When the urge to travel overtakes, it should be tempered with at least a little practicality and logic. That wasn't exactly how things had gone in Ella's case but, oh well.

It was how she found herself bouncing around bars and hotels all over the world. Sure, she had her little studio flat in Glasgow as a base, but in recent years she was hardly ever there.

Instead, she was as close to settled as she had been for a long time. In a pompous hotel in Boston. It also happened to be where she met someone, she'd call her closest friend and unofficial landlord of sorts - she'd been crashing at his for as long as she could remember now, reassurances it was fine despite her attempts to get moved out the way.

“Bentley, event room six.” the familiar voice called as she hung up her coat in a locker, turning to catch James staring from the doorway, doing his level best to hide the smile as she groaned in exaggerated annoyance “Another day, another group of businessmen who skimp on the sommelier,” she commented, trading in the almost brash rumble of her accent for the tilt of light Scottish lilt that seemed to keep the customers happy and the tips appearing.

“Nope, for once they know their wines and Dean has just got done setting up their selections for the meal.” James soothes her, an almost cheeky smile at the way she seems genuinely surprised. It tends to be she gets the well-paying but rough parties, namely because she can handle it - but still, it's nice to get a civilized group who won't be asking for fancy jaeger bombs by the end of the evening. “I'm working with Dean. Ooh, joy, he's always great banter during the downtime.” Ella spoke brightly, briefly giving him a one-armed hug “But you're by far my favorite of the night staff. Including myself.” she added with a soft laugh that was lost in the din of the bustling staff corridors.

Speaking of the devil, Dean popped into the back for another bottle of wine just as Ella was about to head through to behind the bar. “My favorite forest!” he greeted - a nickname that stuck early for the pair. Unfortunately.

As James made a beeline for the next fire to fight, even at this late hour, Ella followed Dean back behind the bar of one of the event spaces. Giving a nod to the server, the young waitress stepped towards the long table to inform them they could now place cocktail and spirit orders.

Dean leaned a hand, heaving up the ice buckets so he could lean close and bring her up to speed on the group “Local… politics, DA, upcoming lawyers, those sorts,” he summarized picking up on the barely raised brow that broke through her 'customer service face'. Thankfully, it remained in place for the most part as a shadow appeared across the bar, Ella stood quickly as she expected the young waitress.

Instead faced the vaguely tilted head of one of the guests and a gaze that felt like he was seeing into her damn soul. It took every ounce of composure for her not to shudder.

“What can I get you, sir?” she asked cheerily, watching as the accent landed and prompted the barest hint of a smile from him “I was going to ask about whiskeys, but it sounds like I should trust a recommendation.”

Ella didn't let her thoughts show on her face, as if everyone from Scotland was an expert in shortbread and booze, before turning to the section of wall behind her for spirits. Stretching to reach one from the top shelf, she spans a couple of ice cubes in the glass to cool it and leave just a trace of water before pouring a healthy measure “Small batch, single malt - Borough, though we're one of only two stockists in the city.” she informed him pleasantly, managing a small smile despite everything in her head screaming 'these are not good people, minimizes interaction, the tips aren't worth it.'

His gaze doesn't leave her as he takes a sip, apparently mulling it over before he gave an approving smile and saunters back to his seat, moving unhurriedly as he picked back up on the table's conversation.

Barely moving her lips as she fidgeted with the garnish trays, Ella kept her voice low as she caught Dean's slightly wide-eyed gaze “That look never means good things, what's wrong?” the sommelier shifted along the bar behind her. “Former dirty DA, now... crime boss who keeps his hands clean. Does a lot of business here.” Her comment carried on a breath and was loaded with sarcasm.

“Great…”

The night managed to go much the same, quite quiet for the sheer number of folk they had. Sure, there was the occasional ripple of raucous laughter, but it was mostly like any other event. Even when James appeared, checking in with the group, there wasn't much out of the ordinary. “Frank, a pleasure.” the former DA's voice rang out from the end of the table, fixing him with a level stare and easy attitude that the manager didn't react to. “Mister Stewart, we're pleased to have you with us again. I trust everything was to your satisfaction?” he enquires smoothly, ever the professional even as he notes the way the man's gaze flits behind him to the bar with a slow smile as he downs the last of his whiskey “As always, Frank. You've really got an eye for staff, I'll say that.”

There's a barely discernable tick in James's jaw as he smiles politely, “Well, a business is only as good as its staff.” he comments simply, a tone as if Clyde should be able to relate.

A slow nod of agreement as the bearded man gets to his feet steadily, James politely gesturing to the doors as the party leaves, most talking among themselves but Clyde content to hang back and speak with James as if they're old friends till the doors click shut behind them.

From just over her shoulder, Ella hears Dean release a breath, calling over the waitress to give pointers on where she could improve and the like - the poor thing only started a few weeks ago and they're already throwing her to flying solo at private functions, must be the day manager's idea of a joke. Though, if it continues this way, she should be fine - the night staff looks out for their own, so she'll learn quickly without someone biting her head off as a driving factor.

“Hey, kid,” the girl startles visibly as Ella speaks up, despite how soft the woman tries to keep her voice “You'll be okay. You handled it well, for a trial by fire.” at least the friendly smile Ella aims her way is returned with a noticeable easing of the waitress's shoulders as they finish clear up and return to the staff halls.

Later, Ella can be found just inside the staff door, obnoxiously twirling her car keys around a finger as she waits and says her goodnights to the leaving night staff. Finally, trailing behind the last of the night shift, comes James. “Ready? Wouldn't want to get stuck in that rush-hour traffic?” she jokes, earning an amused groan from her friend as he slings an arm around her shoulders with a heavy exhale that makes her surprised, he's not straight up leaning on her. “Yes, please. Let’s not top off a long night with traffic.”

It only happened because, despite offering her a place to crash, James started to feel bad about finding her curled on the sofa - a relic of the manners that had been drilled into him most likely. She'd lasted one night in his bed, despite his best efforts to hide the stiffness in his back from sleeping on the sofa, she'd noticed it on the drive to work. Noticed the way he winced ever so slightly when they hit a pothole.

It had made for an awkward conversation at the end of the shift - her near begging him to switch back, him stubbornly refusing to 'let the lady sleep on the sofa', till Ella reached the end of her patience. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, it's a damn king, there's plenty of room for both of us.” she'd huffed, folding her arms loosely as he approached her with a slight frown. Well, not quite a frown - she could read him like a book, he'd quite obviously got the wrong end of the stick, earning him a deadpan expression as she spoke dryly “Frank, relax, I'm not trying to fuck you.” His response was an awkward and almost relieved noise of amusement.

Since then, it was just a thing. Sure, some days that meant spooning with her best friend but there was nothing there. They'd tested it as a theory at one point, more out of drunken bad decisions than anything. But even after multiple drinks deep, they still concluded that while the other was objectively good-looking to them and a person they liked, there was a distinct absence of any attraction there.

A point only emphasized by the fact Ella was rudely awoken by the alarm and the slap of an armed landing across her head as James attempted to fumble the clock into silence. “Tell me again why you won't just move the damn thing to your side?” she grumbled, reaching to switch it off with practiced efficiency as she hauled herself from under the covers. “For the hundredth time, there's no plug for it on this side,” he muttered with a yawn, padding off for a shower as she disappeared to get coffee brewed.

