He returned her salute with his beer. As the drink came back in contact with the counter, a voice from behind caught his ear. It was a quiet voice, a gentle voice that may have betrayed some interest. The line 'come here often' betrayed more than her tone of voice had. Usually, that was the sort of thing you heard big bulky men saying to dames and broads in night clubs and seedy dives. A pick up line. Was she trying to pick him up?

Ashton noticed Archer leaning forward to check around him. He followed her gaze, around and around, glancing over one shoulder at the woman at his side.

The woman was small and pretty, with a hint of red. He regarded her politely for a second, thinking to himself.

This woman was attractive, and obviously interested in him. The kind of woman he could sneak away from the bar meeting with, on any given Friday. This wasn't any given Friday, though.

"Do you need something, Miss?" Ashton asked. Silently, he cursed the code of conduct generally befitting a drinking party with 'best buds' and 'squad members'. Bros before members of the opposite sex were the terms for the night. It would be rude to Archer to break from tradition, just for some pretty little thing with legs.

The blond kept up her act, unflinching in the face of the word 'miss', unknowing of just how 'miss' her attempt to 'hit' on the guy had been. "I was wondering if you could give me a drink selection?" She asked. "This is my first time. In this bar." The way she'd said 'first time' had spoken a whole other tone from what the message had meant to be. It told things. Insecurity. At picking up guys. A first experience. She bowed her head, acting away the role of a timid blond in need of advice.

Ashton didn't buy the act. He swung back to Archer. "Well," He said. "What do you think is good around here, Archer? For the lady?"

Quin watched the whole exchange with interest. Surely, Ashton was not going to ditch bonding time with his partner for some tiny blond bar fly who was obviously out to get herself a drink.

The woman commented on how this was her first time in the bar and Quin actually snorted a bit into her beer. If Ashton was into someone laying it on that thick, Quin was going to seriously lose respect for the guy. They were in New York, there were like 8 million people. A person had to have standards. The redhead filed all of this away in her head, where it would stay waiting for the first opportunity. If she got ditched.

The lady did need a drink, it turned out. Quin was shocked. Really, and slightly more shocked that Ashton continued the conversation. At least until he turned and asked for her opinion.

Quin grinned. She couldn’t help herself.

”I’m a beer girl myself, and it’s cold here…and cheap!” she said with slightly exaggerated delight.

The blond glared from around Ashton and Quin grinned at her, then raised her glass and took a drink, smacking her lips when she was done. ”Ahhh.”

"You hear that?" He turned back to the blond woman, donning a charming smile. "Cold and cheap. And good."

"Beer, it is..." The woman replied uncomfortably. She tried to keep a smile awkwardly fashioned onto her face. There was silence for a moment, while she waited for him to volunteer. No dice. "Do you think you could...?"

Ashton had already moved his focus back to Archer. He was ignoring the blond behind him. She was hot. She was desperate. It was a bad combination. The neediness just added to the unattractiveness. By comparison, talking with Archer was a far more attractive option. That did not mean he thought Archer was more attractive, no. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell.

"So, besides cold, cheap beer. What do you like at bars, Archer?" He continued, conversationally. "Buffalo wings? Sports on TV? Darts?"

Ah, well handled. Quin approved. By the time Ashton turned back to her, a broad grin had spread across the redhead’s features and she was chuckling. That, right there, might have just earned Detective Drake another free beer. It was nice to have a friend, especially one as popular as Ashton.

Honestly. Quin couldn’t blame the blond for trying. But that was ancient history now, and she had a question to answer.

”Unless you’re at a wing place...I usually settle with chips and salsa. Salt goes well with beer. ”

Quin looked around and shrugged her shoulders. " Beyond food...I like darts...and pool." she smirked slightly.

"And dancing. Sometimes I like to dance."

Salt goes well with beer?

"That it does," Ashton agreed, smiling behind his drink.

She liked darts and pool, too. And dancing.

"Dancing can be fun," He nodded. "Although maybe not at a bar. Night clubs are much better." He spoke from experience.

An eyebrow rose, and Quin regarded Ashton from over the top of her mostly-empty beer as he pointed out that a club was a much better place to dance than a bar. She lowered the beer, empty, and was surprised to see another one in front of her. She grinned at the barman and took the new beer.

”Sounds like you know from personal experience.” she said, ” Which is interesting because you don’t strike me as the clubbing type.”

It was true. He didn’t. Ashton seemed more like the…sipping liquor and hanging out in a dark smoke, filled room type. And that image…Quin had to laugh.

” I’m only good at two out of three of those things though.” she said, meaning darts, pool, and dancing. Taking a sip of the new beer so it didn’t feel left out. ” Bet you your next beer you can’t guess which.”

He didn't strike her as the clubbing type? An eyebrow arched in retaliation for her eyebrow's arching. She changed the subject before he could get in on that with verbal lashings. And suddenly, she was making bets.

"Two of those things, huh. Dang. I hate betting." But what could he do? "I'm not a betting man, so I'll just guess... dancing and darts." He hoped dancing. He'd never been a big fan of pool.

"Now, what did you mean 'not the club type'?" He changed the subject hastily, before he found out whether or not he was right.

