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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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