A practiced routine that meant they switched and soon he was at the door with her keys in hand as she wandered out jamming the last few pins into the twist in her hair in an attempt to hide that she'd run out of time to get it all the way dry.

Predictably, the day manager was waiting to give James the run-through as they walked to clock in and stow away their stuff. He was oddly smug about a client booking one of the suites as he added that they had booked the lounge for a private function till midnight. “Special request that she serves them,” he added with a nod at Ella over Frank's shoulder. Leaning around her friend, she managed a small but sickly-sweet smile as she bit out the response of “Mixologist, not waitress.” She nearly slammed the locker door shut. “You may want to get her to rein in that attitude once you see the room.” he drawled, handing a printout to James before he left without so much as a backward glance.

There was the sharp hiss of a breath pulled between teeth that got her attention, reading over his shoulder “Stewart. I don't like sending anything less than a duo where he's concerned, especially not that far from everyone else.” referring to the lounge on the floor below the suites, fairly regularly used by occupants of the suites above it but not usually with such specific requests.

Ella frowned for a moment, knowing acutely that there was no saying no. It was, technically, a reasonable request and he was one of their more well-known regulars in the city. Namely, people still trusted him, he still held sway with local law and despite no longer being a DA he was still someone the bosses wanted to keep happy. “Barback.” she spoke suddenly, dragging his piercing gaze to her “Fulfill the request, send me with a barback. I can grit my teeth and play waitress for the night, but we'll still have numbers.”

It was obvious from his expression that James didn't like this, but it was the safest solution either of them could see. Calling over one of the back-of-house staff, Ella had to wonder if his choice had been deliberate given that young Sam was training for the fire department so looked suspiciously like he could be a bodyguard.

Escorting them personally to the lounge, he didn't miss the slight quirk of Clyde's brow at the addition of the barback - holding the former DA's gaze until he'd backed out the room with the usual respectful incline of his head and gentle click of the doors.

As Ella directed Sam to sort ice and make a start on garnishes, Clyde spoke up from the middle of the half dozen or so companions seated around him, “Frank seems intent on keeping a man at your side.” he commented smoothly, watching her with that same easy confidence as last time “Anyone would think he doesn't trust me around you.” there were a couple of chuckles from his suited buddies as Ella grabbed the pad and pen from behind the bar, approaching with her best attempt at polite and cheerful “Health and safety. We all take our jobs very seriously.” holding his gaze stubbornly before letting it swing round the group “Drinks?” never dropping her eyes too long as she noted the orders.

The night went along much the same way. In the downtime, she would quietly teach Sam some basic bar skills, the numbers gradually dwindling until it was just Clyde and them waiting out the clock.

The second the clock hit midnight, Ella was quietly covering the trays and setting up the clean glasses. Clyde watched intently as he leaned his forearms on the bar, eventually extending a large hand towards her “Where're my manners? I’m—” it likely wasn't her smartest move but she cut him off as politely as she could, shaking his hand as briefly as could be considered polite before trying to retract her hand “Mister Stewart. We're briefed on all suite guests.” her customer service persona slipping just slightly when he didn't release his grip on her hand. “Please, call me Clyde. I didn't catch your name?” despite his charming tone, Ella couldn't help but feel like offering that information was a terrible idea. “Bentley,” she answered quietly, not about to give out any more information than he could get from the name tag pinned neatly to her waistcoat.

Tags only ever displayed surnames, perhaps a first initial in the very rare cases where they had multiple staff with the same surname. Ella had never thought to ask why, perhaps it was just a personal preference of the bosses or maybe they had decided it was more professional. 

Finally releasing her hand, Clyde chuckled “Bentley and Frank?” though Ella didn't respond beyond a tight smile as she motioned for them to leave, locking the doors quietly once everyone was out. Trying to ignore the way Clyde leaned on the doorframe - objectively, still a reasonable distance from her but personally far too close for her liking.

Swallowing the mix of suspicion and annoyance, she imitated James's respectful little nod with a politely spoken “Goodnight, Mister Stewart” before leading Sam back along to one of the staff lifts so she could check in with Frank and Sam could get back to his work.

When her friend saw the slight frown furrowing her brow, he motioned her behind the front desk “Are you all right?” concern and a protective tone dripped from his words as she waved off his question. “I'm fine. He's just very... intense. It's the constant feeling of being watched, studied, it's exhausting,” she responded almost tiredly, briefly rubbing at her face with her hands before she pulled herself back together to ask, “Where am I needed for the rest of the shift?” which only got a response of it being a slow night so she could man the main bar, but it was unlikely she'd have much actual work to do.

You'd almost be forgiven for thinking that 'work issues' could stay neatly contained at work. But the world isn't so black and white, plus whatever power writes the script of reality has a seriously twisted sense of humor.

That was the only explanation Ella could fathom as she strolled through the market, easily navigating with an arm full of bags, for encountering the main work issue of Clyde Stewart and his disturbingly astute gaze.

She had been mid-way through her usual chipper banter, carefully adding the new items to her bags “No Frank today?” the elderly man asked cheerily. He was met with a brief chuckle from her, an endearingly gentle sound like a warm blanket “Not today. Work has been hectic, and he needs the rest - though he'll probably perk up the second he smells this. Seriously, you outdo yourself with every new batch.” she complimented with genuine warmth to her that Clyde had yet to see, noting how broad her accent was compared to within the hotel as the elderly man bashfully waved her away.

“Surely a woman like you could perk him up - though the bread is a nice touch.” while his voice was smooth and light, it still had Ella focusing on keeping her breathing slow as he easily fell into stride with her. Without giving her much room to argue, he took advantage of a bottleneck in the crowd to scoop the bags from her arm into one hand, like some play to make sure she talked to him.

“Whatever you're assuming, Mister Stewart, I'm fairly certain you've got it wrong.” just because she wasn't at work didn't mean she could talk without filter, one wrong step could still cost her an earful from the bosses. “We out in the world, just call me Clyde,” he reminded her, a hint of amusement lacing his next comment “Oh? Was assumin' from his territorial behavior that you two were a thing.”

“All right then, Clyde,” she deliberately, almost sarcastically, drowned it in emphasis “No offense, but I don't see how that'd be any of your business, either way.” a heavy arm draping casually around her shoulders as they walked, Ella fighting her instinctive reflex to slap his hand away from where it rests over her far shoulder, thumb brushing the side of her neck.

“Call it curiosity, it happens when you've been doing business at the same place for so long. You want to know what makes them tick.” his tone is deliberately light, thumb shifting to rub insistent circles in the tense muscle under it.

The clatter of keys in her hand as they near a little car has him shifting slightly to walk at her back. Nearly crowding her as she opens the boot and reaches for the bags with a polite but detached 'Thanks' - instead, he sets them inside himself, reaching with next to no effort to briskly close the boot, not moving his keen gaze from her. “I imagine I'll be seeing you again soon, have a nice day, Ella.”

It's not till she's sat in the driver's side, huffing in annoyance, that it hits. He called her by her first name. How in the hell did he find that out? Tamping down the flare of panic and anger as she drove home, she'd deal with that little issue at work, but she couldn't raise it yet without basically ensuring James would be an insufferable mother hen for goodness knows how long. He still maintained that while she had grown up in a 'rough area', the sort of people who frequented the hotel was another kind of dangerous altogether.

