Under a neon moon [Bullock, Montoya, Bivins, Selina]

[Deleted]

The bar was a dive, that's all there is to say about it. It had wood seats held together by lacquer and inertia, split vinyl that may once had been smooth before age got to it. The neon sign flickered a loud counterpoint to the crackling sound of the record on the jukebox playing Jimmy Buffett. Remnants of old advertisements on the wall and layers of wood finish interspersed with layers of beers of nights lost. It smelled like an old le Carre novel, and looked like something out of a more run down version of something Charles Bukowski would write about.

The bartender washed out the cups and listened. This was a quiet bar, with the exceptions of the bad country music, the loud neon signs, the sounds of sirens outside and the drunk in the corner ruining the words to the song at the jukebox "Getting paid by the hour, and older by the minute. My boss just pushed me, over the limit. . . " but it was a quiet bar, mostly. Bullock frequented it enough and he didn't like to be disturbed when he drank. Oh, and Bivins, that's him by the jukebox. Ruining Jimmy Buffett. 

The Bartender remains stoic, but winces a bit at the high note that came out of nowhere. Bivins once carried a tune in a bucket, but he put it down somewhere. Most people would cut Bivins off at this point, stop the beers, but his coworkers knew that this is just what he was like, and he's only had a few sips of his beer. Pabst Blue Ribbon? What a hipster! 

[Deleted]

It's too damn cold out there. Too damn cold by far. And the temperature doesn't have a damn thing to do with it.

The sirens passing by get louder and then softer and never quite go away. Red and blue light dances a slow, somber terpsichore across the shadowy alleyways. The criminal element is out in force tonight... That's Gotham for you. But not here. Here, they flee from the lights and sirens like cockroaches. 

Maybe that's because whatever was going down in this part of town already went down tonight.

Whatever. Forget it. Push it out of your mind. You have to distance yourself from the streets. If you aren't careful, you end up being nothing more than a slave to the job. Quickest way for a cop to get killed in Gotham City is to forget to live a life outside the job.

Pink neon light flickers and buzzes as if the sign on top of Lou's wants to remind Montoya that it's old enough to be her grandfather. She's not sure this place was ever new. It's impossible to imagine it being anything but worn and old. No, that's not the word... More like "broken in." Like a pair of shoes too comfortable to replace, even when the sole has a crack in it.

She pulls the door open and warmth filters out. Warmth, the smell of stale whiskey and wood polish, the sound of a wailing, disemboweled seagull...

"Oh, God," Renée says, wincing reflexively as if trying to shut out the noise. "There is no chance Bivins is actually that drunk."

She holds the door for... Well, whoever's with her. Probably her partner.

[Deleted]

Entrade de Harvey - irate - Bullock. He was still huffy and puffy from the work day. He tightened his hat down at the dread sound of Bivins. For a mment his hands even shook with rage.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Harvey pummeled his will back to it and continued his march in, thouh he did find it in him to soften his foot falls. Once they got to a table Harvey took off his coat.

"Let's round 'im up and get some food in 'im, or... get him more drunk?"

Harvey figured either way the kid would end up in tears for whatever reason. He shook his head and looked from the drunken Bivins to Montoya.

"What's our game plan here?"

Harvey felt a pair of eyes to his left he looked that direction and spotted a familiar face. He looked back to Montoya with a smug smirk.

"Toldja I know at least one classy lady."

Harvey would give Selina a side ways squeeze.

"Renee Montoya, Selina Kyle, Selina Kyle, Renee Montoya. And you both know Bivins."

Harvey gestured at him with his cigar.

"Anyway, let's think about what the hell we're gonna do with Bivins."

Harvey turned his head to tell a waitress he wanted three shots of tequila, no training wheels, and a pint of red lager. He turned back to the girls.

"Order up, pals."

[Deleted]

She'd been seated further down the bar. A favor had brought her in early, and sadly, she'd never heard worse squalling to the tune of a jukebox. Nursing her beer, she'd been futzing on her phone long enough before she heard the jingle of the door. And there they were. Renee and thankfully; Bullock. Setting the coaster over her glass, she went over to welcome them both, and pointed to an empty table.

Fitting to his side, she smiled, offering her hand to Renee. She'd seen the woman enough times before, and knew Bivins well enough, but it had always been due to work. Tonight? No work, just fun.

And fun they would have.

"Renee. Nice to see you again," she offered, rolling her eyes at the mention of Leo. "He's been at the singing for the past half hour. And I think he's about four inches into his beer. Maybe let him finish that...maybe?"

