"Aren't I always HQ?"

Lara gave her friend a gentle grin, managing to get one out of her in response. "Okay, then. I'll be right back with the man of your dreams, okay?" By now, Lara was shouting over the music in her vibrant cop-shrill.

Oh, you are way too late, blondie.

Diane watched Lara weave her way into the crowd, attracting exactly the manner of attention a five-six perfect blonde should, and sighed a little. She pulled at her iced tea and unfocused her eyes, feeling the blood in her head start to vibrate with the pulse of the music, mercifully wiping her memory for at least a little while. She let time slide away, just getting used to being around people who didn't know who she was, didn't know what she did again. Trying to go back to who she was before...

Before.

Slowly, she became aware that the person on her left was male, taller than her, and subtly crossing the boundary of her personal space. She froze, pretending not to notice, as she took stock. Every few seconds, he would do some little thing that would catch her attention. He'd go through his jacket, flapping out an elbow towards her. He'd make some little coughing noise and resettle his weight, putting a foot into her visual periphery. He would turn to place his drink on the bar, then turn to fetch it again, both times facing her directly. Diane logged each of these minor transgressions diligently, knowing it was insane and unable to stop herself. Carefully, she lifted the small of her back off the bar, planning a way to get away from the man without drawing his attention to the fact that she was getting away from him specifically.

Then

"I missed you at the funeral."

The voice was dropped right in her ear, close enough to be soft, warm enough to give her chills, familiar enough to make her brain go bright behind her eyes. She turned in a snap.

"Of course, that could be because there wasn't one."

No matter how wide she made her eyes, she couldn't fill them with enough of him. On a jagged impulse, she put out a hand and pushed the flat of her palm into his chest, feeling warm and muscle and leather and cotton, watching it sway back with the force of her touch, hearing him laugh low in his throat. As she drew her hand back, he caught it, pressing it back to where it had fallen.

"You didn't do anything wrong."