AN: Words: 3k+ (Let me know if there are any mistakes.)
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"Counting my drinks already? We haven't even exchanged names."
Chloe smirked, resting her elbow on the bar. Her fingers brushed her glass.
"I have a habit of noticing things," she said.
Alex finally turned, slow and measured. His eyes were calm, unreadable. Then a small smile played at the corner of his lips.
"Alex."
He extended a hand.
"I guess you already know that."
Chloe took it.
"Chloe. And yes, who doesn't know you? My daughter is actually a big fan of your work. Spiderman is her favourite comic."
Their hands met in a firm shake, brief but lingering just enough to hint at curiosity on both sides.
"Nice to meet you, Chloe-who-notices-things," Alex said, letting his fingers slip away last.
"You always that formal with strangers in bars?" she asked.
"Only the interesting ones."
Chloe tilted her head, letting her eyes wander over his face like she was inspecting a painting she wasn't sure she believed was real.
"Interesting, huh? Is that your opener?"
"It's not an opener. It's an observation."
She took a sip of her drink, watching him over the rim.
"You don't look like a man who drinks this much on a Tuesday night."
"And you don't look like a woman who walks into bars alone."
"I don't. Usually."
"Something special about tonight?"
"Maybe." Chloe tapped her glass. "You?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned back toward his drink, swirling the amber liquid.
"I needed a little distance from work," he said. "Clear the noise."
"What kind of noise does a guy like you deal with?" she asked, voice light, flirt dancing at the edges.
"The loud kind. Expectations. Pressure. People who smile too easily."
"You don't like smiles?"
"I like the honest ones."
Chloe smiled. "You think mine's not?"
"I think yours is hiding something," he said.
She raised a brow. "You don't even know me."
"I don't have to. That's the thing about masks. The best ones don't hide the face. They hide the eyes."
Chloe leaned in slightly, drawn forward before she realized.
"You always talk like that? All riddles and poetry?"
Alex gave a soft laugh. "Only when someone's smart enough to keep up."
"And you think I am?"
"I know you are. You walked straight up to me without hesitation, played it cool, and haven't looked at your phone once. You're not here to waste time."
Chloe's lips curled at the corners. "Maybe I just liked your face."
Alex looked at her then, really looked.
"You liked the mystery more."
Chloe didn't flinch. But something in her chest tightened.
"Okay," she said. "Maybe I did."
"And now?"
"Still deciding."
Alex held her gaze, his voice softer now, slower.
"That's the problem with people who notice things. Eventually, they start asking questions. And not all questions want answers."
Chloe's eyes flicked to his hand resting on the bar. No ring. Not that she expected one.
"So what kind of answers are off-limits, Alex?"
"The ones that cost too much to give."
She nodded, thoughtful. "You always this cryptic?"
"No," he said, smiling faintly. "Only when someone's trying to read me while pretending not to."
Chloe laughed, a quiet, real sound. She leaned back, amused and annoyed all at once.
"You think I'm pretending?"
"I think you're better at the game than most. But you're still playing."
Chloe narrowed her eyes, intrigued now in a way she hadn't expected to be.
"You like being hunted, don't you?"
Alex sipped his drink. "Only by someone who knows when to stop."
They both sat in silence for a moment, the music from the jukebox humming low and bluesy in the background.
Chloe said, "You're hard to pin down."
Alex glanced sideways. "I prefer to stay in motion."
She raised her glass toward his.
"To motion, then."
He tapped hers gently.
"To the detectives who drink whiskey and ask dangerous questions."
They drank.
Chloe lowered her glass slowly, her smile fading just a little. Her eyes locked on his, sharp now, more focused.
"I never said I was a detective," she said quietly.
Alex didn't miss a beat.
"You didn't have to."
She tilted her head. "That right?"
He nodded, still calm, still relaxed.
"I have a photographic memory. Faces stick."
Chloe narrowed her eyes, unsure if she liked where this was going.
"So you've seen me before?"
Alex met her gaze evenly.
"Hot Tub High School."
Chloe blinked. "You're kidding."
"Topless. Pool scene. You came out of the water with that 'what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here' look. Iconic, in a very specific kind of way."
She groaned, sitting back. "God, I did that when I was nineteen. Low on rent, new to LA, didn't think anyone would remember it."
"I didn't forget."
"That's flattering. Sort of."
Alex smiled faintly. "But that's not the only place I saw you."
Chloe watched him closely now.
"Three months ago. Front page of the LA Chronicle. Serial murder task force. You were listed as the lead detective."
Chloe didn't answer right away.
Alex leaned in slightly, voice softer.
