There were some things that were certain. People always talked about death and taxes, but most of the time they left out the DMV. Riley glared at the face staring back at her from her driver’s license. Why she even had a drivers license in New York City was a bit of a mystery in and of itself, but it was simply more functional than a non-driver ID. One never knew when they were going to end up behind the wheel of a car.

Riley could remember her mother complaining about the lines at the DMV in suburban Chicago, if anywhere in Chicago was suburban, but there was no way on Earth it could have compared to what a person went through in New York City. In a way, the DMV was like Central Station, the crossroads of the world.

The DMV in the middle of the day, on a Thursday. That meant every cab driver on the planet was there too, in line, in front of Riley. The worst part of it was, that no matter how short her skirt was, and how low cut her shirt, she wouldn’t have gotten through the line any faster. Luckily, Riley had discovered this on her first such trip, eliminating the need for such clothing on this trip. She also didn’t have the heroin in her purse that she’d had the last time. It had been embarrassing as hell when the spoon had fallen out. Riley winced at the memory, she was a different woman now, and as she looked at the sunken cheeks and dead eyes in the picture, suddenly the line didn’t seem so bad.

Riley adjusted her purse, slinging the strap over her head so the purse hung on her hip and left her hands free to run through her hair. The line inched forward a few spaces as someone with a simple title transfer finished their business and moved through the throng and towards the door.

Riley sighed and looked around, even if the line had moved, it was still going to be a considerable amount of time before she made it to the counter. Riley wasn’t one to speak to strangers, but this was getting ridiculous, and there were loads of people to amuse herself with in line. A look to the front and she scowled, taxi driver for sure, marked by his pot belly and dirty wife-beater. How did the man get around like that in New York, in December?. Riley turned, jackpot. ”Can you believe this line? What are you in for? Expired license, or title renewal?” Hey, if he had a title, that meant a ride, and like Riley had just thought, it was December.

The line wound, with no end in sight. Step by shuffling step, the hours advanced more quickly than the people did. This was going to take all day.

Rupert settled into the tedium without protest. Here was a place where—for as long as this line took—he was doing exactly what he needed to be doing. It said something about a man’s life when he’d rather be in a line at the DMV than back in his own apartment.

>> “Can you believe this line? What are you in for? Expired license, or title renewal?”

Unwillingly, he brought his mind out of its content boredom. A little prick of irritation lodged itself in the back of his mind. Strangers who talked to strangers in lines, or on buses, or on the airplane. It could end up interesting. For the most part, though? The strangers who talked to strangers are the kind that didn’t have anyone else to talk to.

Damned if he was one to talk.

“A little of both,” he said. “License renewal. You?”

She could see the irritation flit across his face and Riley raised an eyebrow, frowning slightly . Irritation wasn’t a reaction that Riley was used to from men. They were at the DMV though and everyone was irritated at the DMV. The guy couldn’t possibly have thought she was some kind of floozy, she was just wearing jeans and a sweater. And a pony tail. Nothing special or over the top or intimidating. Maybe that was the problem. Then again, some people were just grumpy in New York during the winter. Maybe this guy was one of those people. Her possible ride was looking less and less likely.

Then he spoke and Riley’s hopes shot right back up. He was definitely in line for a license renewal. That meant he could drive. Riley turned more fully so she wasn’t looking at the man from over her shoulder, he was taller than her and they were just close enough by virtue of the line that she had to look up a little bit. She shrugged her shoulders in response to his question and held up the little plastic rectangle in her hand, thumb carefully over the picture. ”Same. I was from Chicago before here, so I’ve never really driven, but you never know what‘s going to happen, right? ”

Well, that kind of killed the conversation, Riley thought as she shuffled forward behind the taxi driver in front of her. Good, there were only 999,999 people in front of her now instead of the solid million who’d filled the space before. If she didn’t start talking to frowny mc frown face again, she was never going to get a ride.

Riley looked back to her line-buddy and tried to see if he had his license and paperwork clutched in his hand like she did hers. She couldn’t tell, so she held up the little plastic square again and winced slightly, “I hope my picture is better this time.” she said, then grinned a siren’s grin, “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine? I'm Riley, by the way.”

She chattered her piece, then faced front again. The whole line shuffled a few steps forward, each person alone in the multitude. Good.

Then she turned back to him, with a grin like a headlamp. Great.

>> “I hope my picture is better this time. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine? I'm Riley, by the way.”

He let a few moments pass, to make something very clear: he was not in the mood for social bunnies. “Rupert.” A one word reply. He raised his hand, old license and paperwork in tow, and let polly have her cracker.