Quin grinned and shrugged her shoulders, “I’m willing to suspend collection upon delivery of evidence to support any claim that may have just been made.”

They were police after all. It was only right. Besides, three beers in and the night young suggested that it was good idea to prolong the conversation. For now, Ashton could just buy his own beer.

As to the rest of his question.

“I don’t know.” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, ” I just figured you were more of a…dimly lit room, sipping brandy and listening to piano music type.”

Ashton made a face. "Piano." Really? "What am I? 60? I only know how to play that because my mom took me to lessons. Great instrument, but..." He chuckled to himself. "Not my cup of tea. Naw. I'm not the dimly-lit room, brandy snifter kinda guy. More..."

More what?

"Gray and black room, smoking a cigarette, fedora on, legs on table, monotone narration. On the mend, waiting on the landlord to walk in and take it all away because I've been shorting him on the rent, until some dame with legs walks in and offers me cash, because she needs help, and I'm the only guy for the job... kinda guy. Really." He shook his bowed head, knowing smirk on his face. "Don't I strike you as that type, more than the other?"

Awww, he’d taken piano lessons. And he thought she was calling him old. Not exactly…but now that he mentioned it…all of this did seem a little dated.

Ashton spoke, and Quin listened, trying to place him in the setting he described. It worked…to a point, beyond that… it was just kind of strange.

”The fedora…maybe. The cigarette…definitely not. Maybe some soft jazz though…”

Another draw from the glass. “And the chick with the legs…definitely.”

One more pause. “But what does that have to do with dancing in a club?”

"You brought it up," Ashton chuckled. He took another drink of his beer. "Maltese Falcon Ashton would be too dated for clubs, anyways. Too busy being caught up in a case. And smoking. Is disgusting." He glanced Archer's way.

"What about you? You never answered. Darts. Dancing. Or pool. Are you the type to spend time in clubs? Somehow, I picture you spending your free nights in the shooting range, or practicing some type of martial art." Maybe sipping a beer while eying her trophies from all those tournament wins. It wasn't a shot in the dark. He was joking. Mostly. Little girl like her, martial arts? Funny stuff. He'd be here all week. Laughing.

This time there was definitely a smirk spread across Quin’s face. Ashton was giving all the right answers, right down to the comments about smoking. Thank God. Quin had suspected his feelings on the matter after riding around in a car with him all this time…but it was good to have confirmation.
” Dance clubs? Yeah. A little dated. Elsewhere…I think you could get some play.”

Ashton was persistent, and Quin simply stared, barely suppressing a laugh as Ashton gave his incredulous description of what he thought her nights looked like.

My oh my did Detective Drake have some nasty surprises coming to him sometime down the line. She shrugged her shoulders, ”I told you. I’ll hold off on ending the bet until you’ve had a chance to evaluate the evidence.” she said, then chuckled.

”And yeah, I’ve been known to spend my fair share of time at the club…and the range. Maybe I’ll teach you a thing or two sometime.” She’d leave her martial arts prowess ambiguous. At least for the time being.

>>” Dance clubs? Yeah. A little dated. Elsewhere…I think you could get some play.”

"Some play?" He looked at her intently. Do explain.

And what about her? Clubs? Darts? Et cetera? He made another guess.

Quin stared. And then, she kept them from the bet again. "Evaluate the evidence?" Ashton quested. Was she asking him to take her dancing?

Was she also suggesting she was a better shot than him?

"Hmph," he chuckled darkly. "Don't forget, I'm your boss."

“Mmhmmm.” Quin said, holding back another laugh at the intent look on Ashton’s face. The redhead shrugged, “ The right kind of girl is totally into that whole hard-boiled detective sort of thing. Not having the PI angle might hurt you though. Sometimes ‘dames’ are involved in things that are better left away from the eyes and ears of the brass.”

Quin really couldn’t understand what was difficult about the concept of the bet. Ashton apparently had a problem with it though, so she sighed and rolled her eyes, just a bit. “Yeah, I was saying that I’d kick your ass at pool some time, and maybe embarrass you on a dance floor one day if the opportunity arose.” she explained. “No need now though. Just make sure you stay out of the way if I’m trying to throw darts. I’m terrible.”

As to his status as her ‘boss’ and ability on the shooting range, Quin snorted into her beer as she took another drink. ” Whatever you say…boss. Just don’t forget, eventually, the student becomes the master.”

'Mhm,' she said. 'Some types of girls,' she said, are 'totally into that' kind of guy. He did not ask, he failed to notice, whether or not she was one of those 'girls'.

He was a bit disappointed. She missed his line of thought. She had to point out hers. Pointy. That's what she was. Ms. Pointy. Not Mrs. He did not see a ring. And who would kick who's ass at pool?

"Maybe I could teach you. Darts. I stink at pool. You'd probably have me beat there." Maybe they could teach each other? Good thought, huh? He left it for her to come to. Dancing, he decided, could come another day.

Snerk. His comment about him being her boss, she'd turned back on him. 'Student becomes the master'. Right. "That isn't an 'eventually'." He smirked. "You have to be good enough to keep up. So far..." He trailed in a leading way.