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molly

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By all accounts, Lee has no cause for complaint. Even rough days in Darrow, ones where he's spent an entire afternoon trying to get a handle on a specific bit of court case precedence that's been eluding him for weeks, are better than his worst days on Galactica. He's not fighting for his life here, running and watching his back at every turn. He can makes mistakes in Darrow and not worry about some metal motherfrakker— as Starbuck so eloquently put it once— blowing him away.

In a lot of ways, Darrow is what he'd spent so long fighting for.

In a lot of other ways, it's the worst parts of what they'd hoped to leave behind.

By the time Lee reaches High Gate Terrance, he's frakking exhausted. Not in his bones, like after a dogfight, but mentally. He doesn't think he can even look at another book tonight without losing his mind. Reaching into his pocket for the key to the front door of the building, Lee yawns, even though he knows he's not going to be able to fall asleep once he gets inside for hours yet.

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It's been a long fucking day, but the kind that Molly enjoys, where she actually feels like she's accomplishing something and is getting recognized for it. The latter, of course, is far less important, but she does have her future to consider, too. When it's never too far from her mind that this is her only chance to have one, she wants to make the most of it.

All in all, it leaves her in good spirits as she heads back to her apartment, messenger bag slung over her shoulder and hands lifting to pull her hair up off her neck. The walk is a pretty short one, but the late summer heat makes it a little less pleasant than she usually finds it. Still, the weather isn't enough to dampen her mood, especially not when she catches sight of Lee nearing the building at the same time she does.

"Hello, neighbor," she says with a grin, elbowing him once she's reached his side. "Don't tell me you're falling asleep already. The sun's still up."

"When you've been reading legal texts for four hours, then we'll talk," Lee says, pausing with his keys still in his hand, and he looks over at Molly with a crooked smile. He hadn't expected to run into anyone he knew while heading in, but he's glad to see her, either way.

"Headed in from work?" he asks, and unlocks the door, holding it open for her.

"Got it in one," Molly says brightly, like she's impressed, as she steps past him into the building. "How could you tell?" She's sure it's self-explanatory, but that hardly matters. She's out of work now, and having run into Lee, has no intention of letting him call it a night this early, four hours of legal texts or not. "Come on, you aren't really gonna turn in already, are you?"

"Why do I feel like if I even try, you're going to give me crap for it?" he asks as he follows Molly inside. There used to be a time when he was more than capable of getting by on just a few hours of sleep a night, but after living in Darrow so long, he's gotten used to not having to be up for five A.M. briefings. It's a freedom he hasn't had in a long time.

"Because I probably would," Molly says, glancing at him as she heads over to push the button for the elevator. "See, you're catching on." She's not entirely sure why she and Lee never spent more time together before, or how they never even realized they lived in the same building, but whatever has their paths crossing more frequently, she's happy about it. "You want to have a drink or something?"

"Sure. You know, since you're not giving me much choice," Lee replies. The truth is, it's a better option than anything else he had in mind tonight, which likely would have ended up with him drinking on his own in his apartment.

Molly's already pressed the button for the elevator, but he finds himself pressing it just after she does, looking over at her and expecting a to question it.

"Makes me feel like I'm a part of the process," he explains.

"Hey, just as long as you aren't one of those people who thinks pushing the button more than once makes the elevator get here faster," Molly says, head tipping to the side. She wasn't actually going to question it — she's given him enough shit already, she thinks, and now that he's agreed to come up for a drink, doesn't really see the need to keep doing so — but she isn't just about to ignore his mentioning it, either. Predictably, it's the same thing that happens. A few moments later, the elevator doors slide open in front of them, and she grins at him as she steps inside. "Now you can rest assured that you were part of the process of our getting upstairs."

"You mean that wasn't completely me?" he asks, glancing at the still lit button for a moment before he follows her onto the elevator.He doesn't actually think that's the case, but Molly started off their conversation teasing and Lee's not about to be outdone. Besides, he if he can endure it from a group of rowdy pilots, then he can endure it from anyone.

