"I used to," Ashton said. "Back before I moved to New York, with my old partner. Not so much anymore." He didn't drift off, didn't glance away. Those were good memories. She hadn't blindsided him and wasn't shouting at him about anything, so there wasn't any reason to be sad or ashamed.

"S'fun, though... even including the spiked punch." And on that note, he took a drink. Just one glass, he rationalized. Nothing more, and certainly not enough to make a fool of himself in front of any boss.

Ashton was drinking the punch now. Good. He needed to loosen up a bit. Quin knew he could do it, she knew he could even have a pretty great sense of humor from time to time. Just usually not in grand ways or in front of scores of people he worked with. It was the curse of being a hard ass. You kind of had to be a hard ass or you lost all of your street cred.

He said he'd been to things like this before, with an old partner. The same partner he'd brought up at the bar after the bomb... Some small puzzle pieces were starting to come together, and Quin tilted her head to the side slightly, thinking. The subject had come up before, vaguely and only really in half references.

"I didn't know you'd worked anywhere but here in New York." she settled on, and took another sip of her punch, eyeing the crowd.

"Is your old partner still there?"

"No," He said. His eyes flicked out to the crowd. "I lost her." Ashton took a drink. "But when we were together, these sorts of things were a blast."

He wasn't getting misty on her or anything. He supposed since he'd brought it up, she deserved to know, avoiding all the dramatic sad crap. If she dug deeper, he'd spill, but he wouldn't be offended if she didn't.

"Do you do these sorts of things often? Or did you, before? You look like you're used to getting dolled up for 'em." She looked great.

Subtle subject change. Maybe he actually did want to focus on the happy times and the party. Well, damn.

He'd lost her? Quin frowned slightly at Ashton and his damn veiled meanings. He'd also said that they'd been together. Had he meant together...or had he simply meant together in the physical sense?

The subject change was subtle, but a little meaningful and Quin found her cheeks darkening in spite of herself. She hoped he wouldn't notice, but found that she wouldn't be devastated if he did. The realization made her frown a bit and she reached up self-consciously to tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you." she said, but shook her head, "Other than school dances and friends' weddings, I haven't done much of this at all. Sometimes I just like an excuse to get dressed up."

"I'm sorry about your partner." she added thoughtfully after a moment's silence. "It sounds like you were close."

"Yeah," Ashton agreed. "We almost got married. She got killed before it could happen. That's when my mutation kicked in... saved my bacon... but overcooked hers."

And suddenly, things got heavy. The drink was good. He showed his appreciation for it by going back for more.

"I'm not gonna cry about it," He said, as the punch drained from the ladle into his cup. "Just thought you'd want to know. Us being partners, and all." It had kind of been a huge thing in his life. He'd mentally agreed to full disclosure, and here they were.

The punch ladle found its way back into the bowl as he turned to face her.

...And then Quin nearly spat her punch out.

They'd been engaged? Ashton? The hard-ass, suave, womanizing cop in front of her had been engaged...to his partner. Then she'd died.

Holy shit. That was a revelation. Ashton got more punch. Quin adjusted her world view.

Things made a whole lot more sense now. She'd never thought that Ashton's way with women made a whole lot of sense. He was an all-around decent guy...hell, he'd been there for her more times than she could count. He'd even done the right thing when..

This was a dangerous path of thoughts to travel down. He'd wanted her to know because they were partners. But he'd waited literal years to bring up the topic.

What the hell did you say to that anyway?

"Thanks." she said a little awkwardly, "For telling me."

Oh damn. Her punch cup was empty too. To the ladle went the redhead, and magically her cup was once again half full.

"Maybe some day you can tell me more." But this was a party, they didn't need to dwell. Quin looked at her punch glass.

Yeah, that had been awkward. Definitely, painstakingly awkward. He'd apparently gone to great lengths to make it so. But he wasn't going to dwell on it.

"Not much more to tell, Quin." Ashton stated. He turned the cup this way and that, letting the punch wash against the sides of the cup. "We got in some trouble, and before I knew what was happening, I was somewhere else, and didn't have her back. It sucked. But I'm not holding it against society, or my mutation, or anything like that. I sort of moved on."

Sort of. He'd sort of gotten over it. Quin nodded her head as Ashton spoke, looking down at her fancy shoes. It was still so novelty when he called her by her given name.

Ashton said that he wouldn't blame his mutation, and Quin had to respect him for that. The mutation was part of him, it would have been easy to blame it for his partner's death. The death of the woman he'd been planning to marry. Man, that still threw Quin for a loop. She looked at Ashton over the rim of her glass with new eyes as the spiked punch made its way down the hatch.

