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Determining and eliminating every obstacle presented to someone's health and longevity. Minimizing their pain. Exploiting their gifts to ensure a better quality of life for future generations.

That's duty.

"A measure of comfort in being helpless," he decides, casting a wan smile over to her.

"Mm. Well, by that definition, maybe I need some practice, too."

She sighs again, propping her chin on her hand.

"Granted, I know how that sounds." Her eyes cut sideways to the bartender, who's busy a few seats down with other patrons. Satisfied they're not going to be overheard, she continues, "Coming from someone you've tied up."

Her joke lands, Hap's eyes dropping in amusement. He picks up his Old Fashioned and has a drink.

"It's a sort of armor, the roles you and I have." Even if they are true to themselves, how can they ever be sure? Of themselves or of each other? That is comfort. Without it, they wouldn't be here, or in the exchange that led them here, or in many of the restaurants and hotel rooms before that. As the warm bite of whiskey fades from his tongue, he adds, "Maybe it's just got a couple dents in it now."

He doesn't like armor, though. He's a man who thrills in taking things apart and seeing their essence. The protection of armor is antithetical to that.

It does occur to her that when he talked about submission with regards to himself, he didn't mention vulnerability. Which could mean nothing, of course; they were texting in the middle of the night about a topic that both of them could probably spend hours dissecting.

"Do you want to take it off?"

He was, before this, or their combined efforts fooled him into thinking he was. And that she was too. It had nothing to do with who tied up who. Bella was never less helpless than when she was alone with him.

Those late night messages, when she couldn't sleep and turned first to him, when his buzzing phone stirred a tired smile because he knew the notification was from her. That was vulnerability.

"Not tonight."

"No, not tonight. You have places to be."

Watching expressions play across his face, her thoughts drift along similar lines. Just talking about what we want, he said. That was Hap, unarmored; that's something she gets nowhere else. Something she'd do for precious few.

She reaches out to touch his knee, thumb stroking his thigh, a semi-conscious echo of how he touched her wrist.

"We don't have to decide right now." A crooked smile. "Anyone ever tell you that you think too much? I get that sometimes. Mostly from myself."

He has places to be. His mood has shifted; he contemplates canceling. Rather, he contemplates dismissing Mel in person and compensating her for the time they were supposed to spend together. But under his skin like a splinter is Bella's comment that someone asked her about him. He can't be certain that wasn't Mel.

Whether or not he follows through with their date, it says something about him. Hap discards the idea of canceling, tempting though it is. It would expose him more than the alternative, and it might do him some good after the tenuous push and pull he's had with Bella, to immerse himself in a set of clearly defined rules.

Hap's hand alights on the back of hers, a tender kiss of fingertips.

"It's been said," he admits with a self-deprecating grin. "But you know how I feel about thinking too little."

The weight of his touch gives her the confidence to let her hand settle there on his leg. This feels more like a détente than a resolution, but it isn't without its victories.

His grin makes her chuckle. It's a relief. "Mhmm. And about questions.

"You can ask me questions, too, you know. In lieu of assuming."

Was it Mel who asked about him?

Does Bella message any of her other clients?

Does she have places to be after this?

Unilaterally, questions that are too telling. He soaks in the gentle pressure of her hand on his leg.

"You were trying to get under my skin with these, weren't you?" His touch ghosts over her bruises. Hap's expression is one of conspiratorial curiosity. He's not looking for another reason to punish her. Not in the way he has these past few weeks.

Her eyes drop to his fingers, and she bites her lip before nodding. It could come across overly coquettish if it weren't so clearly automatic. She does like him touching her, after all.

"Guilty." She looks up through her lashes -- that's a deliberate move. "How'd I do?"

Good. He's proven himself capable of pettiness tonight. That side of him is appeased by her admission that she is too. Her comely delivery of it darkens his eyes, his smile.

Any other set of circumstances, he would be turned off.

Hap wraps his hand around her wrist and squeezes firmly. "Very well."