"Now you've shattered the illusion.'

"Alright, if it'll help, we can say it was all you," Molly says, rolling her eyes, though it's clearly just out of amusement. If she actually thought it mattered, this would be a fairly different conversation. "I mean, shattering that illusion — I honestly just don't know if I could live with myself." Inside the elevator, she hits the button for her floor, then waits as the doors slide closed. "That one, though, that was all me."

"We'll let you have that one. It's only fair," Lee replies, "Wouldn't want you to feel left out."

It's a ridiculous conversation, he knows, but on the plus side, he's feeling less foggy than he did when he made it back to the building, his head a jumble of legalese that he's going to have to recall again soon. It's been so long since college that he's starting to worry that he's lost the knack for all of this studying.

"Oh, good," Molly replies with a too-bright smile, barely managing to bite back a laugh. It's completely fucking meaningless, of course, when it's an elevator that would function the same way no matter what, but he started it, kind of, and she has no trouble at all playing along. Besides, it's only a matter of moments before the elevator doors slide open — fortunately, there are no other stops on the way up — and then she steps out into the hall, realizing only then that she should maybe have made sure he didn't need to stop at his place for any reason first. It's not like there's a long way to go if he needs to, though, so she ignores it for now. He'll say something, she's sure, if he needs to. Fishing her keys out of her purse so she can unlock her door, she says, "I don't know how my self-esteem could have handled it, otherwise."

She's got more than enough of that, and has never done anything to try to hide it. Most of the time, at least.

"Somehow, I think you would have managed," he says, and waits for her to fish out her keys and unlock the door. He could probably stand to head back to his own apartment first, if only to drop off his bag, but they're already here now, so he doesn't see much point. Besides, he'll probably only stick around for a drink or two; they both have places to be in the morning.

And the truth is, he's finding that he's lost the knack for the combination of heavy drinking and early mornings since coming to Darrow.

"If I choose to take that as a compliment, is that proving your point?" Molly asks, feigning seriousness, her nose wrinkling slightly as she glances over at him. All things considered, it doesn't make much difference one way or the other, especially with something so ridiculous having brought the subject up in the first place. It's just never really had to be a concern of hers, at least, in most instances, and she doesn't want to think about the situations where that's not the case when, really, she prefers it this way. She could think too little of herself and be bogged down by all the shit she's been through and done, or she could keep going, the way she always has.

Turning the key in the lock, she pushes the door open, gesturing with one arm for him to go inside. "And here we are."

"Thanks," he says, and walks inside when she opens the door, stopping on the other side to hold it open for her to walk in behind her. He doesn't know why he expected Molly's apartment to be any different than his, but aside from a few things she's done differently, the layout looks about the same.

"And I think you are, actually. So thanks, for that."

"You're very welcome," Molly says brightly, shooting him a grin as she steps inside. "Anytime, really." Once the door's closed behind them, she heads over to the couch just long enough to set her bag down beside it. Chances are good that, provided she doesn't drink too much while Lee's here, she'll wind up trying to get some work done later, but for now, she just doesn't want it to get in the way. "So, drinks? What would you like?"

There's an awkward moment where Lee stands in the entranceway, not sure whether or not he should head in the direction of the couch or the kitchen or offer to help. He opts for taking a few steps toward the kitchen, his bag still slung over his shoulder.

"I'm really not picky," he admits, "But if it wasn't made using repurposed pipes from planes, then I can guarantee it won't be the worst I've had."

"I can't say I've ever had repurposed pipe booze, but I think this should be at least a step up from that," Molly replies, brow arched, opening the refrigerator and taking out a couple bottles. "The finest alcohol that my incredibly generous government salary will pay for." She doesn't bother trying to hide her sarcasm, but it's clearly not something that really bothers her. These days, she does alright for herself, and she's never been in it for the money anyway, her line of work not exactly where the big bucks are. Reaching into a cabinet for a couple of glasses, she says, "Well, I'm having a gin and tonic, but there should be a bottle of scotch in there, too."

