Hairspray and a .45

"Mikey doesn't get drunk. But he's pretty funny. See that window over there if you doubt us" he nods to the observation window.

Mikey as long as he's known him can hold his liquor, and no not by the ears.

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Michael shakes his head again and lets the pair dominate their own conversation.

He's never seen anything like it in his life. A... waitrat... brings him a bottle of a brand he's never heard of, but he doesn't ask questions - beggars can't be choosers and he's pretty damn desperate to numb a couple brain cells. If things are like they're claiming it's all pretty fucking weird.

"Should I even ask how this is happening?" He downs the first beer in a long slug, his eyelids fluttering a second before he trades it out for the second, the waitrat scurrying off with the empty.

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Clementine takes a deep breath. "We made it with the cosmic power of our sex." She can't keep up the deadpan expression anymore and says, "it's the result of different universes banging into each other. I think."

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Sam laughs as them both.

"I think she's right Mikey, I mean if you doubt us look over at the window" he nods to the observation window as he takes a drink of his own beer. This right here is worth the price of admission..

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Clearly, he's never seen anything like it in his life - he sits a long moment, his mouth slightly agape but for all intents and purposes he's holding together pretty damn well. He's rarely been so thankful for all the really messed up shit he's seen over the course of his lifetime.

He doesn't really know what to say to that expansive view and merely lowers his eyes back to the brown bottle of tasty brew he's never heard of before in any country.

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Clementine's just going to take the opportunity to tease him. She still doesn't know exactly what Michael and Sam do; only that they're pretty damn dangerous.

"So where did you two meet?" The sort of question he would normally be asking of Sam and Clem, isn't it?

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"We crossed paths on a job once, and we bonded"

It's simple but really about all that can be shared before they have to kill her.

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Yeah, that's the simple way to put it.

Michael folds his sunglasses and puts them on the table next to his bottle - letting his fingers linger on the cold glass surface a long moment before adding his share. "We've known each other a long time, probably too long."

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Sam wouldn't dream of killing Clem ~~she hopes.~~ She automatically leans into him anyway. "You knew him when he was a real, live SEAL, didn't you?" The mental image intrigues Clementine, who's only seen pictures of a younger Sam.

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"That would be correct, and never too long Mikey, that would mean one of us didn't make it."

His jaw tightens a bit he thinks of the time he was sure he was dead. One of them anyway."

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A half smile flickers on his face before he drowns it with the beer. "Yeah, something like that."

He looks to the girl, "So, Clementine... you're... uh, not really police are you?" He lowers his voice as he speaks, leaning inward and against the table with the eyes that have worked on far too many women to give them that 'you can tell me anything' confidence.

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She rolls her eyes. "What made you decide that? Is it the hair or the bubs?" She digs into her purse, spilling the contents out on the table. She pulls out her badge and tosses it to him.

"I left the gun back at your place." She doesn't pack heat socially.

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"No, let's just say that as a rule I avoid involving myself with law enforcement."

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He studies the badge carefully, the leather worn and pitted from life in a purse that hadn't been emptied very often and frequent uniform wear. It seals it, she's a cop - just not a good one. Well, more power to Sam for picking up a ditz... a ditz that could get them both in very deep shit - but a ditz no less.

"It's a good rule." He lets himself slip a little, not really any more than
Sam clearly has. He quickly adds; "Police have a bad habit of sloppy work and getting shot in Miami."

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If Clementine could hear your thoughts, your jaw would be wired shut, young man. She no bimbo, she just...really lazy sometimes.

"You knew I was a cop when I met you," she points out. "The night you offered me a sloppy blow job. And one of my co-workers usually gets shot every week. I'm used to it." She blows them both a raspberry.

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Oh if she could read minds she would hit Sam a lot. "I know that I knew that. Don't worry about it much."

He gives Mikey a look that said don't worry about her she's not a threat. And did she have to bring up that drink.

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Michael's still definitely not sure the girl isn't a threat, they're always a threat... if not an outright liability. But, who is he to edge in on Sam's fun? As long as they stayed out of his way. And preferably out of his bed. Unless... well, best not to consider that road without a few more beers in him.

"So, vice division?" He flashes a wry smile to let her know he's joking, "Or is that more manpower than Reno needs for a single hooker?"

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"I'm a deputy," she says quite heavily. "And you wouldn't believe how many stings I've done. People will pay for it on the curb even when it's legal around the corner." She's wearing the stockings from her last undercover gig, actually.

Her hand goes to Sam's and she starts tracing the webbing between his index finger and thumb gently.

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Sam nods slowly how to tell Mikey that she's fine and not exactly illegal isn't a big deal to her.

"Right of course you are Doll, Don't mind Mikey he just likes to get a feel for everyone."

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He'd known full and well she was sheriff's department, but didn't really want her know that he knew. It was best that she pretty much thought he was an average guy anyway. At least the sort of average guy that pulls a gun when he finds someone in his bed.

"The thrill." He chuckles low in his throat, "Paying for it - there's no rush when you know what you're doing is all out in the open." He takes a long drink off his beer, "Getting caught is a form of catharsis."

He flicks his attention to Sam, licking a hint of thick brew from the corner of his mouth, one eyebrow barely quirking - just enough to make sure Sam knows that he's not about to trust her just on his... good word. "I like to feel people."

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"I've never understood why you should pay for it when you can get perfection for free." She squeezes Sam's hand, leans into him. "Feel people? I'd offer, but I'm taken."

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Sam smirks in to his beer. Really there is no other way to say it. Mikey and He needed a talk over about this.

"Yeah, true I think that is good. And I think you need to feel more people Mikey."

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Michael almost chokes on his beer - almost. He usually tends to expect that sort of thing out of Sam... but she was a bit of spitfire. He could work with that.

"Sorry, Sam... I hate to disappoint but I think just trying to sleep in my bed tonight will be closer to touching people than I want to get right now." He finishes his second beer and sets it on the table, gesturing at... something... for another. "You tend to leave behind a reek of Old Spice and scotch that takes a couple turns in the wash to get out."

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"That's where you're wrong. He smells like the ocean," Clem preens. He's her man and she's ridiculously in love with him. "The ocean and bay rum." But he'll be smelling her Liz Taylor's Passion for at least a week.

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