A couple of days later, a rare night off.

“What's your trouble with Stewart?” Ella asked as nonchalantly as she could manage, leaning on the island as he cooked. It wasn't that she couldn't cook, but she found nowhere near the same joy in it as James did - much more content to tick off a list and lug ingredients back. If she hadn't been watching so carefully, she probably would have missed the way he stood up just a little straighter before responding without even glancing back at her “He's a regular client of the hotel - I just struggle to get a read on him, it makes me nervous.” he admitted simply, finally casting a glance at her over his shoulder “Why the sudden interest?” it wasn't accusatory but Ella could already hear the concern edging into his voice.

“Ran into him at the market, the one near work with the bread you like...” she muttered, trying to keep her voice as if she was talking about something as mundane as the weather but he still turned slowly to lean on the counter facing her “He seemed interested in what we were, called me Ella. I don’t know, it feels like he sees so much...” while the comment about him knowing her name had made him briefly frown in worry, the final comment prompted a nod of understanding as he mumbled something about it being the lawyer in him, constantly observing.

“Ella, are you all right?” he asked kindly, rounding the island to wrap his arms around her shoulders, letting her rest her head back against his chest - hence being able to feel her nod before she hummed, “I'm fine.”

There was a dragging silence, punctuated only by the steady low simmer of the pot before James broke the silence after pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “He probably got your name from the day manager. What a prick,” he said so casually that Ella couldn't help the snort of laughter as her expression shifted to one of agreement, neither thinking that highly of the day manager and his bizarrely pompous attitude. Nor his superiority complex regarding the night crew.

It's another quiet week of shifts before James is seeking her out in the main bar with a sympathetic half-smile. “Again?” Ella almost whines, casting a glance back down at the bar knowing full well it would have to be heaving for him to justify a 'no'. It's met with a discrete nod as he escorts her through reception to the function room next to the restaurant. A reassuring hand on the small of her back as he speaks softly, “I'll be at the front desk, barring any major disruptions, and it's a formal meal so there's a duo of wait staff.”

The fact it seemed to be more of a private event and less of some intimate gathering did well to soothe her, along with the comfort of working in a team. Normally, she didn't get rattled, but something about how familiar he was, had left her on edge.

“At last,” Clyde speaks up from the head of the table as Ella steps away to move behind the bar. “Gents, you're in for a treat tonight. Especially the whiskey lovers among you.” he's so casually confident in his attitude, fixing James with a slow smile. “Thank you, Frank, that's all for now.” her friend gave a tight nod and a final glance to emphasize his reassurance from earlier. He returned to his usual post at the front desk, the doors closing behind him with an almost inRolls Royceble click.

After a while, she almost relaxes, content to make small talk with those who approach for cocktails, apparently with zero self-doubts even if they're enjoying the brightest fruity drink she can make. It's nice - they're eager to share stories of holidays with their wives as she works, sometimes asking for recommendations if they were to stay there.

As the night wears on and the atmosphere becomes jollier, she's soon part of what seems to be a game. The guests coming up with increasingly obscure cocktails to try and stump her - so far, she's yet to be caught out. Clyde seems to be watching with amusement, even when he's pulled into a conversation, she's uncomfortably aware of his gaze.

Though not as aware of his presence, as it turns out when she realizes too late that it's him who has sidled up to the bar.

“Workin' so hard and not even breakin' a sweat, quite impressive.” His small smile was unexpectedly endearing as he leans his forearms on the cool wood surface to get just that little bit closer.

“Glass of Borough... and one for yourself.” his offer was met by the scripted reply that she can't due to this and that in the code of conduct. “Shame. You'll just have to join me for one when you're not working then.” The assumption that she doesn't get a say in it rubs her up the wrong way.

A lot does about Clyde. He's not bad looking, he seems polite enough but the observing kicks in her fight or flight. The focused attention makes her nervous, jittery - but she can't be completely sure as to why.

“You don't need to do this every time.” James is watching from the doorway as Ella wrangles a fresh set of bedding on, despite the fact he only changed the damn thing yesterday. As she spots a rouge hair clip or t-shirt, she launches it to him and continues. “Well, yeah, I do. Look, put it down to the mysteries of women or something, but trust me, all right?” she's sporting a smile as she collects her things, tossing them on the sofa as she passes them, right on top of the pillow and neatly folded blanket.

He watches, almost marveling, as she pins a loose shirt to the inside of her jacket, all the essentials for a night in a motel disappearing into the pockets like some modern-day Mary Poppins bag. “Right, I have got the details of every motel and hotel within a fifteen-minute walk and in my self-imposed budget. Just in case.” she's slipping her mobile into the pocket of her jeans, shaking her hair out the plaits it had dried in as he laughs.

Fixing him with an accusatory glare, glancing in the mirror to see what he finds so funny as if she's flashed him or something. When he composes himself enough, he collects their coats, approaching with a smile to pull her into a hug that's more like a headlock “You take this wingman thing entirely too seriously.” though he appreciates it, generally not the most social it's nice to have a close friend who 'gets' him. Ella ducks out of his hold to be able to speak clearly, practically herding him out the door. “Anything worth doing is worth doing right.”

It may be a wine bar sort of club but it's about the only place they agree on, Ella resisting anywhere that essentially requires a dress to get past the door, James screamingly out of place in the pool halls and dive bars she doesn't mind.

As usual, he needs no help to get flirting, Ella's presence more a confidence booster than anything else - he usually feels sleazy going out to deliberately pick up women, but her reassurance that there are almost definitely women out doing the same, helps soothe that.

It's no surprise when he finds her at the bar to say he's going, the whole 'checking on his friend' thing doing wonders for the woman waiting with a lip caught between her teeth.

Now she's flying solo, she chances the club down the street. Louder, busier, and generally the perfect place to get lost in your head and good music.

This is exactly what she gets to do, an easy smile on her face among the crowds of people moving like an ocean to the music. It's close quarters, bumping into others isn't exactly a rarity, but it's the deliberate tap on her shoulder after a while that has her pausing. Turning, she finds herself face-to-face with someone who looks like security. Quirking a brow, knowing she's done nothing to warrant getting kicked out, she waits for the muscle to speak.

“Ella?” He leaned to her ear so she can hear him, prompting a slow nod from her before he continues, “Boss wants a word. Follow me.”

Well, shit, that's not good. But Ella follows, familiar enough with the place that she's not going to find herself stuck in a hall somewhere, but skimming through her list of if she even knows the owner. Maybe he's been to the hotel or something? Did he maybe own that bit on the restaurant street she did some shifts at years ago?

The whirr of thoughts came to a screeching halt as she stepped up the small staircase into the VIP section and Muscles McGee finally stepped to the side to reveal his 'boss' reclining on the couch. All that time in the city and yet now she couldn't seem to shake the bearded bastard.

“Ella…” losing a battle to hide the slight smile that was probably helped by the booze in her system, tone a mix of amusement and something that spoke to her noting how he kept appearing. “No company tonight?” he asked, a teasing tone as he pats the seat next to him, holding her gaze stubbornly.