Disengaging from his side she went to grab her own glass, and ordered another, with a shot or two of her own to be brought to their table. If he was going for the tequila, it was going to be an interesting night for them all. Slipping a cigarette from the silver case she'd lifted off Bullock, she handed it back to him with a smile. "Always prepared, no?"

[Deleted]

Bivins singing voice commonly induced rage in the hearts of civilian and criminal alike, for he knew that criminals were a superviscious and dowery lot, prone to fits of music induced rage. That is not why Bivins sang. He sang because he had music in his heart. The soul! The groove. "IT'S 5 O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE! " he belted like a Catholic father across the face.

He smiled and looked up at the boss and Hottie McHotterpants and smiled stopping midsong, like a puppy returned to purpose after losing their human forever five minutes ago and then having them miraculously return out of love rather than leaving the puppy to die alone in a strange child place that...tangent Bivins...

Anyway he was happy! " Hey boss! Hey Boss's sorta but not quite girlfriend who he still gets a vein in his forehead when I talk about for too long. Montoya just bet me that I couldn't find karaoke here! Wait! That didn't happen! Montoya, wanna bet that I can't find karaoke here? I'll bet you a beer! Wait, fuck, my beer! " he walks to his beer makes a face and drinks a sip.

"Yeah, that's certainly a beer...why did I order PBR?" He shakes his head. " So what's up?"

A new song comes on the jukebox, the crooning sounds of Waylon Jennings. " Oh Hell! This is my jam! " he stands up and then stops..." no wait, it isn't. I thought this was something else...um how you doin? "

[Deleted]

Montoya tilts her head a little when Harvey 'introduces' her, but takes it in stride as a joke. It IS a little odd that the two ladies in Bullock's life have never spent all that much time in each others' company... This isn't the first time Renée's been formally introduced to her, but it feels like a stronger one than before.

She inclines her head a little, and replies, "Miss Ky- Selina," remembering at the last minute that Miss Kyle prefers her first name. It feels a little weird, tastes a little odd in her mouth. But maybe that's just because Selina Kyle feels more like a lady than almost anyone Renée knows. She doesn't exactly feel they're on the same level, even given her closeness with Harvey.

Harvey's never given her a straight answer on how they met. "On the job" was the best she'd gotten. 

Some part of her wonders if she should be staying sober or something, but she discards the idea almost as soon as it crosses her mind. Not after a shift like this. Besides, they were walking and nobody asked. She gives the bar a cursory glance as Bullock orders... He goes for the heavy start. She follows suit, in her own fashion. "Godfather," she calls out to the bar.  The place is more or less empty aside from their group, so she doesn't feel bad calling across it... The only thing she considers is specifying how much scotch, but again decides against it.

She's feeling a little quiet. Maybe because of the shift she's just come off. Maybe because of Miss Kyle. Maybe because of the rumors trickling around Miss Kyle and Harvey. There's definitely something there. But she's never seen them drink together.

As happens so often, Bivins punctures her shield of quietness by being impossible to ignore.

When he walks away to grab his beer, a smiling Renée Montoya, eyebrows arched, whispers "Pabst? Four inches of Pabst Blue Ribbon and he's already this far gone?"

She's the first to clap him on the shoulder when he gets back, not even waiting for the others to come up with a decent plan before she pipes up. "Okay, enough of that shit, rookie. I'm going to order you a real drink..." Guiding the beer away from him, towards Harvey, she looks up at the bartender. "This man's gonna need an A.M.F. straight up... And let's soften him up first with a couple PB&J shots, yeah?" 

Montoya knows Bivins well enough to know that a shot that tastes like peanut butter and jelly is going to attract Bivins' attention. And she's hoping that once those are down the hatch, he'll be reckless enough to actually trust the bright blue monster of a drink she has planned for him. An Adios Mother Fucker is harder than a Long Island Iced Tea and just as sneaky about it. 

She sits back, satisfied. Okay, NOW she's feeling playful. "Don't worry, Detective. This is going to be fun." She gives Selina a wink, and purposefully doesn't meet Bullock's gaze until she responds. 

[Deleted]

Harvey was about to make a snarky comment at Bivins' expense when he was coming back, but soon Renee was ordering up some shots and drinks. He didn't hesitate to take Bivins' beer and chug it down. After he whipped his head and a scowl was across his face.

"God, why would anyone drink this? And how could anyone get drunk on this, ugh."

Harvey set the pint glass down and hoped the tequila and lager would come soon because he needed to get the taste of terrible out of his mouth.

"Oh shut up, Bivins, you don't know Waylon Jennings. As a matter of fact, I'll be right back, ladies."

