Submitted for Feedback- "Staccato"
"Thank Christ for shellfish." Fingers snapped the crab leg. "Earth to Rhi. Pass the butter?"

“Butter’s why you’re dying young.” A complete lie. Immortality and all. Rhi slid it anyway and settled back.

Back in the saddle. Useful, with purpose, and no more doubt. She always gave him impetus. Reason. And now, partners in a new sense. Seafood dipped in hot butter. Enjoy the moment. "How's your meal?"

“Meal-tacular.” Rhiannon’s sarcasm heavy on the air. “Last time you order while I’m in the bathroom.” Food pushed around on a full plate. Her mind someplace else, a cigarette burning to ash.

"Ash is a good Watcher. Friend of the big man himself. She's in good hands." He sensed her distance. Wondered if it brought memories. It brought back one of his own. Rhiannon walking through the door, a promise to meet three months later. So much then unknown. "You're a million miles away."

Away from other diners, and unconcerned about eavesdropping. “She’s green.” Rhiannon’s thumb at her eyebrow, rubbing. “I could break her in half.”

Half of the crab leg devoured. Napkin dabbed at dripped butter on his chin. "Yeah. A stiff wind could'a pushed rollergirl into the bay. Fate doesn't always pick the seasoned and stout."

"Stout, maybe not. Weighing a least a buck is preferable.” Her fingers tapped, the nail polish chipping. She abandoned her cigarette for a pen. “You never know about watchers.” The ink lines were dark against wood grain. Ancient-seeming. Not the first etched there.

There was a small lull. The Agent considered changing the conversation. "Penny for your thoughts." He padded his pockets. "Don't suppose you'd take credit?"

Credit would get maxed, all that raced inside Rhiannon’s head. “Was thinking I get it now, why it’s hard. The leaving.” The pen continued its long lines, its gentle curvatures. “Almost wished she came with us.” Dark eyes lifted. Unblinking. “Mum’s the word.”

Words searched to comfort. He stretched out. Looked at possibilities. "You'll see her again. Jennie'll surprise everyone." The Agent kept her gaze, the dinner ignored. "I wanted the same. To protect you. Selfish. You had a destiny."

“Destiny might be overrated.” Rhiannon’s eyebrows arched. “I’m still looking for mine. The big one, you know. Every slayer wonders. Is it something big? Do I kill it or does it kill me.” The ballpoint digging deep. “They stopped whispering you the answers.”

"Answers mean no surprises." He'd mulled this over before. Since Beowawe. When the Powers made Swiss cheese of Whistler's brain. "There's something liberating about not knowing what comes next. Like when you first kissed me. Didn't see that coming. Happiest moment." He watched as his girlfriend scrawled. "Do you want to know, Rhi? A peek at your future?"

“Futures exist.” Rhiannon’s thumb touched the inked area. The pad went black. “Already, I mean. Tarot proved it to me. A nine of swords… the nightmare card. Emmeline saw a redhead. It was Deanna, I think, and the Hellverse. You.” A sweep of hair off her temple. “So no, but yes, too. It helps you recognize what matters when it comes. Like a match on gasoline.”

"Gasoline prices rise, taxes, death and my love for ya. Four constants. Everything else is a variable." A small smile. His partner/best friend/lover. "And that card only said 'what'. Your actions were the 'how'."

“How the pieces come together... that’s what I change.” Rhiannon capped the pen, frowned into a glass of iced tea. A gnat floated on the surface. “But they do come together. No choice about that.” She tipped the liquid out. A puddle spread. “I just want to know the players.”

"Players change. Turn right instead of left off of Las Vegas Boulevard, it's a Mohra instead of a vampire." Whistler understood however. "The Defiler's still out there. And Elfleda."

Elfleda. The name gave fire to the slayer’s eyes. “I want to hurt her. I’ll go through her science project if it does the trick.” Rhiannon wanted more. She wanted permanent damage done. A scar like the ones inside her. Invisible, but she could remember.

Remembering the Corruptress' influence on his girlfriend, Whistler grimaced. Her soul darkened. Twisting the Slayer until she was almost unrecognizable. Never again. Not while the Agent drew breath. "Nothing since you and Connor smashed the temple of doom?"

“Doom evidence, as you recall, was handed over to the book guys. I’m just here to kick ass and report back.” Rhiannon bit her lip. It cut sharp, tasted like iron but didn’t show red. “Maybe you should ask how the books are treating them. Then point me at Iron Man.”

Iron Man armor would be a boon. Shame comics weren't real. At least the movie didn't suck. Another tangent. He needed to work on that. "You're more. Just ask Jennie. And yeah, I will soon as we get back." The hatted man glanced at her ink-stained thumb. The table. Her etching.

Etching had ceased upon picture’s completion. The rough outline of a young face. Wide eyes. Rhiannon slit her plate across it. “You know, lately my dreams are blank.” Her expression followed suit. “Sometimes I get a wash-out before a big one. Separates it from the junk before.”

“Before the shit hits the fan?" He saw eyes before the image was covered. This he didn't press. Rhiannon would explain if she felt it important.

“Important shit. Otherwise my brain wouldn’t bother with a dream.” The slayer shifted. Restless now. Ready to get home, in case the show started without her. “What about you… anything?”

"Anything? Other than Jennie. They're not talking." The Powers played that game before. When he was destined to play a part in events to come. Which meant trouble.

Trouble could be a self-fulfilling prophesy. It could hang over their heads like a dark cloud. Never produce rain. Rhiannon shrugged. Defiant. A success story on their heels, and the highway to home blazing ahead. “Enjoy the silence.” A smile. Sunlight breaking through. “Somewhere in San Francisco, Ash is earplugging 80s new wave.”

Waves crashed on the shore outside. Inside, a hand reached out. Thumb pressed against ink-stained thumb. Their waiter silently presented the bill and slipped away. "And there's an Iron Man in Vegas that needs to be destroyed." Money placed on table. "Ready?"

“Ready. Just don’t complain when I drive fast.” A hint of dimples. Rhiannon’s secret weapon, rarely used. “I might pull over. Refuse to go anywhere. What would we do to pass the time?”

Time he didn't need to answer Rhiannon's question. Gods, he loved her dimples. "Give you reasons to take our time getting home."

"Home can wait."