“Take it that's rhetorical since you seem to know a shockin' amount about me.” Her response was more casual than she'd usually allow with someone she barely knew, sauntering over to drop into the seat and taking a moment of pride at the expression on his face. Like the comment or delivery had caught him off guard.

Clyde recovered well though, dropping an arm from along the back of the seat to turn more towards her. “Well, knowledge is kind of key to the job,” he responded. “Former or current?” came her quick wit response. He wasn't expecting her verbal parry like that, but he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. A breath of laughter laced through his words as he responded slowly, “Both.”

“Little overdressed for a nightclub, aren't you?” Ella says, propping her head against her hand as she leans on the back of the seat. Clyde responds with a shrug, the hint of an easy smile just noticeable through the beard, “Business. It's not all cocktails and fancy dinners.” Clyde's voice is tinged with good-natured humor, though he can't confirm if the candid attitude is because he doesn't have someone higher in the food chain to fear or because her company is loosening him up.

“A hard life for some...” Ella teases, one of those smiles that looks on the verge of laughter pulling his gaze from hers to focus on her lips in a way that has her suppressing a shiver. It certainly sobers her up faster than a bucket of ice over the head.

Thankfully, she regains composure, tactfully nudging the conversation to his time as a DA, figuring getting him to talk about himself is a fairly safe zone. Absentmindedly sipping the drink, a server brings by at one point, taking longer than she cares to note to realize he's either very astute or she's easy to read in that Clyde had correctly guessed rum and coke as her poison.

She was gingerly accepting a second glass when Clyde started with the questions about her time before the hotel - seeming near fascinated by how casually she appeared to treat all the traveling, but thoroughly confused why she'd stayed in Boston of all places. It was because it was his hometown, but Ella had no such prior connection to sway her time there - it seemed to take him by surprise that the city and its people had grown on her. She stayed because she didn't feel that pull to go be somewhere else, at least for the moment.

It was late as they stood outside, Ella turned up the collar of her coat against the cold as she bid goodbye, and turned to start her walk - scrolling through her options on her phone to start calling someone. “Ella,” her name called along the pavement startled her slightly, stopping to turn back. “It's late, get in the car. I'll drop you off on the way, where to?”

Ella huffed as she strolled back. “I don’t know yet, probably the first motel along the way that has vacancies.”

Clyde looked thoroughly confused for a second before folding his arms when he leaned back against the car door. “A vacancy?” earning him a joking roll of the eyes. “Motels, huh? Gotta give Frank his space to get his groove on.”

Clyde seems much less intimidating when he laughs, more regular. Stepping to leave barely a couple of inches between them, he's holding her gaze again. “Or…maybe you can come back to my place.”

Ella checks out Clyde before her gaze drops under the guise of checking her phone before he adds, “There's a guest room at my place that hardly ever gets used.” He looks at her lips as Ella’s bottom one is stuck between her teeth in thought, her expression revealing rough ideas of naughty things she could do. But a bad thought occurs to cancel the rest out - her bosses would be pissed that she's socializing with one of their top clients. She’ll be out of a job when word gets around. Still, a better offer than faffing around finding a motel room. Ella nods, getting into the car as Clyde holds the door for her before shutting it with more care than she thought possible from the broad-shouldered man.

Clyde caught Ella’s slight surprise, “Hmm” as she got out of the car, staring up at his place with a vaguely-amused frown. Passing her a little closer than was necessary, he quirked a brow.

“Not what you were expectin'?” a hint of teasing to his tone as she shrugged when they stepped into the elevator.

“Kind of? Your type tends to favor tradition. They show up in nice cars that are classics. When they talk about homes, it's some big mansion in the suburbs,” Ella says it offhand, more thinking aloud than anything else. He turns, hands casually in his pant pockets as he speaks in a low voice “My type?” Ella can vaguely hear a warning in her head that she's said something she shouldn't have, gotten too cocky - but the part of her brain that's been drizzled in rum is running the show now, prompting her to turn her head to him briefly “Crime lord, mob boss, however, you want to dress it up.” by her tone, you'd be forgiven for thinking she was discussing something as mundane as the weather.

A huff of laughter as he guided her out of the elevator with a light hand between her shoulder blades reassured her a little that she wasn't immediately about to end up dead or jobless. “Well, aren't you just full of surprises...” he chuckled, Ella subtly shaking a little of the tension from her shoulders as she followed him through the open-plan space. “It's not quite Borough, but it's pretty damn good.” his comment brought her attention back as he set two glasses on the counter in front of him, his gaze flitting up to hold hers, almost looking out from under those lashes “Believe you owe me a drink.”

Ah, fuck.

Don't make bad decisions, don't make bad decisions, don't make bad decisions...

A simple drink stood leaning against the counter - turned into deeper conversation and little nudges - which eventually ended up as easy banter on the sofa. Clyde reclined like a king on his throne as Ella sat sort of side-on, legs curled under her as she rests her shoulder against the back of the cushions. Eventually, probably when he'd leaned to laugh about some comment she'd made, Clyde dropped the hand of his arm along the back, drawing nonsense patterns on her shoulder with his fingertips. A move Ella was well aware she should have handled at the time, but she found herself not minding it enough to care.

“I'm doubtin' your bosses care that much about what happens with guests if you're not on the clock.” Clyde spoke up, his voice a low rumble, whether intentionally or not “'Sides, I can't be that bad if you're here.” he teased lightly, looking at her with that slight quirk of a smile as if waiting for the reveal of some secret.

“You're un-nerving,” she speaks with a smile, and he nearly chokes on his drink containing a laugh, his expression prompting her to continue as his touch becomes firmer on her shoulder, straying to the side of her neck “You just casually stroll straight into familiarity with people.” Clyde can't help but smile at how the drinks have loosened her tongue, sounding more and more like the easy-going Scot he'd witnessed at the market “Plus, you look at folk like you can see everything.” there's laughter laced in her words as she seems to realize how much she's rambling. “Not quite everything,” he muses, picking vaguely at the sleeve seam of her t-shirt; her face heating as her brain catches up. “You're proving my point, Clyde,” she comments quietly, the hint of amusement in her voice as she shakes her head.

He shrugs, it's a gesture done with such ease, he quite clearly has very little cause to worry about how he comes across, he's practically oozing self-assured confidence. “Not a clue what you mean, I'm just enjoying a good drink and some gorgeous company.” keeping his tone light, he lets his hand rest cradling the side of her neck, thumb brushing over her pulse point almost possessively.

It takes every ounce of her remaining ability not to shiver, the only giveaway he's gotten any reaction to is a slightly longer blink and a shaky breath pulled sharply through her nose. At this point, Ella would be surprised if he couldn't feel the way her heart is running a mile a minute, despite her calm demeanor, she was sure she must be practically vibrating like a hummingbird.

Despite all the moving, she's never been involved with a guest or a co-worker. No matter how easygoing she behaved that was one rule that always seemed to stick with her. But Boston was blurring that line. She and Frank were friends, they were both crystals clear about that, but they'd had the chance to be friends a while longer than anywhere else she'd lived - hell, they were close enough for people to assume they were a couple, as evidenced by Clyde thinking exactly that. Was time an excuse to loosen her rules a bit? Or was it just the haze of a tipsy brain speaking?

