, with wacky misunderstandings and lots of workplace shenanigans thrown in. Which, considering we’re talking 1996-1998, is right on schedule.

Over the next three posts we’ll be covering Daredevil Volume 1 #353-375, mostly by the creative teams of Karl Kesel/Cary Nord and Joe Kelly/Gene Colan (the latter of whom also drew much of Silver Age Daredevil, aw).

Content Warning: Reading between the lines, emotional abuse by a parent.

We begin with Matt deciding that the best way to announce his return to the world is to stroll into the courtroom during one of Foggy’s cases and just start arguing it alongside him, creating a media circus. Foggy’s...less than thrilled:

How on earth would he know you’re really blind, Matt? You never a) explained anything or b) apologized, you literally just jumped out the window and ran away.

Anyway, they don’t have time to go into it (and Matt gets to skip out of apologizing again) because they get a shocking message:

1. Foggy, you are a fashion icon, never change.

2. How does he know Rosalind Sharpe? And why is he so agitated at the prospect of meeting with her???

Meanwhile, Karen's trying to find her own direction in life:

Matt’s always been pretty careless and jovial about Karen selling out his secret identity - he has literally never tasked her with or blamed her for it - but it weighs on Karen. Also, I don’t blame Karen for not being sure what job to take, since her last two were “handing out anti-porn pamphlets on a street corner” and “running a drug addiction hotline,” both of which are noble causes but neither of which seemed to come with a salary.

Side note: this haircut is very dated but it is my 100% favorite Karen haircut of all time. So kicky! So fresh! So Monica Gellar circa Season 2! I love it.

Meanwhile, Matt’s gone back to “swashbuckling banter-er” when it comes to fighting crime:

I mean, Matt’s jokes are stupid, but that’s part of the point. At least he didn’t say “Talk to the hand” or “Don’t have a cow, man.”

Later, he and Foggy meet with Rosalind, and she offers them both junior partnerships in her firm. Foggy instantly, gleefully accepts, but Matt’s more reluctant:

So yeah, Rosalind is a stone cold bitch, and I don’t use that word lightly. I think she’s a fascinating character but not because she’s, like, not an awful person or anything. (For anyone reading this who doesn’t know why this is so awful: Rosalind is Foggy’s biological mom, though Matt and the reader don’t know that at this point. That’s why this means so much to Foggy.)

It’s also pretty baffling, because Rosalind declares Foggy “adequate” and Matt “astounding,” but Matt has been a) disbarred and b) declared dead twice, while Foggy is a former district attorney and legal counsel to both the Fantastic Four and Tony Stark around this point in time. The perceived wisdom about the characters up until Bendis takes over in a couple years is that Matt is a brilliant attorney and Foggy’s a fumbling buffoon, and both Kesel and Kelly steer hard into that curve, but not only does it not match what the characters actually do, it never made any sense from a character point of view. Why would Matt, The Greatest Lawyer Ever, saddle himself with an incompetent? And how could he run The Most Successful Law Firm In New York while dragging Foggy’s dead weight behind him when it’s canon that he barely ever has the time or emotional capacity to do legal work? I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS FOGGY NELSON SLANDER!

Anyway, Matt and Foggy take some time to hash it out (though Matt obviously doesn’t tell Foggy about Rosalind’s ultimatum), but it’s a tense discussion considering how hurt Foggy still is about the Daredevil thing:

“I can only say I’m sorry so many times, Foggy!” Maybe start with once? That’s a good number to begin at, Matthew. (This “UGH get OVER it” attitude continues for a while, btw, until Foggy finally stops bringing it up. Gee, I wonder where he learned to put up with such belittling dismissal from his loved ones?)

That’s Liz Osborn at the door - formerly Liz Allan, Spider-Man’s high school dream girl, now the widow of Harry Osborn, mother of his child Normie, and head of OsCorp. Foggy helped her with a legal matter recently and she’s come to, well...

Yeah, she’s there to ask him out. GET IT, GIRL. Liz knows what’s what. (Well, she does now. Not so much when she was 16, but then who among us did?)

Check out Foggy’s foreshadowing about Rosalind there in panel 2, btw.

