Sarah's Apartment (currently uninhabited)

[Sarah]

Continued from The Onyx: Club Exterior and Alleys with Chris


If Chris had really expected Sarah, who was entirely too fond of him, to agree with his sentiment that yes, he had been a jerk to the apparent victim in the alley, then he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. She'd just nudged him, gently, and they'd headed toward their building without another word.

She didn't even bother to tell him to make himself comfortable as they stepped into her apartment. "You know the drill," she remarked, kicking her shoes to one side and wiggling her toes in the carpet for a minute. "Help yourself to drinks, I don't wait on you. I'll start the pasta while you set up the movie, and I think there's still some garlic bread in the freezer from the last time." Sarah affected a dramatic sigh of exasperation. "Someday, some lucky woman is going to take you off my hands, and when she does, I will make her a gift of that recipe so you don't have to come and mooch." She gave him a grin which completely contradicted any perceived annoyance, and headed into her kitchen to fill the spaghetti pot with water.

[Chris]

Chris hadn’t needed Sarah to agree, but he was still glad she hadn’t. He didn’t want to actually feel like a jerk about some drunk who’d hit his own head against a wall because he’d enjoyed the alcohol a little too much. It was no secret that drunks weren’t his favourite type of people, and Sarah was possibly the only person who knew why. It wasn’t exactly a reason to be proud of, after all.

He laughed quietly as she headed into the kitchen. “And then I get someone else nagging at me to eat more, and not to get shot at so much,” he teased, heading for her DVD collection, and quickly finding their choice for the night. He slipped the case out from where it had been slotted, and crouched to put it in the player. “Besides, you offered, remember?” Chris stood with a grin he knew she would be aware of, even if she couldn’t see it from her place in the kitchen.

[Sarah]

"Oh, I know," she called back. "But hey, what's wrong with someone else nagging at you to eat more and be shot less?" Granted, that was her job, but it wouldn't be always.

She turned on the burner and filled her spaghetti pot with water. She always used the same pot for almost everything; it was the one in which her grandmother Masterson used to make chili, and soup, and stew. Lots of good memories affiliated with that pot, although the only other person who understood her attachment to it was pushing buttons on the DVD player; anyone else who saw her cook with it usually commented that it was kind of junky.

"You have a preference for the pasta shape?" she asked teasingly. "I have angel hair, spirals, seashells, and fettucini."

[Chris]

“Because one nag is enough for any man,” he called back, standing from in front of the DVD player, and subconsciously smoothing out the seat of his pants from where he’d crouched on his haunches. He realised quickly that he hadn’t even taken his jacket off, and proceeded to do just that, slinging it over the back of a chair near the door that was probably only there for decoration rather than practical use. He also bent down to unhook his ankle holster, since they would be slouching for the rest of the evening, and a concealed weapon didn’t lend itself well to comfort… especially when it was already hard enough trying to find a comfortable position because of your height.

Glancing toward the kitchen, Chris leaned on the back of the couch, so he could see her from where he balanced. “Wait… how do you cook spaghetti without using spaghetti?” he asked with a grin, head cocked with eyes narrowed. He automatically readied himself for some kind of retaliation; whether it was verbal or a thrown dishcloth was up to Sarah, really.

[Sarah]

She laughed. "Yeah, well, relax; I'll most likely be retiring from the job one of these days. Who knows, random woman at the Onyx who gave you her number might be my replacement." At the spaghetti question, she stuck out her tongue when he came into view. "Just for that, you can do the dishes. It all tastes the same, I just like to use different pasta shapes sometimes."

She put away all but the angel hair pasta and set the pot to boil. "I think there's some wine in the cabinet above the fridge, if you'd rather have that than soda," she told him. "Bit late at night for coffee."

[Chris]

“I usually have to do the dishes anyway,” he reminded her with a dry laugh. “And anyway, Random Woman might not be so interested after an actual date. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” He shrugged, patting one of the cushions simply because it was there and he could.

“Wine?” Chris looked back towards the kitchen. “You’re not getting all sophisticated on me, are you?” he asked with another chuckle to himself. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d offered him wine as opposed to soda.

[Sarah]

"Try turning on the charm and maybe she'll actually go out on a second one," Sarah pointed out, salting the water as it started to boil. "You know, don't act like you usually act with me."

In response to the wine remark, she gave a small snort. "I am a lady of sophistication, you just never noticed," she retorted. "Anyway, the wine was a gift from one of my dates a few weeks back. I give him points for originality, he didn't bring flowers."

[Chris]

“Oh, thanks for that,” he laughed, rolling his eyes, and turning his back on the sofa, before wandering into the kitchen doorway instead. “I’ll remember that, next time you need me to do you a favour.” He crossed his arms as he stood there, offering her a soft smirk, almost as a ‘warning’.