"If anyone ever tries to convince you that it doesn't taste anything like engine grease, then they're a liar," Lee tells her. He was lucky that he was usually able to drink something a little better than what Galactica's deck crew came up with, really. There was a limited amount of the good stuff in the Fleet, and after awhile, ambrosia became one of the perks of being an office. He finally sets his bag down on the floor, making his way to the kitchen.

"Scotch is good, though. I don't think me and gin really get along too well."

"Scotch it is," Molly replies, taking the bottle out of the refrigerator before letting the door swing shut. "Ice?" As she asks, she opens the freezer to get a tray of ice cubes, putting a few in her own glass. It's been kind of a while, she realizes, since she actually had company. More often, she goes out, either to a bar or to one of her friends' apartments, making her kind of relieved that she still keeps this place pretty well stocked. It's habit, though, as much as anything else.

"And I'll have to keep that in mind. I mean, if anyone ever tries to offer me something they made using part of an old pipe."

"Uh, two cubes, thanks," he replies, and maybe it's been a while since she's had someone over to her apartment, but he can barely remember the last time he went to anyone else's. Ilithyia, maybe, though Lee tries not to think about that too much. It's not something that's been common for him in Darrow, and it still hurts, even though he ought to be used to losing people by now.

He pushes the thought out of his mind, focusing on the moment.

"Also, I think that here, someone offering you something like that is probably a sign to get the frak away from them."

"Probably," Molly agrees, biting back a laugh. She's not exactly in the habit of accepting drinks from strangers, and can't imagine why anyone she knows would be offering her something like that. On the other hand, she thinks it would be crazy to rule anything out here. This city has done some fucked up things, and while it might seem for now like everything is steady, some semblance of normal, she wouldn't want to take what they have here for granted, either.

It's not really a possibility that matters much now, though, unlikely enough that it doesn't seem worth dwelling on. Putting two ice cubes into his glass, she opens the bottle of scotch first, holding the glass out to him once she's poured. "For you. And this definitely doesn't taste like engine grease."

"Good to know," he says, and take the glass from her and takes a sip, nodding. It's not exactly like the booze they have in the Fleet, but he's found that scotch probably comes the closest of anything he's had in Darrow. It would make more sense for him to prefer something else now, after so long with such a limited selection, but the familiarity is almost comforting.

"I really like what you've done with the place," Lee adds, mostly for something to say.

"Oh, thank you," Molly says with a half-teasing grin. She is actually fairly pleased with her apartment and the way she's settled into it over the past two and a half years, making it a home, the only one she knows she'll ever have. She has a feeling, though, that it's meant more as small talk, and it's hard not to find that a little amusing. Maybe this sort of thing ought to be awkward, at least while they're just standing in the kitchen while she fixes them drinks, not quite sure what to talk about, but it's rare that she really feels anything like that. Besides, she doubts it will last for long.

Her own drink poured, she lifts it in a little mock toast, then starts for the doorway, nodding for him to follow. "Come on, let's go sit down. Better than standing around here."

"Not afraid I'm going to fall asleep on the couch?" Lee asks, following, though the lethargy he'd been feeling back at the front door of the building is mostly gone now. Both the journey upstairs and the circumstances of evening so far have done a lot to leave him more alert.

"No, I'm not worried," Molly says, smiling at him over her shoulder as she makes her way to the living room. "I won't let that happen." If there's just the slightest trace of something a little more than teasing in her voice, she isn't thinking much of it at all, the response coming easily, except to be vaguely aware that it's been a while since that was the case. That's one of the things she likes about spending time with Lee, though. She feels like herself -- not like the girl who dated a serial killer and almost died, but the person she was before that, the one she hasn't been sure if she would ever be again. It's kind of a goddamn relief, except she really doesn't want to dwell too much on that part of it.

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