The photo was three years old. The kid was smiling that awkward smile of a twenty-something year old who didn’t know when the flash would go off. The man holding it looked more than three years older. That photo was before he’d quit the force; before he’d worked at the Camps, before he’d shot Raina and killed their child, before Isabel Duskmoor had stabbed him in the chest. Before he really gave a damn about genetics, either way, and before he could picture himself dying alone and bitter. He was probably the only person in line who looked worse than their DMV photo. A lot worse.

Still want to talk, polly?

He was unimpressed, Riley surmised as she smiled like someone had stuck orange wedges into her gums. Apparently that wasn’t the route to take with this particular gentlemen. After a second look, Riley figured she should have known that, especially after the initial scowl that had been on his face. She made the quid pro quo offer and nothing happened, nothing happened, and…nothing happened. As the time passed, Riley’s eyebrow rose and the smile changed from the bright and cheery one that had been there to something slightly more twisted. Riley thought she probably did twisted as well as she did bright and cheery. Then the man spoke.

”Like the bear. Cute.” she said, crossing her arms with her license and paperwork still clutched in her hand. Closer she leaned to the picture held out in front of her, and the smile slipped completely, fading into a contemplative frown. Riley looked from the picture on the license, to the man standing behind her in line, then back at the picture on the license.

It spoke volumes and the twisted smile came back. ”Could be opposites.” she said softly, uncrossing her arms and holding out her license again. Maybe he’d look this time, she wasn’t smiling anymore.

”I can give you my sponsor’s number if you want.” she said, jingling keys with a 3 year sober chip hanging from them. ”He’ll kick your ass, but it’s worth it once you’re clean.” It didn’t even occur to Riley that it was possible Rupert wasn’t an addict. Riley knew strung out, and this guy was strung out.

Like the bear.

Cute.

Rupert’s jaw tightened. It wasn’t her fault that she was the second woman who’d said that to him. It wasn’t her fault the other was a frosty mutant woman he’d rather not think about right now. It wasn’t her fault, but blame was rising sourly in his throat, and there she stood. Still talking to him.

>> “I can give you my sponsor’s number if you want. He’ll kick your ass, but it’s worth it once you’re clean.”

“I’m not a drunk,” Rupert said, ignoring both the license and the keychain she was shaking like a damn pom-pom. “And I’m not a druggie. I’m an insomniac and an asshole.”

His eyes flicked to her license picture, and back to her face. The corner of one lip turned up, in a silent snerk. Emphasis to that last point.

Strike two. Riley saw the little tick in the man’s jaw as she pointed out that his name was similar to that of a certain British bear she’d watched on Nick Jr. as a kid. He didn’t look like the type of man that would hit a woman, but Riley had experienced irrational anger and misplaced blame a few too many times to believe that there wasn’t something slightly dangerous about the situation she’d gotten herself into. They were in line though, in public, in a government agency. She relaxed a little bit, realizing she still held the keychain up and let her hand drop to her side as Rupert explained that a sponsor was unnecessary for exactly what it was that ailed him.

Riley nodded as his eyes went to her picture, then snerked right back at the look on Rupert’s face. ”I know it’s rough, that was the point. You are kind of an asshole, aren’t you? ” she said, the snerk turning back into a slow smile. She shrugged her shoulders.

”And in my experience…most insomniacs just need a good lay.”

That said, Riley turned back to her spot in line, just in time to shuffle a few more feet forward. 999,998 more to go.

>> “I know it’s rough, that was the point. You are kind of an asshole, aren’t you? ”

“My,” Rupert said, with all due monotone, “aren’t you observant.”

>> “And in my experience…most insomniacs just need a good lay.”

My. She was observant. Rupert’s mind gave a rather unpleasant spin, trying to remember—with all due eloquence—when his last lay had been.

Raina. Last year. No—two years ago? Well, f***. Minus the actual f******.

“You have no idea,” Rupert said, to the back of the woman in front of him.

Asshole. Smart-ass. Rupert seemed to have all of the “ass” avenues covered. Riley wondered just how deep that went. She almost snickered at the implications of that mental statement. She gave the guy a quick once over. Definitely Italian. She’d seen worse.

Then again, she wasn’t seeing anything by this point. She’d turned around. There were two possible outcomes to that action. Either she’d completely ruined her chances for a ride, or even an interesting conversation in line…or he’d bite on the last comment.

…and there it was. Riley smirked slightly at the dirty back of the guy in front of her, then looked over her shoulder. An eyebrow raised.

”No..you’re right. I don’t have any idea.” she said, then turned back around, the slightly twisted grin back in place. A glance around showed that there were still numerous people in line. Plenty of time for a good conversation. Especially about sex. She gave Rupert a look, or lack there of.

