A guffaw of a laughter almost had her choking on a gulp of tequila at Eric's comment on how she would<b>not </b>have been able to handle all the various perverts that frequented the Airlines. True, very true. Perhaps for the first week or so, she would have managed to smile and be patient and polite... but soon enough she would have started letting her true personality shine through. Slamming tables shut, asking passengers if they possessed dust particles inside of their heads instead of brains. Aaaand yes, those people that thought it was cool to cup a lil feel. No doubt Missy would have ended up serving some time in jail after having gone berserk while at 30,000 feet.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9999ff">"Ooooh, why am I not surprised to hear that. Eric Brannigan, always wanting to kick ass and look cool while at it." </span><br/><br/>Her teasing eyes looked him over. He did a fine job with being a tough fucker while just being a cop. She really could imagine him as a SEAL or anything of that caliber. He had everything for it. But it had been her lucky day, apparently, when he decided to rather pursue the career of becoming a cop. Her giggles soon joined his when he failed to keep a straight face. Man, she loved talking with him. He was the only one that could always make good fucking jokes and he<b>always</b>understood her crude humor in return. They were a match made in heaven, but had somehow ended up as partners. And it really was a deadly combination to start boinking the one person that was supposed to be watching your back. Or so people said at least... one couldn't exactly knooooow until they tried it out themselves...<i>No, I have to stop thinking with my junk.</i>Shaking her head a bit, she grabbed the bottle in a borderline aggressive manner, before pouring more into the glasses. She would probably not feel satisfied until that bottle was empty.<br/><br/>Once Eric started speaking again, she turned her head with a 'da fuq' kind of expression on that pretty face of hers; eyebrows raised high on her forehead as she wondered if he'd gotten too much to drink. What did he get? The meaning of life? Why tequila<b>was</b>the meaning of life? Sipping quietly on the burning liquid, she waited to see if he cared to finish that little thought of his. But... Missy had not been expecting his next words. Her eyes went blank for just a second, before she looked away and started fiddling with her own shot glass. She didn't want to meet his gaze right now. Because her heart was hammering too hard in her chest. He was hitting too close to home. Missy pursed her lips, then slowly glanced at him again. The atmosphere had turned a bit somber now. At times, she had wondered if there was something wrong with her. Why couldn't she connect with people outside of her work? Why was it so damn hard to just date a 'normal' person and have 'normal' conversations. Why did everything end up in awkward silences or arguments? Because... because it was exactly like Brannigan said. Nobody outside of the station<b>got</b>it. They didn't get shot at, didn't have to go through the whole process of catching a criminal only to have him roaming the streets the day after because the system is fucked. They didn't have to look at the corpses of unfortunate souls that had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nobody would be able to understand the nightmares that had her jumping out of bed, drenched in cold sweat, while fumbling for her gun.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9999ff">"Yeah... they wont get it... ever..." </span><br/><br/>She didn't know what she could say right now. Didn't have any wise words of her own. He was right, of course. She couldn't even try to deny it. And didn't want to either. He was so right, it physically hurt. Picking up the glass again, she poured the tequila down her throat before sighing out.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9999ff">"Fuck man."</span><br/><br/>Licking her lips slowly while looking at her partner through the rosy red shades of a buzz, she then shrugged with a half grin.<br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9999ff">"Shooting something sounds just about perfect right now. That is, if the bad ass Eric Brannigan can still walk after a few more sips." </span><br/><br/>Instead of pouring into the glasses again, she gave him a daring wink, before raising the bottle to her lips and taking a hearty chug. Not the best of ideas, but she needed this buzz to continue. Didn't want to return to the gloomy reality. Her eyes almost watered over as she bravely swallowed, barely managing to hold back any grimacing, before she offered the bottle to him. For some strange reason, she found it fascinating (and borderline<b>hot</b>) watching his lips touching the same surface hers had just been glued to seconds ago. Because maybe... just maybe it'd be their only chance of exchanging a lil saliva in their lifetime.<br/><br/>It wouldn't be difficult for him to pry her away from the bar when he'd feel like they had just about had enough of alcohol in their system. Now that he had promised her some shooting, she was more than just a little excited at the idea.