A hand on her knee pulls her out of those spiraling thoughts that had prompted a small frown to grow on her expression, pulling in a steadying breath as she realizes just how much closer he is. It wouldn't take much to just reach out and...

Her fingers trail through his beard till he's pressing his cheek into her palm with something like a sigh. That does it. The thin thread of restraint snaps as she closes the gap, leaning to brush her lips teasingly along his, gently catching his bottom lip briefly between her teeth before letting it slip free as she leans back slightly. It's more to gauge his reaction than anything, the way he chased telling her she's not about to make a complete tit of herself for misreading the situation.

There's haste, and desperation, in how they narrowly dodge noses to lock the other in a kiss. The grip at her knee was firm but careful as he uses his hold to ease her across till, she straddles his lap, large hands splaying over her back to drag her tightly against his chest. She doesn't fight it, a hand weaving into his hair as the other slips under his jacket to map the hard plains of his chest under his shirt.

A roll of her hips has him grinding out a drawn-out “Fuck...” between clenched teeth, his head falling back over the cushions as she hides a gentle chuckle by unhurriedly lavishing attention on his neck. Ella can't lie, that reaction is a hell of an ego boost. A hand at the nape of her neck pulls her up as he starts speaking as calmly as he can “We've had a few drinks-” but Clyde is pulled up short when he locks his gaze with her, her eyes focused and clear.

He'd been ready to play the moral and polite gentleman. To bemoan their drinking and express how much he wanted her, but sober enough to remember every second of it. That little plan was quickly going up in smoke - taking with it the finely crafted demeanor he used in public, true nature bubbling through like a pot on high heat.

Shifting them, he near slammed her back into the cushions below as he pinned her with his weight settled between her thighs. Ending up tangled and grinding against each other like a pair of horny teenagers, him having been taken slightly by surprise at the speed she'd shucked off his jacket.

“Someone's eager.” his rumbling teasing prompted a gentle chuckle from her as she made to prop herself up slightly, Clyde smoothly pulling the arm out from under her to press her hand into the arm of the sofa above her head. “Let's get you to bed,” it near groaned into her throat as he brushed his beard against the skin of her clavicle, smirking at the barely hidden whimper he pulled from her. “Dinner?” his question was collected and controlled, Ella taking a moment for her brain to catch up and nod when she didn't trust her voice.

Smiling slowly, he stood, extending a hand to pull her to her feet as he led her down the corridor to the guest room. Standing at her back in the doorway, he noted the shaking breath she pulled in, speaking softly against the shell of her ear “Get some rest. We'll go out for dinner, do it right, then I can take you apart piece by fucking piece till you don't even remember your name.”

Well, fuck. That's one way to shut up the usually quick-witted smart-arse.

“Thank you,” it came out much weaker than she'd been aiming for, clearing her throat quietly to try and sort her voice “For letting me stay tonight.” the hum of thought behind her almost sounded amused before he moved away, steps retreating to his room as she closed the door and leaned back heavily against it.

Clyde woke the next morning to Ella wrestling her way back into her boots while muttering a string of colorful threats at the hem of her jeans that keep getting stuck in the teeth of the zips.

“Morning, someone seems chipper for how much they drank.” he greets with amusement as he passes where she's sat on an ottoman, going through the habit of setting the machine with a pod to sort his morning coffee. Once it's brewed, he turns to lean against the counter, watching her over the rim of the mug, the edges of his eyes crinkling with a smile.

Ella sits up finally once her boots are zipped, greeting him with a slight breathy “Mornin'.” and a bright smile as she stands, “You may have the size advantage to process that much, but I have the genetics. Scots may get sunburn on a rainy day, but we don't get hangovers.” she comments proudly, only half-joking as she notes a shrill alert from her phone that her cab is there, making towards the door.

Clyde catches her gently by the elbow, maneuvering till she's between him and the wall. “We still on for dinner?” he asked with that soft gravel to his voice that has her swallowing thickly as she nods “Excellent. I'll text you the details,” he responds with a small smile as he opens the door for her, relishing the way she doesn't seem to trust her voice to speak as she leaves.

By the time Ella gets home, she notices the bedding in the wash basket and the set she took off back on the bed. There's the telltale sound of running water and she's glad Clyde had an en suite because she'd hate to be feeling grotty and have to wait for God knows how long for James to be done.

She's just about to leave the room when she spies a very specific box poking out from under the bed as if it wasn't put back properly, making a mental note to torment the hell out of James at least once today as she heads through to put on some coffee and wait sat on the counter of the island as she works her way through a large glass of cold water. The smell of brewed coffee lures him down the hall in a towel, startling slightly when he sees her perched on the counter wiggling her eyebrows at him. “Good night, Pandora?” she teases as he makes a coffee to take back to the room while he dresses. Despite the flush she can see creeping up his neck, he plays it cool “Mhm, we're getting drinks next week.” James responds, taking a long sip of his coffee before tilting his head slightly and asking off-hand, “Where did you end up staying?”

Barely managing not to react, Ella waves off the comment “Unimportant, you two are going for drinks? Isn't the date supposed to come before the kinky sex?” the cheeky smile stretching across his face telling her exactly what he was about to say as he left to go get dressed. Prim and proper Frank? Yeah right.

Her phone goes off as the bedroom door clicks shut, Ella is immediately grateful that James can't see the way she's biting her lip as she reads the message from someone whom he's not a massive fan of.

“Thursday, 7 pm, Rossi’s. Meet you there.”

She's jostled by the soft pad of footsteps, James rounding into her sightline as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Out with it, where did you stay?” he smiles triumphantly when she blushes. “What poor man's soul did you suck out?” he nudges her knee as she leans next to where she's sat, earning himself a sharp swat to the shoulder.

“None. I went to a club after you went home, met someone, crashed at his, no hanky-panky and we're out again on Thursday.” As much as Ella hated even just omitting information from him, she was hoping it would satisfy him and she could move on with the day. The look he gave her was framed by a subtle frown, obviously more suspicious because she was being unusually cagey when they were usually almost uncomfortably open with each other. “Who's the guy? It's not exactly reassuring if you can't tell me,” his voice was soft with a tone of concern.

Ella said it so fast and so muttered he could barely tell she was speaking, carefully prompting her to try again with a reassuring hand on her knee as she took a deep breath. “Clyde Stewart...” to his shame, his first reaction was the working code of conduct that didn't exactly look kindly on staff fraternizing with guests. Though, it was quickly followed by personal concern given his affection for Ella and his wariness toward Stewart.

Arranging his features to what he hopes is minimal judgment, he squeezes her knee “Keep it professional at work... and text me while you're out so I know you're not in a boot or a hospital bed somewhere, okay?” he speaks quietly, a gentle smile at the way she visibly relaxed and pulls him into a hug. “Promise,” she murmured, slightly muffled by his shoulder.

A couple of shifts pass without incident, just the monotony of manning the main bar through the night and one incident of an irate guest who ordered a ‘gin and tonic, but make sure it's grey goose' who then refused to listen and caused a scene when she explained that Grey Goose wasn't a gin. According to the guest, she was an idiot who didn't know what they were talking about.

Not the worst she'd had, by far, but she was still snappy by the end of her shift and James ended up bribing her with fresh pastries from the deli around the corner to put her in a better mood when she woke up. Neither of them was happy when she got pulled in for the Wednesday day shift, but she muscled through under the understanding she'd get the next two days off - no hustling to come in for days and any night shifts they'd find a cover for.

