Chapter Text
Elizabeth Keen approached the park bench warily. Why Reddington insisted on in-person meet-ups for a conversation that could just as well take place over the phone she'd never understand. And why he insisted he'd only speak to her- that was another mystery. But she wanted the intel, so here she was. She spotted Dembe standing nearby and felt a small sense of relief at his presence. Not that she expected anything nefarious on Reddington's end, but she knew the types of people he surrounded himself with, and she knew that any occasion was a good one for an ambush.
Red spotted her walking towards him and stood up, in the way he always seemed to (and why was that? She allowed herself to wonder, briefly, without coming to any real conclusion). His face had lit up, she noticed, as if he truly had been looking forward to seeing her. Hmm.
"Good morning, Lizzie," he said, smiling, not sitting back down until she had.
"Morning Reddington." He could sense that she was suspicious, which seemed to be her default mood of late.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet me here. I wanted to enjoy the fresh morning air. There's nothing quite like it, is there?"
"I guess not," she agreed, because it was simpler than trying to disagree. She glanced over at Dembe. "So what's the information you needed me to come here and meet you for? Something related to the case?"
But Red was getting up again from the bench, having noticed a nearby ice cream cart and now overcome with the idea of getting some for all three of them.
"All in good time, Lizzie," he was saying, gesturing to Dembe to join him at the cart. "I haven't had one of these in decades," he mused, after selecting an orange cream bar for himself. Dembe asked for an ice cream sandwich. Red looked expectantly at Elizabeth. "What's your pick, Lizzie? It's my treat."
She realized he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "I guess a vanilla cone," she said, and "Thank you," when the vendor handed one to her.
Red was astounded by her choice. "All these options and you went with a vanilla cone!”
She shrugged. "What can I say, I know what I like." This prompted a curious look from him, and what could that mean? She wondered. She took a quick taste - it was better than she expected.
Red waved her over. "Do you want to go for a walk, Lizzie? We can enjoy these treats and the fresh air, while getting some exercise."
She considered. If they walked and talked, she might be able to get out of there sooner. "Sure."
He looked delighted, and she felt surprised that she could make him look that way with such a simple statement. Sure. She'd never figure him out.
"So?" She prompted.
"So what, Lizzie?"
"So… the information? The reason you asked me to meet you here?" God, talking to him could be infuriatingly circular.
"Ah. Well." He took a bite of his orange bar. "I have to confess, I actually just invited you here in hopes we could enjoy each other's company. It was such a beautiful morning, and I figured you might not have anyone to enjoy it with… nor did I, and…" here he trailed off, taking a sideways glance in her direction as if to check her reaction. He hoped he hadn't made an error in judgement. "The ice cream's good, right?"
She was regarding him thoughtfully. Her first instinct was to be furious, that he'd brought her all the way out here for, for ice cream? And presumed that she didn't have anyone to enjoy the fresh air with? But then she paused. It was true: she didn't have anyone to enjoy this nice weather with. And she actually really liked ice cream. Was it so terrible to take a walk on a beautiful day and eat some ice cream? Even if it was with a surprising partner?
He was still waiting for her answer, so she smiled. "It's actually delicious. Thank you." That wasn't so hard, was it? She told herself. Being nice to people. Not expecting them to turn around and screw you over the first chance they got. Trusting.
"You didn't have any criminal empires to build this morning, then?" She teased, finding it easier to default to humour than to think too hard about what it meant, his inviting her here.
"Not a one," he returned, easily. "I try to schedule that type of thing for later in the day, anyway."
They walked a bit further, enjoying their ice cream and the warm breeze, Dembe trailing a few metres behind.
"Well Lizzie," Red began, wanting to take advantage of this opportunity to draw her into conversation, "I must say it's quite pleasant, walking together like this, without criminal empires and Blacklisters."
She shot him a look. "Is it?" She would have agreed, but wanted to hear what else he had to add, first.
"Quite. I'd be tempted to ask you to make it a recurring date. If you're agreeable, that is." He sounded hopeful. She considered. Was she agreeable? She certainly didn't have any better plans. Her mornings usually consisted of instant coffee and a toaster waffle or two. He seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, which was more than she could say for- well, for most anyone else, at this point.
"Sure. I mean: yes. I'd be agreeable," she replied.
He looked so pleased at her answer, it made her slightly self conscious. She wasn't used to having that affect on people.
"So," she said, attempting to make the situation feel less awkward. "Should we choose a topic of conversation other than Blacklisters, or is this strictly a walk and eat type of situation?"
He considered her seriously. "What would you talk about, Lizzie, if you were just walking with a friend?" Hoping she wouldn't mind him using that word.
She raised an eyebrow. A friend? She could hardly imagine. "I don't know, maybe we'd chat about movies or something. Seen anything good lately?"
"I'm a huge fan of Hitchcock," he replied, and she grinned.
"I was thinking of something maybe from the last… decade or so?"
He considered this. "Hitchcock is classic, Lizzie. Timeless."
She nodded, teasingly. "Sure, Red."
He always enjoyed hearing her call him Red: slightly less formal and more familiar than the usual Reddington. Not as intimate as his name: Raymond. For his part he always thought of her as Lizzie, and she seemed not to mind.
"How about books," she suggested. "Friends talk about books they've enjoyed. Read anything interesting?"
"I usually gravitate towards nonfiction," he told her. "Right now I'm reading the history of world war one aircraft."
Of course he was. She gave him another look. "I'm reading a James Patterson thriller," she admitted. "I find them strangely comforting." A pause. "What is it about world war one planes, in particular?"
He glanced over to see if she was teasing, but she appeared genuinely interested. "I don't know what it is, really," he said, "But I was fascinated with them as a boy. The construction was incredible for its time."
"I've never thought twice about airplane construction," she said. "Other than to hope they're safe when I get on one."
"They're safer than cars."
"Oh I know that in theory," she said. "There's just something about being up in the air that feels…"
"Different?" He suggested.
She nodded, pleased that he'd understood. (But didn't he always?) "Different."
They'd reached another bench and he gestured toward it with an inquiring look. She took a seat, and so did he. Dembe remained nearby.
"Well." She gestured to her watch, noticing with surprise how long they'd been out walking. "I do have to head to work at some point this morning."
He looked… wistful? "Ah. Yes of course."
"Same time tomorrow?" She said, as casually as she could.
His expression changed, eyes meeting hers. "I'd love that."
"Okay." She stood. "Bye then." And to Dembe, a quick smile and nod, which he returned (his smile seeming… knowing, somehow).
"Goodbye, Lizzie." Reddington sat for a long moment before getting up and gesturing to Dembe. Same time tomorrow. He was already looking forward to it.