Harvey set his coat on his seat and then shook his suit jacket off, too. He checked for his money clip in his right pant pocket and headed over to the jukebox. Once he got to the jukebox he hooked his right thumb under his suspenders as he began to browse the selection with his left hand.

[Deleted]

If she was glad for one thing, it was the fact she had alcohol already in her system from watching Bivins. Survelance, or something. Whatever. It was really, really cheap, and bad entertainment. So when the other two arrived she was excited. She even laughed a bit at Bivin's verbal diatribe. Winking at Renee, she politely ignores the slipup. Everyone always thinks she's some fancy society gal. So when Renee asks her about the beer, she slaps on a straight face and nods. "He's a lightweight. Badly."

It's when she is headed back to the bar for her own things when a large tray of assorted lagers, shots, and something blue is given to her. Nothing she can't handle as she makes her way to the table and sets the tray down, drinks doled out. The shots she just sort of clusters together for now, before grabbing his red ale, and her own. His silver cigarette case is in hand as well, two shots of she's assuming are tequila as she makes her way to the music box.

"These are yours," she starts, handing over his beer, and case. "And don't play anything dumb. Renee and Leo are here." She adds quietly, hoping he has a light on him. Normally she'd just go for it herself, but...coworkers. He's looking snazzy in his suspenders as she snaps one of them, before leaning against the wall and watching Bivins. She'd came from the office, but her attire is a bit different. Jeans, knee-high boots and a nice blouse. Casual, not too buttoned up.

[Deleted]

Bivins looked shocked, amazed, awed by the wonder of the PBJ shot. "What is this thing?" He sniffs it and whips out his cellphone to look it up. "Chambord and Frangelico! I feel like no less of a man for drinking this sort of drink!" He lifts one up and takes a shot, coughing a bit and swallowing it down as he blinks and then clutches onto the bar. He smiles like a madman, holy crap it tastes like Peanutbutter and Jelly! What black magickery is this magic! It's like kissing Kindergarten and having it give you a hummer. 

He grinned as he shouted out at Bullock "What are you talking about? Of course I know Waylon Jennings. . .he's the one that keeps getting in trouble for pot smoking. .. um. . . and is laid back with his mind on his money and his money on his mind!"

He smiles at Selina and says "I'm not a lightweight, I just happen to be high energy and enjoy the simpler pleasures of life and happen to have an inner ear problem that makes the room spin and natural nausea that will display itself later in fascinating new ways!" He's really trying hard not to stare at her breasts, although he seems to be doing that by keeping his eyes on her cleavage. Crisis Averted! Point to Leo F. Bivins! "You got a key on that necklace of yours" he says out of nowhere.

He looks at Montoya as Selina walks away. " Why don't you walk like that? I can't walk like that, I'd break something. You never walk like that." 

[Deleted]

Renée settles back into her seat, having risen to help with the tray at the last second, just as Bivins downs his first shot. The kid's in rare form tonight, actually. She's not sure she's ever seen him quite so... Hyperactive. It's not out of character for him, it just seems amplified.

Hell, if she didn't know better, she'd think he was just acting the way he thinks drunk people in bars are supposed to act.

And she doesn't know better. That wouldn't even be that odd for Bivins.

Her Godfather is the loneliest drink on the bar, in its little old-fashioned glass. She takes a decent swig of it- It kicks and burns and sizzles in her throat before the smokiness of the scotch gives way to the sweet fruitiness of the amaretto- and watches the kid babble for a moment... Or listens, anyway. Her eyes are on Selina after a few seconds, gauging her reaction to it.

When Selina scoops up Harvey's drinks and walks off towards the jukebox, Renée's eyes and jaw drop for a moment. It's THAT kind of walk. A sway in her step, a rise in the chest. A more sensual touch to her usual feline grace. 

Maybe it's the casual atmosphere. Maybe it's the half-empty glass Selina just picked up from the bar, or what used to be in it. It's a subtle little difference, and most wouldn't know what had changed... But Renée thinks anyone would have to be aware of it. There's just an extra little bit of purr in her step. 

It doesn't take her too long to figure out why. Not when she sees the glint off the silver cigarette case.

Renée regains her composure around another slug of the drink, just as Selina gets to Bullock and Bivins comments on her walk. She shoots a pointed look at Bivins, under a quirked eyebrow, and nods to the little smile on Selina's face when she speaks. 

"Because, detective," she starts, lips shielded from the jukebox's direction by her glass, pausing only for the briefest moment while a delicate thumb snaps a suspender... "Because you've never seen me try to attract somebody."

She takes a slow sip of the drink, letting the burn in her throat stabilize her while she tries to read Harvey's expression. Then, glancing over to one side, she says, "Unless that's a comment on my figure, in which case, fuck you." 