Bella inhales sharply. The bruises aren't that tender anymore; that isn't the point. The point is picking up where they once left off. If the roles they take on with each other are armor, then this is a place where they can both, for a moment, be safe.

"Can you forgive me for wanting a pound of flesh?" Her voice is a touch throatier. She reaches for her drink with her free hand to take a swallow.

"I can." Hap's grip is steady but for his forefinger stroking up her forearm. "With a bit of work."

Some flesh of his own. He'll process what's been said here, get his head on right by their next date. After all, they're not a couple. He can reframe what he learned tonight as research. A study in Bella. What he doesn't let go, he can restructure to serve them both. With the right perspective, a little jealousy can lead to a lot of fun — but he'll make it clear before they say goodbye that he has no desire to make it a regular scene.

A fizz of arousal makes her shift slightly in her seat, and she reminds herself again that her goal coming here was, and is, explicitly, not to sleep with Hap. Flirtation is fine; hell, it plays to her own petty vengefulness if it leaves him wanting more.

She does feel the need to redirect momentarily, though. Putting down her drink again, she reaches over to cup his chin in her fingers.

"Hap," softly, not unkindly. "Tell me how we stand before we start negotiating my penance."

Her hand drops, brushing over his sternum; with the other, she squeezes his knee.

"And if you don't know, tell me what you don't know."

His heart shudders like distant thunder. Not from her touch, as invigorating as it is. From his importance to her. Her need to know.

Maybe some of it is to protect herself. Emotionally, physically, or both. It would be sensible and he appreciates pragmatism. He can't begrudge her that. She's still willing to risk it for the intimacy they share. If not, she would have walked out on him already.

Releasing her wrist, he takes the hand at his chest.

"I know that I want to keep seeing you. Hearing from you." A guileless quirk of a smile. "Talking to you.

"As... fraught as this misunderstanding has been, it taught me something about you." With humor and humility, "And you about me. And I value that. I do."

Laying that out, he reaches for his drink with his free hand and braces for her response, presumably her reciprocation, with a measured pull.

"I do too."

It's one of the ways they're well-matched. They hoard knowledge, for its uses, for its own sake. An unpleasant truth is ultimately preferable to a comfortable ignorance.

Within limits, of course. Bella's hardly going to start regaling Hap with stories about her other clients now. And her past is irrelevant, a closed book of interest only to herself. Maybe she can allow herself a little more honesty in the present, though; let Hap see a woman unvarnished occasionally, instead of calculating every move to keep him contented.

"I like you a lot, you know." She twines her fingers through his, smiling ruefully. "I'd like to keep you around. And ... mm. I want to make sure I say this the right way."

She shifts in her seat again, this time to lean closer, to meet his eyes.

"If you want to keep seeing Mel, that doesn't make you any less mine. Because I get to know that every time she plays you, it's because I put you in her hands. Because you trusted me."

How refreshingly simple, to be told in no uncertain terms that he is liked. It's a complete thought. Hap doesn't feel any urge to scour it for motive or honesty. The Bower isn't desperate for business. She has no reason to lie.

He hasn't displayed the behavior of an ideal client but he is ideal for her.

Hap tightens the vine of their fingers as Bella shifts him back into the mood to see her colleague with the efficiency and arousal of one of Mel's own strikes. His nerves buzz under the skin where she touches him, where her breath breezes over him, stirring his core to a simmer.

"Enjoy tonight then." Hap closes the distance further, laying a murmur to her ear, "And soon I'll make you mine again."

She can practically taste it in the air when his energy shifts, sending an echo of desire up through her legs and stomach and spine and heart. When he leans in, his breath warm on her ear, she shivers -- impossible to hide even if she wanted to -- and then laughs, heady with satisfaction and relief.

"I'm not afraid to work for it. Being yours or being forgiven."

Now that's unvarnished truth. This conversation alone was a lot of work. Worth it for the promise in Hap's voice.

"When do you have to go?"

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