Lazy Lizzie

Thirty-Two

Exiting the station, after hours of answering questions, the first thing she saw was the Lair, parked across the street. Probably brought by her text, I'm at the police station. Had to see Dale.

Leo was awake, watching TV. He jumped out of the bed, in the grey sweatpants he liked to sleep in, set with his cloud printed t-shirt.

"They kept you a while," he said. Because of her second message, I'm telling the police about him.

"They were very interested once I got to his bulletproof vest. Custom made, just in case," Lizzie imitated Dale. "With matching holsters and extra bullet pockets."

"Better, now?" 

He kissed her on the cheek as he passed her to reach the cupboards, for their usual packaged soup dinner. Only adding water was needed.

"Not better. But relieved."

The smell of artificial condiments reminded Lizzie she hadn't eaten since that morning. She sat down on the foldable chair, Leo leaned against the wall, cup in his hand. 

"Look, I'm not going further," he said. "At least for a few months, but I understand if you rather be anywhere else than where Dale is. It doesn't have to be the end of the world."

"He might go to federal prison," Lizzie avoided thinking about the rest of Leo's words, especially since not being dramatic was the least of her concerns. If anything, she wished she was more dramatic. "He's not a factor."

"Then... what do you want to do?" Leo asked -- as if it was a question he didn't already know the answer to. He was busy mixing the soup with a spoon, and Lizzie thought about what to answer. Everything she had to do was behind her, in Warsa Park. What she needed to do ended with Dale. What she wanted to do was something Lizzie hadn't thought about, in many years. 

"I could stay longer," she decided, looking down in her cup. It wasn't a lot, what she was giving.

The soup sizzled against the metallic bowls, it needed some time to let it cool down. She reached for Leo, to help her get up, which he did, then left the wall he was leaning on to hunch under the one-inch-too-low-for-him roof of the kitchenette. 

She kept his hand longer to make him look down to her so that when she closed her eyes he'd knew to lean in and kiss her, which he did, almost automatically. His lips pressed hard on hers, making her realize she was pushing into him without opening her mouth because she wanted to feel more of his body. 

His arms went around her, accepting her attempt at closeness. Thankful, Lizzie exhaled with her eyes closed, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Vic called. He's pissed. Dale won't get out of this one," he said. "His suicidal defense will get him killed. I can't believe he had a plan involving intentionally crashing his car into something. The Chicken Turtle?!"

Leo rolled his eyes. Lizzie had to tell him, "I also have a similar escape plan. It's called The Barracuda."

He laughed, "Oh no."

"Oh yes," she smiled back. "It's basically just letting the other do whatever they want until they leave. They get bored, eventually. A passive defense."

He shook his head, then had a realisation, "Do you know anything about the barracuda? It's anything but passive! It's a vicious predator!"

Lizzie didn't care, "It's a fish! What can a fish do?!"

At that, Leo was left with no answer.

"I'm going to have to get a job," Lizzie separated herself from him, apologizing with one peck on his harsh cheek, he'd have to shave for the interview. She grabbed the hem of her dress.

"Too bad my favorite career is no longer an option," she took it off, needing only one expert move. "Dale made sure of that." It was why he did it: so that she could never go back to work.

He leaned back to see her better, "Dancing?"

"Yes. There's not a lot of places scars are considered sexy," Lizzie joked.

"How big of an audience you need?" Leo grinned. "I can be a very enthusiastic party of one. Never been to a strip club," he boasted. "Literally there's no competition. You could be the worst stripper ever," he mocked her. "Maybe I can get more people if that's what you like about it," he teased her. "Put up a sign up on the trailer. Make some easy money."

Lizzie fake-pouted as he pulled her into his arms. "I can see it now, Lizzie under a hot tin roof!"

"Stop talking!" she put her mouth over his. He kissed her back, leaning to invite her to climb him, which she did. This time, they would not be interrupted again.

They were home.

THE END