[Deleted]

Harvey's heart was a flutter when he got to look music over, then again, it wasn't the elaborate selection he had at home, so it wasn't as awe inspiring, but still good. He noted there was a decent amount of country, something he didn't necessarily go for, but respected well enough. When Selina caught up to him he gave her a look. Then she snapped his suspenders. He growled and retaliated by pulling her to him like he was going to do something all awesome like kiss her but then.

SNAP

He snickered at the sound of her bra snapping against her back under that dress. He plucked his cigarette case from her, expecting she'd find that lighter in his pocket. He placed a cigarette in his lips and looked at her expectantly to light it. He spent enough flicks on lighting the cigarettes of many a lady, he figured one could finally light his.

He turned his attention back to the juke box while Selina leaned against the wall. He selected a few things, and after that Waylon Jennings song ended a Smiths song came up next.  He looked over to her for a moment after it came on.  He swore he wasn't thinking of her when he picked it.  He looked back to the jukebox and spent the last of his credits before turning to Selina again.  He looked at his tequila.

"Let's take this with Renee.  C'mon."

Harvey picked up the beer and shot and then offered his arm to Selina.

"Escort me back, ma'am?"

[Deleted]

She hadn't expected that, a half-delighted, half-scared squeal coming from her as she was pulled close. Too close. And then damn. That hurt. "You're a bastard," she griped. She'd deserved it. Tit for tat. Considering she already had her own unlit cigarette, she eyeballs him. Whatever. Coworkers are like family, right?

Her hand slips into his pocket as she finds his zippo. And his money clip, both removed with ease. "You're turning the tables here," she murmured as the song kicks in. So he'd half-listened. Kinda. "C'mere. Let me light for you." It's a flick of the wheel, and his cigarette is lit, as she then moves to light her own smoke off the cherry-red end of his. He hadn't backed up, and neither had she, the distance between them barely anything. She can catch the faint whiff of his cigars. 

Raising a brow as she meets his eye over the music, she gives him a wink. She's already a good beer ahead of them, and knows it's going to be a good night. "Of course, good Sir. I sure know I'm safe on the arm of a big strong man like you." Her arm linked with his as they made their way back to the table, liquor in hand, ready for their first round of many.

[Deleted]

Bivins watched the two of them for a while as he said "Whatcha talking about? I saw you with that one guy ... oh, right." He considers Montoya for a moment, and then shrugs "Well, you ain't BAD, but you ain't that." He smirks a bit as he knocks back another PB&J shot, placing the glass on the table. He smiles a bit and lets it settle in as he closes his eyes for a moment, slinking back into the chair, leaning with his back against the bar and then ordering another three of the damned things.

He knocks back another one, then another one, then a water, kicking them back in quick succession, smiling like an idiot. "Did he just bra snap her and she groped him? Crap, they slept together at some point in the past and are rekindling an old relationship, but are plagued by doubts brought on by their own shared yet mysterious past even though they'll deny everything because they can't admit their feelings fully to themselves let alone others because of a strange combination of psychological traumas, personality conflicts with the world, emotional loss and difficulty admitting to themselves what everyone else can see clearly. Otherwise she would have just set him on fire right now like the time I tried to . . . Oooh, what's this? The AMC you ordered?. . . either that or he just picked lint off of her and missed and she gave him a wedgie that went wrong." 

The Adios Motherfucker was finally served, Bivins took a sniff of it and then started to drink it saying "L'Chaim!" A masive cough, a swallow, and then a grasp of the water. "I like it. . . " He tries again, choking a bit more of the drink down. He's really trying to pound it. 

He gets quiet after a bit, listening to the music. Listening to the conversation. "So. . . " Bivins said quietly "Does it get easier? You know, the thing?" His face looked a little serious for a moment, he's quiet for a change. And it's clear to Montoya what's on his mind. Flashes of brown drawings on the wall made of that strange amalgamation of blood and feces that for some reason the MCU knows from sight after a while. The ungodly smells in that house, the carpet moist with what Bivins tried to say was water, but everyone knew wasn't . . . the fluids, the house was moist with them . . . the face of the 7 year old, still breathing but with dead eyes, playing with the chewed up jerky that was once one of her limbs like a rattle. . . and then the collection in the closet of the master bedroom that made Bivins finally run out and throw up . . . Bivins took another drink from the AMF. "Is that just . . . part of the job now? Another day at the office?"