It was worth working the hectic day shift for that.

“James,” Ella had her eyes down, fixed on her phone as he glanced up from the sofa, doing a quick double take as he noted how she was dressed, the beep of his phone barely pulling his attention away as she looked up “I've shared my location with you, just so you know I'm not dead. Not going to lie, probably not going to be back tonight.”

She almost sounds nervous, so he chooses not to make it worse with judgment or his own opinion of Clyde as he quirks a brow with a cheeky smile at the little black dress, flattering but pretty modest, her hair up in a nicer version of the twist she's so fond of. “You look nice, relax.” he soothes, earning himself a kiss pressed to the top of his head as she passes.

It would usually be a manageable walk, but she's not about to risk it in heels so springs for a cab. Thankfully, it's the right call, judging by the rain that sweeps in when they're about halfway there - the short dash to the door a lot less hellish than if she'd got caught walking in that weather.

It doesn't take much to spot Clyde, watching the door with a spirit in hand. Ella tries not to smile as she makes her way over and she sees the slight frown flit across his expression for just a second before he's standing as if he didn't recognize her at first glance.

“Ms. Bentley,” her smile breaks through at that as he presses a kiss to her cheek, pulling out her chair in a move that would usually have her rolling her eyes. But with him, it doesn't come across like a ploy to come across better, it comes across like habit or another subtle example of the power he oozes - it's almost endearing.

“No need to be all formal now, Clyde.” There's a teasing edge to Ella’s voice, though her nerves are well hidden to the average person it comes with the territory of crime that he can pick them up a mile away, that less polished side of him admittedly enjoying it probably a bit too much.

“You look gorgeous,” it's almost growled, Clyde catching her gaze because he knows it'll get her to blush, even if she manages to keep her other reactions in check.

“Thank you... It's high praise coming from you, handsome as ever.” he can't help the way his smile grows at that, almost able to see it on her face as she cringes as if her words are 'too much. “Sorry, I'm a little rusty...” it's almost a grumble, the slightest hint of amusement laced through it like humor is her go-to defense as she distracts herself with the menu.

“Surely, you're not out of practice at dating. Aside from the endearing personality...” he makes a discrete sweeping gesture at her that prompts a brief chuckle from her. “I'm surprised you could make the time for me.”

That earns him a laugh, even if she keeps the volume down. “Truthfully, it's been years since I went on a date. It's a hazard of work.” He makes a noise in his throat that sounds like he knows all too well what she means, the stuffiness finally fading away again.

Thankfully, by the time they leave, the weather has cleared up somewhat - it’s no longer raining at least. As they step out into the street, Clyde has a firm arm around her waist, glancing questioningly at his Rolls Royce almost to ask if she's coming with him or waiting for a cab. When she makes no effort to disentangle herself, instead almost tucking herself more firmly against his side, he feels the slight rush of achievement. Things rarely don't go his way, but he's still proud this was something that stayed true to that statement.

A near-perfect gentleman the whole drive - aside from the hand resting heavily, easily, on Ella’s knee like it was the natural thing for him to do. The walk up to his apartment is much the same, polite hand on the small of her back to guide her, but it's settled just a smidge lower than could be deemed safely good manners.

As Clyde closes the door behind them, she's shifting almost awkwardly in the hall as if unsure of where to go - or even what to do with herself, if he's assuming correctly that the thing, she does with pressing at her wrists is a nervous tic - but he's all too happy to lead, jacket hung up and loosening his tie as he steps around her leisurely.

“I believe I made you a promise,” he may have only tested it a couple of times, but he assumes right that it has a blush slowly burning despite her keeping her expression and stance calm, prompting a small smirk as he moves to ease her against his chest by his grip at her waist. “You play the ballbuster well, but I'm beginning to like the real you more.” He feels her bristle slightly at the idea the burning-faced tongue-tied bag of nerves is the 'real' her, a breath of a chuckle against her neck as he casually cages her between the wall and his firm chest.

“Make no mistake Stewart, I 'play' at nothing. Just because you caught me on the back foot a few times—” He cuts her off with a demanding kiss, tongue teasing along the crease of her lips as he coaxes her to let him in, wasting no time once she does in deepening the kiss and making her head spin. Clyde can't help the smirk that tugs ever so slightly at his lips when he feels her knees go weak, relishing the way one of her hands grazes the back of his neck before sinking into his hair with a gentle tug.

Caging her in his arms, pressing her tightly against his chest, he lifts her just that little bit to where she can barely skim the ground, walking them both with determination and purpose into the bedroom. When he finally lets Ella get her feet properly on the floor again, pulling back only slightly to nose at where the neckline of her dress had firmly kept any cleavage under wraps but given him free rein of every inch of her throat and clavicle, something he takes advantage of in the form of the occasional nip of his teeth.

It takes a second, but he notices the drag of her hand down his chest, teasing over the buttons of his shirt as she passes until she cups his aching crotch in her palm, eliciting a sharp inhale from him before he's mouthing at the sensitive point behind her ear as one large hand easily circles her neck, exerting the barest amount of pressure but it's enough to pull a mewl from those lips.

If only based on her face, she seems floaty, heart hammering at giving over control. But her hands tell a different story, working with measured assurance to release him from the confines of the fabric. Clyde can't help but grind out a low, “Fuck...” nipping at her earlobe when she takes him in hand with the same confident finesse, he's watched her wield behind the bar. Palm twisting over the sensitive head to slick him with the pre-cum and ease the strokes that have his chest heaving as he shucks off the shirt

When they reach the edge of the bed, he tries to turn the tables, but a firm plant of her heel has him pausing. Almost allowing her to nudge him till he drops to sit on the edge, planting slow worshipping presses of her lips along a shoulder, taking her time as she moves lower, the hand from his hair trailing to follow the same path until the gentle noise of one knee then the other hitting the rug perks his ears.

The way Ella’s looking up at him through her lashes is anything but nervous, stroking his ego when he remembers just how flustered he can make her. Another reminder, though far from needed, of his power over those around him. But his mind quickly decides there's something more important to focus on as he feels the slow stroke of her hand that's joined by the drag of her tongue before pulling him achingly slowly into the heat of her mouth. The urge to shiver when he feels nestled deep in her throat, nose pressed tight against his pelvis, is strong - but as she starts to move, his focus is on the hand that fists in her hair, the other still laying around her throat as he feels himself move within her.

Without exerting much pressure, it spurs her on, the steady swirl of her tongue making his grip tighten in her hair as she moves faster, hollowing her cheeks as the hand cradling his sac feels them tighten, taking him as deep as she can when he unravels, swallowing around him as he comes in ropes down her throat. “Fuckin' hell....” the hand in her hair moves to smooth through the strands as she seems in no hurry, tongue dragging gently along the underside until she releases him with a quiet pop to sit back on her haunches.

Cradling her cheek in a hand, dragging his thumb along her bottom lip, he watches that slightly dazed look flit across her eyes. “More than just a gorgeous smile, good girl.” the edge of the growl to his voice has her barely hiding the sharp intake of breath.