Matt, meanwhile, realizes that he really does owe Foggy this after, you know, the lying to him forever thing, so he tells Rosalind he’s in, on one condition:

Yeah, so Rosalind wants to fuck her son’s best friend, right? That’s what’s happening here? I mean, I kind of get it - Cary Nord draws a hell of a Matt - but also Jesus Christ, no, Rose, keep it in your pants.

And so Nelson and Murdock becomes Sharpe, Nelson, and Murdock. Meanwhile, Karen is fully on board the Foggy/Liz train:

Matt, as usual, is deliberately obtuse/borderline resentful of the fact that Foggy might have other relationships. Oh, Matthew. I’m sure if you just tell Foggy you’re in a triad with him and Karen he’d be on board.

Hey look! It’s Misty!

(She’s the investigator for Rosalind’s firm. She’s also talking about Danny there, yes. They dated pretty consistently in the comics for like 40 years. They’re very cute. COMICS DANNY IS BETTER. Anyway I like it when she and Matt flirt.)

Oh and hey, while we’re here, let’s have the one-two punch of Nelson and Murdock in action. ONE: Matt, having badgered Foggy into defending a supervillain for convoluted Daredevil reasons, fails to show up in court:

Foggy, you are a sartorial wonder and a joy forever, I love you. (Seriously: KILLING. IT.)

TWO: Matt bursts in, either in costume or out, with evidence he’s just come into possession of that’ll blow this case wide open!

There you go, that’s every Daredevil trial scene ever except for the time Matt made Peter dress up as Daredevil so that he could cross-examine him.

Please note Rosalind cackling evilly back there, because she’s trying to get Foggy to throw Matt under the bus, because...she resorted to extortion to get Matt to join her firm and now she wants to ruin his reputation? Which will hurt hers to? Again, Rosalind’s so busy being calculating and cutthroat that her actions frequently don’t make any goddamn sense.

But this is also pretty much the moment that Foggy lets go of his resentment over Matt’s secret and re-pledges his troth, so I feel a lot of feels about it. Even if I would like to see Matt dangle a bit longer.

Meanwhile, Karen’s found a job, though she’s been a bit cagey about what it is with Matt. Why? Well, she’s a late night DJ/talk radio host...but for WFSK, which is owned by - you guessed it - Fisk. But she’s great at it!

This dialogue is 100% ridiculous but also 100% believable, can’t you just hear her cadence? If you’re old enough to remember this kind of thing, at least.

Rosalind has decided to turn Foggy’s friendship with Daredevil (who of course she doesn’t know is Matt) into a win for the firm by branding him as “Daredevil’s Pal,” so she calls in and puts a very startled Foggy on the phone so that he can talk about his relationship with Daredevil:

YOU GUYS. I’M CAN’T. <3 <3 <3

A few callers dial in with weird theories and questions (“What if he has weird bug eyes?” “Whatever happened to those funny little kids he used to hang out with?”), but then “Mike” from the Bronx calls to ask what Karen - I mean, “Paige Angel” - thinks of Daredevil:

Karen goes on to say that Daredevil’s saved her life, and she wouldn’t be the person she is without him. “Mike” replies that Daredevil must be blind...if he can’t see how lucky he is to have people like her in his corner. He adds that whoever Daredevil is, he’d probably be impressed that “Paige” is trying to do some good from the inside at a place like WFSK.

Karen, not being an idiot, recognizes Matt and is touched. And Matt, who’s just heard his two favorite people wax rhapsodic about how wonderful he is?

AWWWWW LOOK AT THIS HAPPY BOY! You enjoy it, buddy. You don’t get to have it too often.

Next up: Nelson family drama, and the return of two of Matt’s old flames!

[midoridragonuus]

sanguinem sacrificium: wine

< previous | compendium | next >

- x -

Dinner had been relatively quiet; an oddity in the two's relationship. The absence of laughter and faux anger continued to expand each time Gabriel opened his mouth to speak. He'd been dying to ask just what was wrong, and what he could do to fix it, but his brand of repair was poor timing and backhanded insults - something the woman across from him would hardly appreciate under the circumstances - so he stayed still as a statue to not disturb whatever weighed heavy on his date’s mind.

