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Sole peeked through the door of the abandoned store. No chains of cans blocked her view of the messy room; to her relief, no ferals met her sight, either. Even with no hostiles in view, she was glad to have Nick watching her back. Having a friend with her was a comfort she would never take for granted. She made one last sweep for traps and tripwires, then stepped inside. She hoped the place would yield at least some of the materials she needed.
“Look promising?” Nick said, following her in.
Sole pursed her lips and glanced around.
“Doesn’t seem like it. I was hoping this spot might have been a repair shop, or maybe even an appliance store, but… I guess we might as well take a look.”
“Wouldn’t hurt. What kind of a store was this, anyway?”
“Let’s find out.”
The place once had plenty of mirrors, that much was sure; now only a few of them remained whole enough to be useful. Still, Sole was curious. She picked her way through the debris, making her way to the back room. She shoved a pile of splintered wood away from the door and tried the handle, only to find it locked.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.
“Must be something good to be behind a locked door,” Nick said.
Picking locks had become a necessity, but she was far from confident about it. She plucked a bobby pin from her hair and pried it open. It took her several tries to get it to the right place in the mechanism, and even then, she could hardly tell if she was doing it right. The last thing she wanted to do was waste any time, especially Nick’s. She forced herself to work slow. Getting flustered never helped—though having the detective standing close by didn't do much good for her concentration. On top of that, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to impress him.
After an agonizing minute, the door clicked open.
“Sometimes I think you’re a little too good at that,” Nick said with a chuckle.
She blushed.
“You better watch yourself, Valentine. If you’re not careful, you’ll find out about my master thief alter ego. Then I’d have to kill you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
She edged her way into the room. A hole in one wall let in a bright beam of sunlight. She had expected to find some old bins and crates, perhaps some useful tools, or maybe even nothing at all—finding a storage room with floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked to the brim with round boxes was the last thing she expected to see. She ran her fingers over one of the dusty lids.
“Are these what I think they are?” she said, almost to herself.
Nick took a box from the shelf and opened it. Inside was a black felt hat.
“What do you know?” A smile spread across his features. “I guess this place was a good, old-fashioned haberdashery. Never thought I’d see one of those again.”
Sole brightened at the sight. To find something so pristine in the midst of all the rubble—it almost brought a tear to her eye. She returned his grin.
“Well, go ahead,” she said. “Try it on.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m pretty partial to this one,” he gestured to his own stitched-up fedora.
She tried not to let her disappointment show. She shrugged.
“You’re right. We should probably get going anyway,” she said.
“Hang on now, I never said that. I’ve been thinking for a while you could use something to keep your noggin warm.”
He took the hat and dropped it onto her head. She flinched away.
“Hey, how do you know there aren’t any spiders on it?” she said.
“Do you think we’d have roaches the size of cats if there were still spiders around?”
“Fair point, but still.”
She felt about the brim and the little spray of feathers on the side.
“So—how do I look?”
“Not bad. That one’s a little big, though. Here...”
He searched through more of the boxes until he found a newsboy cap. She stepped back into the mirrored room and put it on.
“Hmm… I think this one makes me look too much like Piper.”
“How about this?” he said with a wry grin, and dropped a stetson on her head.
“Oh, no, no, no,” she laughed. “Absolutely not. I’ll trade you, though.”
She snatched his fedora and replaced it with the stetson.
“Hey!”
“Ha, how you like them apples?” she said.
He paused a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Then he rocked back onto his heels and looped his thumbs around his suspenders.
“I say I like ’em just fine and dandy,” he said, feigning a western accent.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Not a thing, ma’am.”
“Stop it, that’s weird,” she said, struggling to hold back her laughter.
His eyes glowed with a mischievous look. He sauntered closer and tipped his hat.
“Howdy,” he said.
That was more than she could stand; she doubled over in a fit of giggles. A few minutes passed before she could collect herself. At last she steadied her breathing and said,
“Alright mister, two can play at that game.”
“Is that so?” he scoffed.
She put on his fedora and squared her shoulders.
“Looky here, I’m Nick, see?” she said. “I find the missing people and I smoke the cigarettes. You want some sass? Too bad, you’re getting some.”
“That is not what I sound like. And for the record it’s called wit, not sass.”
In spite of his protests, he wore a smirk that refused to go away. He stole back his hat.
“Wit, sass, whatever,” Sole said, dipping back into the storage room. She emerged with a deer-stalker. “Maybe this one’s more to your liking, eh, detective?”
“Heh. No thanks, Watson.”
She disappeared again and returned wearing a short-crown top hat.
“Ev’ning, gov,” she said.
“If you think I’m going to yank you out of a chimney, you’ve got another thing coming.”
She went into the room and came back wearing an elaborate fascinator, its veil tugged low across her face. She pressed her wrist to her brow in a dainty fashion and sighed dramatically.
“You must help me, Mr. Valentine. I’m in a state, oh, simply a state! I don’t know what to do!”
He stifled a laugh.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“Um…” she thought for a moment. “Oh! My butler has run off with my maid, and they’ve taken my pearls with them!”
“So you’d like me to recover those pearls.”
“No, I want you to find that two-bit butler.”
“Why the butler?”
“Because…” she draped herself against the wall. “He’s my lover!”
He snorted a laugh.
“In that case, there’s only one thing you can do,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Get better taste in men.”
She laughed and threw herself into his arms.
“Like a big, strong detective, perhaps?”
They laughed together for a moment. Suddenly his chuckle faded away. His expression fell to something unreadable. All the humor in his voice disappeared.
“A dame like you doesn’t want to get tied up with a guy like me,” he murmured.
She fell silent, unsure if he was still playing the part. Something in his tone gave her pause. But her brain was too scattered to come up with a witty response; all she could think about was how close they were now, how his arm wound around her shoulders, how his hand pressed her middle back. Her heart pounded.
“You don’t seem like the dangerous type,” she said. She smoothed her fingers over his tie. Before she could stop herself, she added, “As a matter of fact, I’ve never felt safer.”
His eyes traced over her, lingering on her lips.
“Maybe you’re the dangerous one.”
He drew her closer. Sole’s heart beat so fast that the blood roared in her ears. He reached a hand toward her face, and her mind raced—what was he doing? What was his plan? A hundred possibilities flashed through her mind. She wanted all of them.
He hesitated, then took one of the hat’s decorations between his fingers.
“These feathers—I think they’re a bit much,” he said. “I mean, how are you going to shoot with these things getting in your eyes?”
He stood her upright and reached past her to take another hat from the shelf, a black bowler this time.
“Give this one a try.”
Her hands shook as she removed the fascinator. He put the bowler in its place.
“What do you think?” she said.
“Not bad,” he said. “Yeah, not bad at all.”
“Alright. Let’s get out of here.”
“Don’t you want to see it for yourself?”
“If you think it looks good, that’s more than enough for me,” she was careful not to meet his eyes. “Besides, I still have materials to find.”
She strode out of the abandoned shop. She didn’t think to check the street for hostiles first; her mind was still reeling from the encounter.
It was getting harder and harder to pretend that she didn’t want to be anything more than friends.