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“Can I ask you something?”
Louisa looked at him skeptically. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Christ, River, just ask whatever it is you're going to ask.”
They’d met up at a pub, far the fuck away from Slough House, since Louisa could smell it (Lamb) from blocks away, and she always wanted to lower the chance to run into anyone from Slough House, because why the fuck would she want to run into them? Except River, she supposed. Despite happily going into private security, there was something that she missed about the idiot. Probably the knowledge that however badly her day was going, his was always going worse. It definitely wasn’t that they were friends. (It was. She just hated admitting it. Felt bad for her ego, or something.)
To his credit, River didn’t seem beaten, bloodied, or bruised, at the moment. At least not that she could tell. It was weeks after the last Slough House debacle- not that it was advertised that Lamb and his island of misfit toys was involved with the shooting and the… penguins. Louisa still didn’t really understand that part, and she felt that it would keep the magic alive if she never did.
River’s lips pressed into a thin line and he wrinkled his nose, the way he sometimes did when he knew he was about to say something that Lamb would call him “a fucking muppet” for.
“Am I asexual?”
Louisa had picked a poor time to take a swig of her beer. By the time she recovered, River had scrunched his face even further in that self-depricating way of his that perfectly portrayed how much he was internally cringing. (At that moment, Louisa realized she missed his absolute lack of a poker face when outside life or death situations.)
“That bad, am I?”
Louisa waved her beer at him. “No, wait. What does that even fucking mean?”
“Never mind. Just something Shirley said.”
“Well stop there. I'd barely listen to anything Shirley says, that's the person who waterboards herself for fun-”
“-wait, what?”
“So she called you asexual? Like some kind of sea sponge or something? Or are you coming out? Because I mean, if that's true, I mean, good on you.”
"No, I'm not- I'm not identifying as that, I'm-" River closed his eyes, clearly gathering his strength. “We were at a club-”
“You and Shirley? Were at a club? Together? Thank God you didn't invite me.”
“-well we were watching Roddy, who was being honeytrapped at the time-” Louisa gagged, almost wanting to ask for more details- actually no, no she did not want more details (surely this had to be a separate incident from the penguins). River seemed to roll his eyes, despite them being still shut, and he continued on. “And she said that no one was probably checking me out because I was, quite, profoundly asexual. Endquote.” Louisa held her breath, keeping in the laugh that was trying to eke it's way up her throat, staying silent long enough for River to open his eyes again. He winced when he saw her expression. “Wow. Right.”
“No-”
‘Its fine, forget I said anything-”
“Its just that that was a lot of information at once-”
“Louisa-”
“Are you asking me if you have sex appeal?”
He winced again. “I said forget it-” He met her eyes, than seemed to regret it. “Maybe? No. Yes.”
“Well which is it? Or are you trying to tell me you’re a sea sponge? I know multiple people who would agree that you are, in fact, a brainless, spineless sea creature that oozes-” As she spoke, River adopted that long-suffering thousand yard stare of his, taking long, deep gulps of his drink. “Fine, fine. So are you?”
He swallowed, put his beer down. “Am I what? A sea sponge?”
“Asking me if you have sex appeal.”
“Fine. Fine. Yes. And for the record, I’m regretting it, so feel free to not answer the question and also forget it. Seriously.” He wiped his hands on his pants, rubbing at his thighs.
Louisa stared at him, taking him in. She could tell he was thinking about that moment that they had- he had?- that she had quite successfully repressed, until right about now. She wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole, all the benefit to him. If she’d brought it up right here and now, he’d probably step into traffic.
“You have a…” she gestured to him, and the idiot looked down. She sighed. “Kind of kicked puppy vibe about you.” His face slackened in defeat and Louisa kept in a laugh. “Not in an- in an unsexy way? Well, it’s not a- not something that I’m interested in, but I’m sure at least some woman or man or otherwise identifying person is interested in that kind of vibe.”
“The kicked puppy vibe,” River repeated, blandly. He huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “Well, that settles it. I’m going to die alone.”
“I don’t know about that,” Louisa said, and for a brief second there was a flicker of hope in his eyes, the poor sucker, and it almost made her feel bad. “You could hang around the animal shelter until someone picks you up and takes you home.”
He sagged, but he raised his glass to her sarcastically. “Fuck you, Guy.”
She winked at him. “Right back at you, Cartwright.” She took a drink. "I'd still get platonic drinks with you, if you were asexual, for the record."
If he was disappointed by "platonic", he made no indication. "In a sea sponge way?"
"The other way." She shrugged. "Though if you were secretly a sea sponge, I wouldn't be surprised."
He grumbled into his beer. "Dickhead."
She laughed. "What a good little sea sponge you would make."