Chapter 2
Defeated.
At her wits end.
Sad
That was the only way Carla could describe the woman that was giving Atlas a run for his money in the chair next to her.
“How are you?”
The detective stared vacantly at the end of their second bottle of wine- Carla hadn't anticipated Lisa downing the first at the bracing speed of white water rapids.
“You sure you want to know?”
Carla bit her lip in an effort at restraint.
It was frustrating to see her pushing back but she could understand why she did it.
After her impromptu confessional about the state of her relationship with her daughter, the woman had since filled her in on her work complications from later in the day.
Breathing deeply to settle her stomach and avoid sending her off to seek shelter like a frightened animal, she laid her hand flat on the table, closing the gap between them.
“I don't know. Never going to though, if you don't tell me.”
Deepening whirlpools locked onto her benevolent gaze for the first time since they'd sat down.
“On the verge of rethinking my life choices.”
Her voice ticked up in question, splattering despair onto her hand in splotches of semi-filtered cement.
Seconds from drying out.
“Well, as long as you're on the verge then, you've got options. Despite whatever your mind is telling you up there.”
“I'm so tired, Carla.”
Her shoulders sunk down into her elbows, as they in turn gave way onto the table, narrowly avoiding the empty bottle still perched like an unlit flare between them.
“Feels like so long since something went right. Keep throwing shit at the wall, hoping something will stick.”
She looked small, Carla thought.
Objectively she was, in reality.
But she'd never seemed that way.
Everything about DS Swain screamed power and authority.
In the sense that this was someone who knew what they were about and weren't shy about displaying it.
Except Lisa wasn't like that really, she was coming to understand.
She was tender in more places than most people.
Kind beneath her bluntness; habit and company dictated which one she showed first.
If she showed either.
Unspoken recriminations and self-flagellations kicked at her ribs until she hid away to keep others from noticing the loss of ability when carrying their weight.
Time to take a risk and make an offer to take them on.
Carla shuffled sideways, edging closer to her.
She upturned her hand, the sound of her nails thwacking against varnished mahogany snapping the detective out of her stupor.
The blonde flicked her gaze between the brunette and the proffered hand before her.
Indecision and something as-yet unidentifiable wrote itself in cursive across her face.
Carla flexed her fingers encouragingly.
“In case you need someone else to take a few potshots at it for you.”
It wasn't quite a laugh; that seemed well beyond Lisa for now.
But there was a soft noise of amusement that escaped her, mouth quirking up imperceptibly.
“Going to take on all my demons, are you?”
Unsteady hopefulness encased the quip in a softer delivery.
“Me? Oh, I'm an expert at demons. Eat them for breakfast most days.”
The blonde very gently pressed her thumb against the palm of her hand, running it lightly across it, but not moving beyond that.
“In that case, I'll have to join you soon.”
Carla swirled the last of her glass and promptly finished it.
“Anytime you like. Consider it an open invitation.”
Lisa pulled back then, straightened herself and drank her own.
Carla missed the warmth immediately.
It was… pleasant.
She had opted not to crowd the woman with her usual brand of affection, sensing that an ill-timed touch could rip through the carefully embroidered connection they were building.
Nothing to write home about.
But not something to throw away offhand either.
“Don't suppose you fancy a walkabout while we hang on for your taxi?”
She had yet to ascertain her stamina when it came to alcohol but she had an inkling that however Lisa was managing for now, she wasn't too far off reaching her limits.
And that would truly terrify her; letting her guard down in public without any control over it.
“Yeah, okay. Probably for the best.”
Stone met the cement as it dried.
“What does that mean?”
Then it cracked.
“Well I'm clearly poor company, I don't blame you for wanting rid.”
Here it was.
Carla gave her an imploring look.
“Now I'm lost as to how you came to that conclusion.”
No response.
“Lisa, I offered because I don't want you getting too maudlin’ in here where you'll have to look half these people in the face tomorrow and deal with that discomfort. Because it is uncomfortable, I would know! I've lived it myself often enough.”
She softened, looking out barely beneath her lashes as she felt herself shying away from her own words.
“No point in turning a bad day into a bad week.”
Lisa sighed, wincing at how she'd misread things, drooping like a wilted flower.
“You're right. I'm sorry.”
She gesticulated nervously between them, moodiness wearing away in contrition.
“You've been sat here with me while I carry on like a miserable git; here and at the factory. I'm sorry for throwing it back in your face.”
Her voice dropped lower, the shard reappearing to shine some light back into her.
“I guess I'm not really used to this kind of thing. I've not had reason to trust people's intentions very much. But that doesn't mean I should just lump you in with everyone else and I don't.”
She offered a self-deprecating smile as she stood from her seat.
“How could I when you're the only one actively putting up with me?”
Carla snickered, throwing her coat over to her before they headed out.
“Wouldn't put anything past you, Swain, if you had your mind set to it.”
Turning back to catch the door ahead of her- it had become something of a chivalric game to see who could get there first- the brunette grinned wickedly.
“Besides, you could always call this community service, if it'd make you feel better.”
That earned her a bony elbow to her ribs.