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The rain came down in gray sheets, wind twisting and turning the droplets under the streetlights into hurried renditions of “Starry Night” in the darkness of the street. It pinged and drummed on the windows of the stores, steadily growing to a roar.
Theo watched the yellow lights swirl and disort through the rain-splattered bar window, idly wiping an already-clean glass. Mumford & Sons played softly on the bars jukebox, nearly drowned out by the outside’s drone.
Few patrons were left now, at this hour. Just a handful of locals- or near locals- nursing their drinks of choice. Boris had gotten out of the office, Theo noted, even if he had brought the paperwork with him. One of the “Jagerboys” sat alone in a corner table, uncharacteristically gloomy, leaning his head on his prosthetic as he stared into his stout.
Theo sighed and put the polished glass down on the cherrywood bar, and considered taking a break to play with the stained glass array of alcohol on the shelves behind him.
He had gotten halfway to the cocktail shaker until he realized he had noone to drink it with. He bit his lip in annoyance, running his tongue over the double silver piercings, and contemplated the possibility of a new tattoo.
The door opened, letting in a cold blast of wind and water and a single soaked figure. The figure shook themself off, tossing the useless umbrella to the side before heading straight to the bar.
“Honey,” said Sleipnir, flipping back the poncho’s hood. “Something strong, would you?” She shivered. “And warm.” She looked up at Theo’s waiting grin and rolled her eyes a little. “And exotic, of course.”
Theo’s peirced smile widened to a full-out beam. “Coming right up, my Lady of the Lake,” he said as he turned to choose from the rainbow of liquor behind him.
Sleipnir wiped a wet strand of hair out of her face, and stuck her tongue out at him.
“Dork.”
“Dearest.”
Deft fingers picked out an amber-colored liquid from the shelf, poured a good amount of it into the shaker and scooped up several more bottles.
“Another long night with the Castle?” Theo asked, taking a cork out with his teeth.
“The fucking thing makes no sense.” Her smile faltered. “How they ever made that thing work with punchcards I will never know.” She thought for a moment. “No, how they ever made that thing, period, I will never know.”
Theo nodded solemnly and handed her a glass full of orange liquid, a gaudy paper umbrella spearing a small red pepper in place.
“Sentient computers from the seventies. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em, eh?”
“Actually, it might be even older than that,” said Sleipnir, taking a sip of her drink. Tropical, yet homey and spicy. “Mhmm. That’s good.”
“Always is,” said Theo, leaning on the bar. “Older? I might have to come down and take a look myself.”
“You’d be a great help. Wiring and stuff. Your specialty.”
“Not my only specialty.” Theo lowered his voice. “I’m known to be especially adept with…” Theo winked seductively. “Vaginas.”
Sleipnir gently swatted him. “Dork.”
“You love me for it.”
“That I do,” Sleipnir said. “But seriously, about the Castle. You should come.”
Theo pressed a spare paper umbrella to his lips in mock-thought. “This will take much deliberating. And delegating. And dallying. And-“
“Theo.”
“Of course I will! I’d love to! Are you kidding?” Theo planted a kiss on Sleipnir’s forehead. “You’re the best wife I could ever dream of, you know.”
Sleipnir caught him by the neck and pulled him down, over the bar, to her lips.
“I love you too,” she whispered, and their lips met.
It was not a particularly long kiss, nor was it particularly innovative- just a meeting of lips and a little tongue- but it left them both breathless and grinning.
“How fast can you clear the bar?” Sleipnir whispered.
“Pretty damn fast.”
“I’ll be upstairs,” said Sleipnir and kissed his piercings. “Damn right your specialty is with vaginas.”