“And a date brought you wine?” Chris quirked a brow. “That was some wishful thinking, wasn’t it?” He headed into the kitchen, moving past her and towards the fridge. He’d never been much of a wine drinker anyway.

[Sarah]

"Suppose it was. Maybe he was miffed that I didn't pop the cork right away, and that set the stage for a lousy date." She shrugged, stirring oregano and basil into the tomato paste which served as the base of her spaghetti sauce. "I'm not a wine fan, so I keep hoping I can get rid of it....though I should have known better than to offer it to you, I guess, since you don't like it much either. Maybe I'll give it to the captain for Christmas or something." Glancing over, she added, "As long as you're in there, get me that half an onion from the vegetable drawer, and the grated four-cheese blend. And a Mountain Dew. Pretty please."

[Chris]

“Think fast.”

Chris grinned as Sarah caught the onion, offering her tall partner a scowl for throwing it in the first place. He gave her a shrug, getting out the cheese. He decided against throwing that, leaning across the kitchen to put it on the bench beside her instead. “Hey, you caught it, didn’t you?” he said to her before she could think of anything to say to chide him.

Returning his attention to the fridge, he pulled out two Mountain Dews, moving to the opposite counter to the one Sarah was working on. Setting her can down out of her way, he hopped up to sit on the bench, opening his own soda after doing so.

[Sarah]

"You're a pain in the ass," Sarah told him, fishing out a cutting board.

"You know that's why you love me."

"You really want to taunt the woman holding the long sharp weaponry?" she asked, pulling a knife from her cutlery drawer and pointing it loosely in his direction. She smiled, however, and turned the blade on the helpless onion instead.

She thought about telling Chris that he was free to go and sit in the living room, he didn't need to feel obligated to keep her company -- but after four years of this banter, he knew that as well as he knew everything else about her. For some reason, he seemed to like to watch her cook, and it wasn't like he couldn't alternate his attention between that and the movie as it pleased him. Anyone else probably would have been shooed away so they wouldn't make her nervous, but Chris was practically part of the furniture in Sarah's apartment, at least as far as her comfort level was concerned. There was something almost beyond normal about standing at her stove in bare feet and a clubbing outfit, making spaghetti sauce while he lounged maybe three feet away, drinking soda and reciting lines along with their favorite manic-depressed robot.

[Chris]

Laughing to himself, he shrugged. “I know you wouldn’t stab me,” he said to her calmly. “Too much mess on your kitchen floor.” He grinned.

“I didn’t start the movie yet; figured I’d wait until you were done in here.” Chris knew Sarah didn’t care about only hearing the dialogue and soundtrack as opposed to enjoying the action on screen as well, but since they were both hovering in the kitchen, he’d decided against starting it up. It could wait, for the time-being, and they could watch it while they ate, as they were prone to do anyway.

Taking a drink from his can, he watched her add to the sauce and monitor the pasta, glancing down at the floor for a moment simply so he wouldn’t seem like he was staring. Even if Sarah was used to it, he didn’t want to seem rude, at any given time; he was like that with most people, as she knew, and it was a habit — a product of the way he had been raised.

[Sarah]

"If you were anyone else," she remarked casually, not looking at him at all, "you'd have been tossed out on your ass long ago. I hope you realize that." She almost felt, rather than saw, the grin that would form his response.

"Been saving this for the next time I made spaghetti," she added, moving to the refrigerator and pulling out a container. "We are carnivores in the extreme sometimes...I got some small cuts of steak on sale, and I cooked up one of them and shredded it for the sauce. Thought it would make an interesting change from plain old ground beef." She opened the package and sniffed, nodding to herself before dumping the contents into the saucepan. "Some black pepper and minced garlic, and it'll be just about perfect, I think," she informed him, stirring the bubbling pasta.

[Chris]

“I’d like to see you try and throw me,” he teased, can halfway to his mouth as he smirked at her.

He watched her fetch the food from the refrigerator, tilting his head curiously as she explained. “Should be interesting,” he observed with a calm nod, shifting slightly on the counter to get himself more comfortable. He knew that if he showed he was uncomfortable in even the slightest of ways, she would shoo him into the living room, but he was content to just sit and bug her while she cooked.

[Sarah]

"About five more minutes," Sarah mused, looking at the pasta bouncing around in the boiling water. "The sauce just needs to warm up, really. Oh, the bread!"

A minute later, the garlic bread was warming in the oven, and the whole apartment was starting to smell like an Italian restaurant. "If I ever decide to give up this life of anti-crime, at least I have something to fall back on," she quipped, turning down the heat under the saucepan. She lifted a spoonful of the deep red sauce, blew on it lightly, and offered it for his inspection. "Judges?"