“Up,” Clyde's command is firm, steadying her by moving his grip to her waist as she gets gingerly to her feet, near dragging her to stand to flush against him between his knees, carefully easing down the zip of her dress as slow as he can, purely to feel the way her excited trembling increases as he nears the end of the zip. A tug at the end of the track has it pooling around her feet, though she doesn't seem that fazed to be left in heels and the silky Brazilian cut knickers. “Well, that's a pleasant surprise...” his words are muffled against her skin as he drags open-mouthed kisses over the swell of her breast, shamelessly holding her to him by a firm grip at her rear. The only crack in her composure is a moan carried on a breath when he catches a nipple between his teeth just on that line between pleasure and pain.

It's oddly graceful, the way Clyde pulls back and twists, bringing Ella to land on the bed and allowing him to hover above her. “Shh, I've got you,” the words send a shiver through her that has her sinking her teeth into her lip as he eased the silky material down her legs, shuffling out the last of his barely-hanging-on clothes. The warning she got was a firm trailing of hands from her hips, down her thighs till they rested on her knees - the next she knew, he'd manhandled them apart and settled his shoulders between her thighs as he proved his tongue wasn't just talented as a wordsmith. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had her tumbling over that edge of bliss, a firm suck at her bundle of nerves finally prompting an almost choked whine of his name as she tensed, trying to re-muster the brainpower to move away as he kept up his sweet torture despite her sensitivity, dragging another mind blanking orgasm from her with a huskily spoken stream of encouragement “Come on, you can give me one more.”, shifting to press himself more tightly against his nook between her thighs as he built up to a third - only then drawing back with a self-satisfied smirk when her voice sounded on the verge of sobbing. “Too much, too much. Please, Clyde, stop,” a chuckle washed over her skin as he climbed her body to catch her in a dominating kiss that felt like it set every nerve in her alight.

Clyde swallowed down Ella’s high-pitched moans as he worked a finger into her heat, swiftly adding another as he worked to make sure she could handle him. That consideration didn't last long as he flipped her, Ella moving fast enough to messily get her knees under her and an arm to stop her face from hitting the mattress at least. That stability was short-lived as she heard the crack of skin on skin, jolting her forward slightly as he moved behind her, making a pleased hum at what she assumed was the already red mark on her backside from his handprint.

Clyde was in no hurry as he slid his cock into her, a firm grip on her hips as he took a second to savor being buried to the hilt rather than watching her from the other side of the bar. He walked his knees apart, nudging hers together before he set an almost brutal pace, his ego relishing the way she babbled his name amongst wanton moans and pleas not to stop. One hand slid up her spine, pushing her shoulders lower before winding into her hair to tug it slightly and prompt a hiss-of-not-pain from her before he felt her flutter around his length, taking all his self-control not to fill her up that damn second as he chased his release, the speed of his thrusts increasing.

But just as he felt that wave of pleasure cresting, he pulled out sharply, pulling a breath through his teeth as he gave a slight tug on her hair to direct her to lie down, head tilted back off the edge of the bed. Despite the flash of annoyed expression at him directing her like a damn horse, Ella quickly got the message, relaxing her throat as she wrapped her lips around the angry tip of his cock as he fists it before nearly slamming his pelvis against her chin. His movements were forceful, firmly chasing his pleasure as she let him dictate the speed, swallowing him down as he came and nearly collapsed forward onto her - it only took a couple of insistent taps at his hip before he with Clyde so she could sit up and swallow to get her breath back.

'Sitting up was probably a generous description, more propped on the elbow of a shaking arm as he joined her back on the bed, sucking marks lazily along her neck and clavicle as she clung to him, the slight drag of nails on his back threatening to overwhelm his exhaustion. He quirked a brow as she made a move to get up, dragging her back against his chest by an arm around her waist and a low-spoken “Where do you think you're going?” the breathy burst of laughter from her making him smile slightly where he'd buried his face in her hair. Propping himself up to catch her gaze, his back to that level of observation that unnerved people and made him as successful as he was. “You're goin' nowhere sweetheart.” the husky tinge to his voice had her chewing on her lip, unable or unwilling to tear her eyes from him “Get some rest, I'm not done with you yet.”

If she'd been more coherent, she'd probably have caught the ominous note to that. Instead, she was all too happy to listen, prompting a rumbling noise of amusement later when she woke up first and got a little creative with his wake-up call - not that he was complaining.

It was late the following evening before Ella eventually made it home, already curled up and dead to the world by the time James came home from work. Admittedly, he may have curled up a little tighter to her, glad she was home safe and sound despite the reassurance of her location just a click away on his phone.

It was a few days later while pottering around the city doing long procrastinated errands, that Frank eventually broached the subject of her date - using the ins of her excitedly asking about his. “How'd it go?” he asked carefully, relaxing slightly at the snort of laughter that bubbled out of her.

“Well, despite being rusty as hell - it didn't go too bad. We had some laughs, and went somewhere nice for dinner that was surprisingly low-key...” she shrugged, fighting a smile as he fixed her with a look like he expected her to continue.

“C’mon, I doubt you want all the details.” it came out laced with laughter as she nudged him with her shoulder as they made their way along the narrow sidewalk.

“Is it bad that I kind of do?” James asked, at last, keeping his eyes firmly ahead with a very slight frown on his face. “Someone I care deeply about is getting cozy with a mob boss. Surely, you can understand my concern?” there's a resigned sigh at the end of his question, prompting Ella to clutch his hand tightly.

“Thank you. But I'm a big girl... You don't have to worry, all right? You just focus on wooing that stunner some more - only you would manage to pick up a date after a hook-up, who also works nights.” Her laugh is infectious, prompting James to jokingly look bashful, at least somewhat reassured.

Failing all else, she at least wasn't shutting him out, so he'd have plenty of opportunity to keep an eye on her. Plus, he'd already seen that Stewart had future bookings, so he'd be able to work to try and get a read on him as well.

Three further months, four hurried coffee dates, two encounters in the back of that damn Rolls Royce, and every extra shift Ella could get her grubby little mitts on.

That's what got her to the place to be able to tour the Starling Properties' new apartments, having finally decided to move out as a push to James to get serious with his lady. The same one who had since met Ella, and who had been incredibly accommodating about giving Ella a chance to make herself scarce or dragging Rob back to her little studio.

She'd packed her bags, told Rob her plans, his lady was moving in - all was going to plan. Till she got the call on the walk to work. There was a delay in construction, they would have to push back her move-in date. When James instantly jumped at the suggestion, he halts his plans till they could give her a new date, she almost aggressively refused “Worst case scenario, I'll get a long stay Airbnb. It'll be fine, it'll be grand.” she responded firmly on their way out the staff locker area, unsure if she was just trying to convince him or herself as well.

Never one to dwell too much, Ella took advantage of the quiet nighttime at the bar to prop her phone out of sight and casually browse listings. She'd either find a month-to-month or bounce between motels and Airbnb until the property managers got their damn construction back on schedule and could give her a new move-in date.

A smooth voice snapped her gaze from the screen to the speaker, hurriedly worn customer service expression faltering slightly at the bearded face smiling cheekily back at her “Good evening, Mister Stewart.” keeping her demeanor professional as always, “What can I help you with, sir?”

Clyde enjoyed Ella calling him that far too much, apparently breaking from habit to opt for brandy as he cast a glance back at the small group seating themselves at a table, adding on a round of beers for them.