Each time he tried to break the weighty silence, he was met with the woman staring into her dinner. It pained him, sitting in front of a beautifully prepared fettuccine and not be able to touch it, but he'd rather associate food with joy than the vicious awkwardness that hovered over them. Rather than ruin one of his favorite pastimes by provoking the woman, he figured it'd be better to sit in painful silence.

If it were anyone else, he would have made up an excuse to dine and dash. It'd be so easy to rip the napkin from his lap, toss it near the candelabra, and lie through a smile that so and so had called and he really needed to go. But his heart played a different tune. He really did enjoy her company, even if she refused to be open with her feelings more than once in a blue moon. Really, she was the personification of a  hesitant clam showing its pearl to the rare onlooker. It was those rare glimpses that kept him going - and so he suffered silently at the impromptu table with his best 'I'm trying' face.

Each tick of the clock gave him another reason to leave. The monotonous sound sent an uncomfortable shiver through his being. He hated this. Every minute - he hated having to be reserved, quiet, and stuck in a silent vacuum. If it continued any longer, he might just leap from his chair and put on a show, no matter the consequences.

A deep exhale brought Gabriel out of his funk, allowing the man to shift attention from his uneaten dinner to the woman sitting his opposite.

Still refusing to meet his gaze, she instead frowned into the pasta.

"I don't like him."

The man lifted an eyebrow, smile slowly spreading across his face. It was unusual to get so much satisfaction from a single sentence, but he was thrilled that she'd finally said something to get the ball rolling.

"That's odd, Elliecakes. You don't not like anybody."

Her head shot up defensively, glare painting a much harsher reality on the younger face. "I can not like anyone I want to."

"C'mon," he prodded. "All I do around here is be a nuisance and slander the other employees any chance I get. Gotta get ahead, you know?"

Without waiting for an answer to the question, he quickly added, "And all you do is defend them. What makes this guy any different?"

Ellie's frown deepened. "You know I can't talk about that."

"Can't and won't are two very different things." His eyes drifted downwards, ready to play instigator.

Eyes narrowed in the candlelight, making them twice as bitter as they would have been under the fluorescent glow of the office.

Stirring his noodles, which had tempered under the muted cold war, Gabriel shoved a full fork into his mouth. The more obnoxious, the better. "Oh well. Guess he won't get that welcome basket."

Every soft syllable led to a spray of alfredo. And despite the onslaught of flavors, the most fruitful was the look of sheer anger on Ellie's face.

The woman's silverware clattered to the plate. "Listen, you ass."

He winked. "My ears are always open for you. So are my arms, and legs too if you wanna get freaky."

Groaning, she leaned back. Delicate hands ran down her face in exhaustion. She knew she'd been played. Provocation was precisely the manner of Gabriel's dickery. And she'd been so out of it, she fell hook, line, and sinker without any hint of struggle.

"Don't beat yourself up. Everyone has a bad day." His chair managed to round the table as he scooted closer. "Besides, it's not every day that I can pull one over on you. Not to mention, humility is a good look."

"Then you should paint yourself with it." She shoved him away gently.

"Mn," he nodded in agreement, now staking out the woman's dinner as his lay forgotten.

"Really, though. He's... different."

Snatching her fork, he began to slowly wind the noodles into a more manageable state. "We're all different, babe."

"No, like..." She sighed again, unable to articulate exactly why the newcomer bothered her so much. "I don't like him because there's nothing to like?"

Gabriel clutched at his shirt, aghast. "Ellie! How can you say that about someone you don't know? He might donate his income to orphans and nurse cats or something!"

Ignoring his melodrama, she continued. "It's not that I don't want to like him, it's just that... I'm privy to a lot of information."

"Oh?"

"Confidential information," she replied, preemptively shutting down his question before it went further. "And that's the problem. There's very few things at Schwartz Industries that I don't know when it comes to employee files. Most information is unobstructed when Schwartz hands me the files. Of course, there's some stuff that's redacted on almost all of them, but they're such small portions. I think the largest ones are Schwartz, Werites, and... Saya? I get the first two, and... I didn't really ask about Saya's. She was here before I was... So I never really thought about it."

Gabriel nodded as she brushed the bangs from her face.

"But... even on those, I could read some information. But his... Ugh. Don't... Don't tell anyone, alright?"

Gasping, the man pulled away from their closeness. "Ellie! Spilling company secrets by sleeping with the enemy?"