[Deleted]

There's an eyeroll at first, but no reply. Pah. If he had any idea... A bitter little part of her is proud of herself. Feels like she catches herself ogling all the damn time, little glances that linger, an eternity in a second and a half, shielded by a sudden blink and a jerky shift of the eye. She's known for a long damn time that civilian folk- hell, even uniforms- never notice it; she's good enough to fool them, at least. It just comes as a shock that she's good enough to fool detectives. People with training. Even ones who see the right answer in a goddamn snap like Bivins.

He doesn't know. How could he not? She can't imagine not knowing who someone's attracted to, just from the way they stand, the way they look, the way their breath quickens and slows... But who knows? She could be missing things left and right. Would she even know to look? Could she recognize the signs of someone hiding something so basic about themselves?

Good question.

All of this worms its way through her mind during a long, slow sip. The amaretto blossoms in her mouth, and all at once, it's almost too cloying. She focuses on the taste of the alcohol to snap her back. 

And she doesn't say a word until Bivins speaks again.

Thoughts of her own secrets took a long, slow sip to parse. The images, the smells, the sheer gutcurdling horror of the closet girl case... Every bit of it flashes into her mind, floods it, in a fraction of a second. Like it's inescapable. Like it's right there, never more than an inch away. Like you have to keep yourself from breathing to feel it, and the instant you give in, you're there again, in that room, viewing something worse than you could ever think possible.

A little girl with ribs shoving out of a distended tummy, like a balloon that looked about to pop. Eight years old and as small as a toddler. Smeared with her own waste and blood, hands scarred from clawing and scrabbling at the door of a locked closet for years... years ago. Hand wounds scarred over because at some point, she stopped trying, because there wasn't any goddamn point. 

Swollen pudenda, fresh redness all over them. And there was no goddamn chance the scumfucker of a D.A. was going to pursue a rape charge without subjecting that burnt matchstick of a girl to the witness' stand. Sitting across from the monsters that did this to her.

Fuck, it wasn't even a freak. It was a skel. Not even that, it was a damn welfare queen. The word spits its way through her brain. Renée's never used it before. She's hated it since she's heard it. Too many of her childhood friends would have starved in the streets if not for food-stamps and government housing. Life is a human right. But that woman... That woman who did what she did... Renée doesn't want to- no, instinctively recoils from calling her a human being. 

And that's the wrong instinct. 

"... Yeah." She lowers the glass and leans against the bar. No, she doesn't look him in the eye. She stares off into space, eyes unfocused. "Yeah, it's... just another day on the job. Has to be."

Her brow furrows and knots. "It's... This is Gotham, Leo. That whole situation, the whole... thing. It's Gotham. It's what Gotham does. 'S what it's always been. Everybody talks about the crimelords and the mob and the freaks, but... that ain't a complete end-all description." She swallows. Hard.

"It's people, Leo. Deep down, we're all just people. Some of them are better organized. Some of them are powerful. Some of them look at crime and just fall in love with the fuckin' idea of breaking the law. It's no coincidence that the Bat lives in this town. But when there's people like this, who are just... people who hurt people...People who turn blind to what kind of pain they're putting an innocent through... Fuck it to hell."

That last bit is said as she violently lifts her glass and downs the last of it in a single gulp. She hisses at the burn that floods her mouth and throat and tingles all the way into her sinuses. The glass in her hand is shaking. Must be. Because it couldn't be her hand that's doing it. It can't be. It can't be.

"When it comes to people like that, Bivs, we're all there is. All that little girl's got, and a million like her besides. First, last, and only defense, full stop. So... It's gotta be another day on the job. You've got to let it go and store it away somewhere, because tomorrow there's another fifty like her to track down. And we're the only help they've got. So... You bottle it up and keep going."

She turns her attention over to him. "You crawl into a bottle sometimes, too. And you spend what time you've got not thinking about it. Grooving to whatever Bullock's got on the jukebox." With that, she puts her glass down with an air of finality like the final grain of sand in a nice, big hourglass, landing so hard as to crater the little pile of grains beneath it. "Rule one, rookie. Quickest way for a cop to get killed in Gotham City is to forget to live a life outside the job."

[Deleted]

Once they returned Harvey set his shot of tequila before him and moved the other two in front of Selina and Renee.

"Alright, ladies, time to grow some hair on those beautiful chests of yours."

Harvey held his up to them, pulling his cigarette from his mouth after setting his beer down.

"To Bivins, he can't hold his liquor for shit."

Once shot glasses clinked he put his down, tapping it on the table top and then knocked it back. No salt, no lime, just the finest mexican agave, baby.

Harvey waved to the waitress.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need at least six or nine more of these, thanks."

Harvey guzzled some of his beer down and looked over to Bivins and Montoya.

"Whaddaya two talkin' 'bout? Hmm? Bivins, how them shots Montoya ordered up for ya doin on ya?"