"You were standing over a crime scene photo board. Arm crossed. Same expression. Like the whole world was a puzzle that just needed one more piece."
She sat very still.
"So you really just walk into a bar and recognize cops on sight?"
"Only the ones who did nude scenes first."
She laughed despite herself, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."
"I try to be."
She looked at him again, longer this time. Trying to decide if he was dangerous or just irritatingly observant.
Maybe both.
Alex's gaze didn't waver. That small, unreadable smile lingered as he let the silence stretch, measured, not awkward. Controlled. Like everything he did. Then, casually, as if they'd been mid-conversation about weather or food trucks, he asked:
"You eaten yet?"
Chloe blinked, thrown slightly by the shift in tone.
"No," she said slowly. "Why?"
He nodded toward the door. "Because I know a place three blocks from here that makes steak the way it's supposed to be made. Charred. Juicy. Buttery."
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me to dinner?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
He tilted his head slightly. "On whether you're here as a cop… or as the woman who walked into this bar pretending she wasn't watching me before I even sat down."
Chloe didn't respond at first. She looked at her drink. At the bar. Then back to him. Weighing things. The way only detectives do when every move could open ten doors or close twenty others.
This was her chance to get closer to her target, and maybe over dinner, she'd get to ask a couple of questions in between their conversation. Well, that's what her cop mind said. But as for her regular woman mind, she was kinda impressed by their smooth conversation. It was as if they had known each other for months. Not to mention, his eyes... His subtle smile...
Finally, she set her glass down gently.
"I'm not here as a cop tonight."
Alex smiled. Not smug. Just... satisfied.
"Then I'm asking you to dinner."
Chloe took a slow breath and stood. "Steak better be as good as you say."
"It is."
"Lead the way."
He paid for their drinks, fixed his jacket, and they walked out of the bar.
...
[Back to Lopez and Lucy]
Chloe had her phone on, and they had heard everything they talked about.
Lopez watched them from the booth, her fingers tight around her untouched second drink. Chloe didn't even glance back at first, just stood, gave a casual nod to the bartender, and fell into step beside Alex like it wasn't a big deal. Like she hadn't just made first contact with a man, every security analyst in LA would warn you to never approach alone.
But right before they reached the door, Chloe glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes met Lopez's. Just for a second. A silent message was passed:
'I've got this.'
Then she was gone.
Lucy let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "She's not actually going to dinner with him, right? Like, dinner-dinner?"
Lopez didn't move, her eyes fixed on the door.
"She's going to get closer."
Lucy raised a skeptical brow. "You think he bought it? The whole casual drink, flirting vibe?"
Lopez finally looked away from the door. "He knew who she was the moment she sat down."
"Then why go with her?"
"Because people like Alex Wilson don't say no to games they think they can win. Or maybe he fell for her at first glance. Who knows?"
Lucy watched the door a second longer, then muttered, "Let's just hope she plays it better than he does."
Lopez grabbed her drink. "She'll be fine."
They both knew it was a lie. But it was the only one worth saying out loud. A few minutes later, they paid and left.
...
Outside, the air was cool and the usual. Streetlights, cars, people going their own way. Chloe walked beside Alex.
She glanced sideways at him. "No driver? No tinted SUV lurking nearby?"
Alex shook his head, hands tucked in his coat pockets. "I like to take a walk now and then. Clears my head. Besides, I'm not a fan of always being chauffeured around like I'm allergic to sidewalks."
She gave him a look. "You're worth billions, and you walk?"
"Money's not the problem. People are. Walking keeps me grounded."
Chloe raised a brow. "That a metaphor, or do you actually just like your cardio?"
He smirked. "Bit of both."
They passed a small bookstore with its lights still on. The window display was cluttered with old hardcovers and faded paperbacks. Chloe caught sight of a first edition of a newly launched book among the old ones, on a tilted shelf.
Alex noticed her glance. "You read much?"
She shrugged. "Not as much as I'd like. Life gets in the way. Work. A ten-year-old. Cases that don't close themselves."
He nodded. "You're a single mom?"
"Yeah. Trixie. She's scary smart. Obsessed with comic books and science. Wants to be an astrophysicist."
Alex smiled, something warm flickering through his gaze. "Sounds like she's going to run the world."
"She will," Chloe said with quiet certainty. "And if anyone gets in her way, I'll knock them down a flight of stairs."
He laughed, and the sound didn't feel rehearsed.
They rounded the corner, the neon sign of the steakhouse flickering ahead. The comforting smell of grilled meat wafted through the door as it opened for a pair of exiting patrons.