A kick of the chair accompanied another shove. "Knock that off. I'm not sleeping with you, and it's not really... It doesn't violate any protocol that I know of."

"Uh-huh. Well, I cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Can't and won't tell a soul after that, right, Elliepop?"

Finally resting on both hands, propped up on the table, the woman gave him a troubled look. "The only part of his file I can read is his name. I can't see his age, place of birth, blood type, division, or anything. Everything is blacked out. No other employee has that level of censorship."

"That's... not right." Gabriel sat upwards, laughter falling from his face. His shoulders sat rigid, demeanor shifting in a matter of seconds.

Ellie shook her head. "No, it's not, and-"

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled the attention of the couple to the door.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Another stood in the doorway, arms crossed as if waiting for an answer was no more than an inconvenience to him. Even under gold-rimmed frames, the sheer lack of empathy for his interruption was apparent.

The woman craned her head to the door, eyes wide. She sat frozen, staring into the face of the newcomer with doe like eyes.

Noting her lack of response, Gabriel quickly took her hands into his. "Yes. Absolutely. Now get lost."

The man stepped further in the room, surveying the atmosphere with a disinterested gaze. "Can't, sorry. It's an emergency. Schwartz demanded we go over a few more interesting items."

Upon hearing her boss's name, the woman snapped to attention. "What? Why didn't she call me?"

As she turned to dig through her purse, the stranger simply shrugged. "I don't know. But it's urgent."

"I doubt it's that urgent," Gabriel spat, holding his date's purse open so she could continue looking with both hands.

Tugging her phone free, she motioned for Gabriel to put down the purse. Despite not facing her, as his eyes never left the strange man, he obliged and set it on the floor.

The man at the door smiled, allowing the glasses to slip down his nose. "You know, I don't really care what you think. I was sent to collect the child, not her dog."

Roused by the other's comeback, Gabriel stood and quickly approached the man. Though he was a head shorter, the anger drawn into his features was more pronounced than it had been in ages. He poked a finger towards the other's chest. "I want you to listen, and listen good, friendo. I don't give a shit what you call me. I've been called every name in the book, and then some. But you need to start re-thinking how you address my Ellie. She's not some child. She's a stunning woman who runs as Head of Divisions for the entire company. You show her respect, or you're going to learn a host of new things in your time here, and I volunteer to be the teacher."

Looking down at the riled man, Carlos swatted the accusatory finger away. "I still don't care."

A burning rage coursed through Gabriel's body. Every nerve sparked to life and roasted in an unyielding fire. It was ridiculous, and he knew it was ridiculous. There's no reason for this man to hit every one of his annoyances, but here he was. Everything bothered him, from his monotonous voice to his smarmy attitude, to even his chinos. Like a switch in the brain, everything turned at once, and Gabriel was a soldier again.

A fist went flying towards the taller man, aiming to knock the ego from the man's liquid voice.

"Gabriel, no! Wait!"

His fist resounded with a dull thud, finding a cradle in Carlos' palm.

Leaving his punch where it lay dead, Gabriel turned over his shoulder to look at the woman at the table. A mixture of confusion and hesitation covered Ellie's face. "It's... it's fine. I did get something from Schwartz after all? I guess my phone was on silent or something. I just... I don't remember doing it, but the proper orders are here. I.... Please don't be angry I have to dip out, okay? I'll talk to you later...?"

Not wanting to add to her conflicting emotions, the man shook his head gently. Yeah, no, Elliecakes. It's fine. It's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm okay, okay?"

She could tell his answer wasn't genuine, but she appreciated the gesture regardless. Grabbing her phone, she shoved it back into the bag and quickly ripped the napkin from her lap. Shuffling to the doorway where the men still stood engaged in action, she placed a quick kiss to Gabriel's cheek.

His hands faltered, finally removing himself from Carlos' grasp before backing away in a slight stupor. As the two disappeared into the dimming hall, he returned to the failed dinner.

He wanted to tell himself that it was Ellie's voice that stopped him just enough that the fist didn't connect. He wanted to explain the lack of violence on his renewed conscious or poor judgment of distance, but none of it was true. The only truth was that Carlos had the reflexes and sheer strength to stop his punch, and that frightened him to his core.