”Trust me. Get that taken care of…you’ll sleep like a baby. ”

The guy really did look tired, and in spite of her slightly twisted intentions when she’d turned back around, Riley tilted her head, ”So what is it that keeps you so out of the social scene? Married to work? If you think it‘s the asshole thing…you‘re wrong. I know plenty of girls who go for that sort of thing.”

>> “Trust me. Get that taken care of…you’ll sleep like a baby.”

Eyebrow raised for eyebrow raised: a fair exchange. For once, Rupert’s wasn’t cynical. More... surprised. Had she just said...? In the middle of the DMV? Granted, that might not have been an offer. It might have just sounded like one. A hell of a lot like one.

In the middle of the DMV. Classy.

That eyebrow led his eyes to a more thorough appraisal of the woman in front of him. As opposed to staring at her like she was a talking piece of trash. Her hair was a surprising echo of his own—black and curly, though luxuriously longer. She was a comfortable few inches shorter than he was. Her body was slender, but not... lacking. The eyebrow arched its approval.

>> “So what is it that keeps you so out of the social scene? Married to work? If you think it‘s the asshole thing... you‘re wrong. I know plenty of girls who go for that sort of thing.”

There was only one answer to that. “Do you?” Rupert asked, returning class for class.

Riley actually smiled when Rupert's own eyebrow rose in response to hers. Surprise did much kinder things to his face than the obvious disdain with the conversation had before. A point to Riley then, she ticked mentally, deciding to keep track. If nothing else it would be something interesting to go over in her head later. The twist faded again, if only slightly more than before. Then he started giving her the once over. In the DMV. She'd peaked his interest.

If there was one thing Riley was used to, it was men taking inventory of the body she'd been graced with. It wasn't necessarily a lecherous look, Riley knew those. Then again, who would actually think they'd pick someone up in the DMV? On second though, she didn't count that out. This was New York. People met in the strangest places and ended up hooking up. She returned the favor, more thoroughly than her first appraisal.

He was tall, or at least taller than she was, the better to cast longing gazes up at...as long as proper distance, or lack there of, was provided. He wasn't stacked, but he wasn't stick skinny either, very average. Curly hair, much the same shade and apparently texture as her own, she avoided his eyes. Eye contact was dangerous. People had always told her that the eyes were windows to the soul, and Riley believed it. She'd just have to wonder.

In response to the approving quirk of his eyebrow, Riley smiled and shifted her weight back onto one foot, crossing her arms across her chest as he responded to her statement. No full disclosure. Riley was starting to enjoy this conversation more and more by the moment, she smiled. More genuine this time, no megawat grins or twisted smirks. She did look up then,not with her whole head, just with her big blue eyes. Eye contact was exchanged for that little spot between Rupert's eyes, but hopefully it was close enough.

"Oh Rupert. I know plenty. Haven't you ever heard that nice guys finish last?"

She didn’t seem the shy type. The way she kept her eyes ducked slightly away from his—even while she gave his body the same car shop appraisal he’d been giving hers—was an odd piece out of place with the rest of her actions.

He liked it.

>> "Oh Rupert. I know plenty. Haven't you ever heard that nice guys finish last?"

“A few times,” he said, a grin hinting at his mouth. “Can’t say I’ve paid much attention to it.” Their line shuffling had brought them next to the wall, for now; he leaned his shoulder against it. “That ‘nice guy’ deal—hasn’t exactly been my problem, Ms. Riley Sommers.” He’d missed catching her middle name, when she’d flashed her license. Too bad.

“What about you? Ever heard that good little girls shouldn’t talk to strange men in the DMV?”

The line was moving a little more easily now, someone must have come back from lunch. Kind of them. They were against a wall now. Rupert leaned and Riley followed suit, propping a shoulder and crossing her jean-clad legs at the ankles. If surprise had done something kind to his face, the slight smile ghosting there performed miracles. Riley had to admit she was a little impressed, she hadn't expected to enjoy this conversation so much. Especially considering the way it had started. Maybe things were going to turn out alright after all.

Rupert admitted that he had heard the old addage before, but hadn't really ever paid it much attention considering the fact that it hadn't ever been his problem. Scowling as he had before, Riley could believe it, teasing as he was now...it was a little hard to believe. He used her whole name, and Riley grinned a husky chuckle escaping her. "You did pay attention to the license."