He remembered how excited she'd been, finally getting a place when she'd let him for coffee after doing the paperwork. Once he knew it was one of the Starlings, he chanced his luck - calling in a favor to Alto Starling to come up with a way to stall the move. It'd give him the perfect chance to swoop in like the hero, bring her just a little more under his influence and it wouldn't be half bad to come home to someone after a long day.

“Looking forward to moving? Been meaning to get you a housewarming gift - maybe a nice set of tumblers,” he said reaching to brush his fingertips along the back of Ella’s hand as she set his glass on the bar. Ella let out a slow exhale, shoulders dropping a little.

“Delayed, I'll sort something in the meantime though. It'll all be worth it when I get to move into my bright little space with its views,” she smiled brightly, the excitement still bubbling just below the surface despite the bad news.

Clyde arranged his features into the picture of sympathy, taking a sip of his drink as he appeared to think for a moment before speaking slowly, casually. “You could stay at my place, in the meantime. I'm sure there's enough storage in the guest room for your things,” he added the second half at the way the color blanched slightly from her face.

Ella seemed to stumble over her words, frowning slightly as she focused on pulling the table's beers and setting them securely on a tray. “You sure? Wouldn't want to intrude…” she'd barely finished speaking before he was waving off her comment with a slight smile

“Of course, you won’t be at all. It'd be a much shorter walk for you after a good night’s sleep, as a bonus.”

She tried to convey with her expression what she couldn't say at work - which would have been to admonish him for being a dirty bastard while she was trying to work. Rounding the bar, he followed her to the table as she put on that polite smile and set the glasses down in front of each of the men, grateful that they continued their conversations and essentially allowed her to move unnoticed. Only a couple of them silently took note of the way Clyde caught her elbow on the way past, dropping his head to speak close to her ear before she was briskly making her way back behind the bar, a flush fading from her cheeks as he joined them.

The group would thankfully be gone not long after, meaning that the bar was once again quiet when James wandered through for his break and a probably unhealthy amount of espresso. Letting the machine whir and brew, she leaned her forearms on the bar with a grin “Meantime accommodation is sorted, so you now have no excuses to move in with that gorgeous girlfriend of yours.” Ella commented happily, setting the cup filled with rich coffee in front of him, and returning to the inventory stock list she'd been busying herself with most of the night.

He perched at the bar; eyes closed as he took a long sip before apparently having the energy to interact. Perhaps it was a focus problem instead, it was archive-clearing night and that was always a bore - even for a star employee like James. He quirked a brow, watching her over the rim of his cup as if prompting her to continue, “Clyde offered his guest room.” she had been expecting concern, but the scoff caught her off guard “Chance to move you in... and he offers the guest room? He’s keeping his bloody options open?” There's a coldness to his voice the wariness had given way to firm dislike at some point.

Ella bristles slightly, a gentle frown tugging at her expression, “Or maybe, he just knows fine well that this is a temporary thing, that I'm far too excited for my new place to even entertain moving in with him?” there's more bite to her words than she originally intended.

Huffing out a sigh, she softens her features. “Sorry... didn't mean to snap,” she murmurs. James suddenly leans across the bar to catch one of her hands in his, his gaze saying he's sincere when she raises hers to meet it. “I'm sorry, that was out of line. Perhaps I just think so highly of you, nobody is going to be 'worthy' in my eyes.” Clyde’s gentle smile coaxes one from Ella in return. As he finishes his Joe, James flicks through the day's newspaper as Ella sets about turning all the displayed bottles the right way around.

“She'll be fine.” the reassurance came from the woman who hopped down to wrap her arms around him, speaking against his back. Logically, he knew she was right. It was just the 'Stewart' variable to the equation that had him unable to stop it from ruminating in his head.

She was met in the below street garage by Clyde who was dressed unusually casually considering she'd only ever seen him in a suit and well... nothing. Admittedly, more than a little distracting. She must not have hidden her look of confusion very well because he chuckled as he leaned on the room, essentially blocking the open door - Ella guessed intentionally since he didn't seem to mind how she had to move against him just to get out of the damn seat. “Good manners figured would come help with your things,” he explained, following close as she moved to the boot.

A couple of clatters and she was jumping slightly to grab it to sling it shut again, stood between two large rolling suitcases, a garment bag draped over her arm with the hotel logo on it. “You didn't need to Clyde, I've moved just fine on my plenty of times.” he raised a brow, gaze lifting from the cases as if asking where the rest was. Ella looked vaguely amused as she shrugged “Sill not out the habit of living light I guess.” was all she offered by way of explanation, putting them back-to-back as she extended the handles, pushing the pair with ease, stopping a few feet from the lift when she realized he was still leaning on the car like his brain was catching up.

He'd slung her a key, she'd shared her shift schedule with him, and she was unpacked in under an hour before they relaxed on the sofa with a takeaway to iron out the details.

“Rent.” It wasn't a question, thankfully sat shoulder to shoulder so avoiding a staring contest over the terms.

“None.” ”Clyde.” ”Ella.” 

Silence stretched as she resisted the urge to comment, relenting to being the first to turn her head as she nudged her shoulder against his, prompting him to meet her gaze as she smiled.

“All right, every couple weeks I have some guys over for poker night... personal bartender would be a nice touch, deal?”

Shifting slightly, he slung an arm along the back of the sofa, discretely drawing her closer as he settled. “I know you were worried about your night shifts disturbing me,” he was speaking carefully, not wanting to spook her but also well aware there was a perfect opportunity to draw her a little further into his net by appealing to her caring side. She nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue as he dragged a hand down his face in a tired manner, slowing over his beard “But, I don't exactly work nine-to-five either, I may need to ask some favors.” he felt frustrated and groan before he heard it, a muttered comment of how that phrase never ended well.

Sitting forward, cutting all physical contact with him, she turned slightly with a serious expression “Such as?” ”People at the bar must talk to you a lot, and may need you to listen out for trouble. Or patch up some minor scrapes.” he said it so offhand, watching her reaction carefully as her shoulders relaxed and she settled back with a small 'oh, all right then'

Wait, no, that wasn't the reaction he was expecting. The confusion must have shown on Clyde's face because Ella was talking as if it were obvious “Oh, were you expecting pearl-clutching? Didn't always work in fancy hotels, you know. Only got the fancy mixologist title when I came to Boston.” not noticing the way he was watching her like he was properly seeing her for the first time. Clyde had assumed she bounced between upscale hotels, a bit as Frank had done before settling in Boston. She carried herself in such a way that she didn't seem out of place there. It threw him for a bit of a loop to learn that her work history was a bit rough around the edges.

Trailing his fingertips up her neck, watching her shiver with a small smirk, Clyde couldn't help but chuckle at the change. The more he uncovered about her that painted her as a tough workaholic, the more his ego preened at how flustered he could make her. She seemed alone, happily so, aside from James - it was like good luck was serving her up on a silver platter for him.

It was a rare weekend night that she wasn't working, Ella having taken full advantage of a quiet apartment to relax on the guest bed with a good book - foregoing the usual sweatpants and hoodie for an old t-shirt and cotton shorts. It was probably a little weird, he'd seen her all shades of naked, but they were essentially flatmates - so she'd just automatically started behaving accordingly.