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ASTRA HART'S confident persona had shamelessly faltered after walking up fifteen flights of stairs, "why the fuck didn't we get the lift?" She was practically doubled over in agony by that point, gasping for air couldn't save her now.
"You're the one that said you could walk up twenty flights, no trouble." He shrugged, "I told you not to."
That was true, but there was something in the way he'd said sure you can,— like he was daring her — which made her positively snap and rise to the challenge. "I blame you."
Why wasn't he tired yet? "Yeah, yeah. We're nearly at your apartment so quit complaining." If he were any other man, she would've made him carry her up the remaining three flights. But she couldn't be certain that he wouldn't drop her and leave the blonde dead at the bottom of the stairwell, so she held out for the final flights, collapsing onto the nearest chair the second she walked through the door.
"Oh," she said, swinging her head around from where she lay, "this is quite nice."
Morgan couldn't help but hum in agreement, it was nicer than his place, that was for sure. "Courtesy of the FBI."
"I'll send them a friendship bracelet, too." She huffed, "when I get around to making them, that is. Oh you know what, I've been meaning to ask."
She kept finding ways to pique his curiosity, walking over to the fridge, he urged her, "go on."
"Am I getting paid for this?" Derek Morgan let out the most obnoxious laugh that Astra had ever heard in twenty-two years of living. What a dick.
"No, obviously not."
She wanted to throw the vase next to her right at his stupidly smug face and kick him until he fell down, "so how am I meant to afford the materials for these bracelets? Oh! And I was planning on buying you all coffee every morning, how am I going to do that now?"
"Are you asking me to buy them for you?" He raised his brow, almost as if he was considering it, giving Astra a sliver of hope before crushing it to the ground. "Because I wouldn't hold your breath."
Astra's had slammed her head back into the sofa cushion in defeat as she let out a disappointed sigh, "I guess I'll have to steal then. . ."
His face was overcome by another smug grin, he just couldn't refrain himself from making the obvious comment, "wouldn't be the first time." Well, she had walked into that one on her own.
"Perceptive." She dropped the topic quickly — she'd come back to it when he decided that he liked her, like most people ended up doing — Astra Hart was ready to drift off into a restful sleep when her mind began to race, "are there cameras in here?"
Derek halted in his unpacking of the food shopping, the fridge dinging as if to tell him to say something. "Why would there be cameras?"
Astra was still looking around the room, squinting at every crevice to check for a flashing light, her hands fidgeting together — Derek had begun to pick up on her anxious habits. "Because. . . So are there or not?"