They were flirting now, and Riley was shocked to find she was actually enjoying herself. It had been a long time since someone had genuinely flirted with her. Most of the time they just made bawdy comments about this costume or that at a photoshoot, or flat out propositioned her. It was funny how many men thought that a little showing skin automatically meant she was easy. That wasn't the case right now, though. This Rupert guy was talking to her, flirting, and he was doing it while she was in a sweater and jeans. She smiled again, and shook her head, "I may have heard that before, but I don't remember telling you that I was a good girl. Do I look like one?" she said boldly, looking right at a place over Rupert's shoulder. She wished she'd paid closer attention to the man's license, she hadn't caught his last name.

"And maybe I like strange men." she said with an arched eyebrow, and just enough satire in her voice to make him wonder if she was joking.

The line shifted, and they moved away from the wall, Riley took the opportunity to turn away for a moment. The almost-eye-contact was getting uncomfortable. They actually weren't far from their turns now, she turned back, interested to see what Rupert had to say in response to that.

>> "I may have heard that before, but I don't remember telling you that I was a good girl. Do I look like one?"

“Hmm,” Rupert said. He lifted up his hand, cupping her chin softly. This side: that side: he made sure to give her face a proper look-over, those shy eyes of hers included. Blue. An interesting contrast to her black hair, and a rare combination. “You look pretty good to me,” he said, with a light grin. He let his hand drop again—though not too quickly.

>> "And maybe I like strange men."

They were almost to the front of the line—how and when that happened, he didn’t know. Soon they’d be breaking off to different counters, though, summoned by over-stressed clerks. Rupert looked back at the woman in front of him.

“Do you like Ford Taurus?” He asked, grin still in place. “There will be a black one parked across the street from here, at the Italian restaurant. I’ll see you there.” One of the clerks was beckoning. With a brush of hand-on-arm, Rupert cut in front of her.

He had an asshole image to maintain, after all, and ladies do so like it when they’re right.

When Rupert reached out to cup her chin, Riley nearly flinched away. A hand to the face was a far more intimate gesture than most people realized, and it hardly ever came without other intentions. Whether they were violent, forcing someone to look at you in the face when they were trying to do anything but that, or simply tipping someone’s face up for a look or kiss, it always meant something. Riley didn’t move though, just kept her eyes carefully focused anywhere but the face of the man who was once again giving her a very thorough once-over. This time it was her face he focused on. To her surprise, Riley found herself flushing slightly at the scrutiny. People looked at her all the time, people looked at her closely all the time, and at places far more flush-inducing than her face. She let Rupert turn her face one way, then the other, and let her eyes flick to his for just a moment when she was facing him again. His eyes were green, or maybe brown, Riley swallowed as he released her and studied her shoes for a moment as he spoke.

Riley wanted to look up in surprise, she was used to compliments on some level, but she was usually pretty unremarkable when dressed like this. At least in the crowd she was used to running with. She looked up again and shook her head, ”Don’t judge a book by its cover.” she said softly, good was the last adjective most people would use to describe her. At least in the sense she’d originally intended.

It was funny how fast a line could move when a person was having fun, and at some point the million people in front of them had shrunk to a half million, then a measly couple thousand, and now it was actually their turn. Rupert spoke again, and it took a moment for the words to register. A Taurus, Riley tilted her head. It was a fitting vehicular match. Nothing too flashy, nothing too new. Ohhhh, and he assumed, posed the question and didn’t even wait for the answer. Riley watched him move to the counter he’d been summoned to and wasn’t even mad that he’d cut her in line. It was the first time she could remember in a long time that she’d been caught this off guard by a man without something being slipped in her drink or injected through a vein.

Riley frowned a little bit, though, as she was summoned forward and set about getting her business taken care of. What kind of game was she playing here? Was it actually a game? All of that flirting, she’d let the man touch her face. At some point she’d even forgotten that she was trying to get a ride. She glanced to where Rupert had been and noticed he was gone. It wouldn’t be hard to slip out of the DMV and walk the other direction down the street. As Riley signed her name on the license form and took the still-warm piece of plastic from the woman behind the desk, she knew that wasn’t what she was going to do.

Out the door she went, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands against the chill of the New York winter. Across the street she went, eyes searching for the car that Rupert had described. It was there, just as he’d said, and he was waiting next to it, arms crossed and leaning casually. She moved up beside him and laid her hand on the top of the car and patted it, like she’d seen cowboys do to horses on movies, ”I do like a Taurus.” she said, ”As stubborn as a bull can be, there’s something reassuring about all that pigheadedness. They‘re passionate though. I‘m a Taurus.” Rambling about zodiac signs. Smooth.

”So.” she said, not taking her arm from the top of the car, but turning to face Rupert a little more fully, ”What does an insomniac asshole do to wind down after a harrowing experience at the DMV?”