This was something she had zero experience with. She'd had her heart broken a few times, but those had always been situations where there had been someone to blame within the relationship. Something had happened to cause everything to fall apart. That wasn't the case here, and again the redhead found herself feeling sorry for her partner.

"From what I've heard, that's all a person can do..."

She paused.

"Move on...or try their best to move on."

The punch was starting to settle warmly in her stomach at this point, and she sighed slightly, looking around at the assembled cops. There were hours left for the party, but suddenly that didn't seem like much fun.

"I don't know about you...but I'd kill for a slice of pizza. What to ditch this shin dig and grab a beer? It's got to be better than this punch."

"In our fancy clothes? Pizza?" Ashton laughed. "Sure. Why not? I can always pay the fee if I get sauce stains on the sleeves."

They might get in trouble for skipping out on the shindig. They were supposed to be showing the New York elite city-folk MRC really cared. But. Eh. Beer and pizza was sort of hard to turn down. And it beat fruity punch, hands down. He set his glass on the table and left it there. Someone would sort it out.

"Thank God. Let's go." The clothes were a slight issue, but Mike had probably seen stranger things. Yes, they were kicking out early...but meh.

Nobody would notice that they were gone. They weren't the big names here anyway. The X-Nerd and his pretty little wife could handle all of the PR for tonight. The way they were dancing and schmoozing all the big name guests was fine with Quin. The kid was useful after all.

Setting her cup down by Ashton's, Quin took headed in the direction of the closest door. "I took a cab to get here. Did you bring your car or do we have to call another?"

Yeah, everything would be good. The valet had parked his car, so they would have to talk to him, but it wouldn't be hard. He told her that in fewer words. Let her know the valet would pull the car around.

"And I s'pose, if the clothes are a worry for you, I've got a couple spare shirts and pants in the trunk we could change into once we've shooed the valet away."

There was something very James Bondish about going into a run-of-the-mill pizza joint in a suit, but she might have thought it wouldn't be practical. All he knew for certain was that she was glad to get out of the party, and he wouldn't mind if she had to stay in that dress a bit longer. Whether she chose to or not would be up to her.

Nobody shot them dirty looks as they made their way out. Nobody at all. One or two rookies may have glanced their way, but the look he gave 'em told em everything was fine, and to move along. Obi Wan couldn't have done better, himself. They got to the garage with minimal effort, and he was glad for the city's cool.

"No need to change. I'm sure Mike has seen more puzzling things." she said in response to Ashton's offer, voicing her thoughts from earlier.

From there, it was no big deal to get to the car. Nobody noticed their departure, and nobody said anything. At least not yet. Monday might be another story, after people had a chance to notice they were gone, but for now the night was young, she was tipsy, and they were going for pizza.

Ashton's car was brought around, and the only problem it presented was getting in and out.

Short dress + high heels + spiked punch = a necessity for just slightly more coordination than Quin possessed.

Somehow though, she managed to get into the car...and then they were off.

"Why do you have pants in your car?" she asked, when they were well underway.

Oh good, she stuck with the dress. He approved.

As he shooed the valet away with a fiver and got into the car, Ashton smirked very imperceptibly. It vanished, once he was in the driver's seat. He watched Archer swing around to the passenger side and get in. Once she was done getting precariously situated, he tore his eyes away from her and started the car. Off they went.

>>"Why do you have pants in your car?" Quin asked, a short while later.

"Always good to have some spare clothes lying around in our work," He replied. "Remember to thank me the next time we fight a goo monster, or Cervantes has to cause a tidal wave to get something under control."

"Fair point, well-made Mr. Drake." Quin replied cheerfully as Ashton explained his portable wardrobe. Now she knew that the clothes were there, she'd never have to worry about the situation again. Funny, she realized a moment later, that it had taken a while for the idea to bring her own spare clothes had arisen.

Glancing sideways, Quin crossed her legs in the passenger seat, muttering under her breath as she knocked her shin on the dashboard.

"I like those things...but mostly just because I get to dress up." she admitted conspiratorially.

"It's probably not a big deal for you, but I never get to dress up."

That thought made Ashton smile for some reason. The thought that Archer had really liked the dress up. "I repeat," He stated frankly. "For not doing it often, you clean up well."

Him, on the other hand. "I just rented this," He admitted. "It reminded me of James Bond." A second later, he clarified. "Sean Connery's James Bond." The best one.