Alex held the door for her. She stepped inside, the soft clatter of silverware and low jazz greeting them.
The hostess glanced up, blinked once, then smiled. "Good evening, Mr. Wilson."
"Table in the back, if it's open," he said.
She nodded. "Always is for you."
They were led past a handful of full tables, older couples, business types, quiet diners. No one stared. Either they didn't recognize Alex or knew better than to bother him here.
The table was tucked away in a corner, half-shielded by a curtain of potted plants and a low wall. Private, but not claustrophobic.
Alex pulled out her chair without a word. Chloe sat, eyeing him.
"You make it hard to remember you're not some politician."
He took his seat across from her, unbuttoning his coat. "I hate politicians."
"But you play the role well."
He shrugged. "I learned early that charm's cheaper than a security detail."
A waiter arrived. No menus. Just a quiet, "The usual?"
"Yeah," Alex gave him a nod and then turned to Chloe.
"Oh, I'll have ribeye, medium," She ordered.
The waiter took the order and left.
Chloe sat back, hands folded. "Tell me something, Alex. Something real. No riddles. No rehearsed lines. Just... you."
Alex didn't answer right away. He reached for his water, took a slow sip, then set the glass down.
"I wake up every morning wondering when it's all going to fall apart."
Chloe blinked. That wasn't what she expected.
"Everything looks perfect from the outside," he continued. "Movies win awards. Studio profits triple. I make people cry in dark rooms, and they call it genius. But the truth is... I'm always waiting for the crack."
She didn't interrupt. She let him talk.
"I build these worlds on screen. Control every frame. Every word. Because outside the frame, life doesn't follow direction. And the more I succeed, the more I feel like I'm stealing time from something else. Something real."
Chloe was quiet for a long moment. Then she said softly, "You sound lonely."
Alex's smile was faint, but not fake. "Oh, no. It's just... You know, when you are alone in your own private space and you look at your past and present... You have these thoughts. Too many what-ifs. Some good, some bad."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Like, what if one day everything falls? My dad was a cop, and I looked up to him, but I had that fear... What if one day..." She didn't finish and paused for a moment. Then she continued. "After his death, I became a cop. Now, I wonder if my daughter thinks the same thing I thought back then. I sometimes fear... You know. What if..."
She paused again and took a deep breath...
"Well, look at me, getting all sentimental and boring," She chuckled softly.
Alex watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
"You're not boring, Chloe. You're honest. That's rare."
She gave a small laugh, not entirely believing him, but appreciating the sentiment. "You're good at saying the right things."
"I mean them."
She looked at him again, really looked. He doesn't look like a guy who just drank that much alcohol a few moments ago. His face looked calm and a little tired... Grounded. And a little bit less polished than the magazine covers made him seem. More human.
For a moment, she thought that Alex was innocent. But then her cop mind activated.
"You know, most men in your position don't come off this... grounded."
He shrugged. "Most men in my position have forgotten what it's like to feel uncertain."
"And you haven't?"
"I wake up with it."
Chloe sat back slightly, her fingers tracing the condensation on her water glass. "You ever think about walking away from all of it? Just... disappearing?"
"Every day," Alex said without pause. "But then I remember, I built something people believe in. Stories. Studios. A weird little empire. If I vanish, all that falls apart. Many people will become jobless. And maybe that sounds arrogant, but... It's true."
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I get that."
"You ever think about quitting?"
Chloe looked at her hands. "Sometimes. But then something happens. A victim's family gets closure. Or a kid writes me a letter thanking me for helping their case. And suddenly, it doesn't matter how tired I am. I keep going."
He nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "We're both stuck in jobs we didn't pick for comfort."
She smirked. "I didn't peg you for the 'noble responsibility' type."
"I'm not," he said. "But I do care, and you just met me today. Give it time. There are many things you don't know about me."
The waiter returned with their plates... his usual, a perfectly charred New York strip with roasted garlic and grilled asparagus. Hers, a ribeye, still sizzling on a black stone plate, with a side of mashed potatoes and a ramekin of peppercorn sauce.
They both muttered thanks, and the waiter poured two glasses of wine and then disappeared again.
Alex picked up his knife and cut into the steak. Chloe watched, then followed suit.
The first bite made her pause.
"Okay," she admitted. "That's not just good. That's ridiculous."
"I told you," he said between bites.
She tried the sauce next and closed her eyes briefly. "If I die tonight, I want this as my last meal."
"Noted. I'll tell your file."
She snorted. "You have a file on me?"
"Only in my head. I've got one on everyone."
"You really don't sleep much, do you?"
He took a sip of water and shook his head. "Not if I can help it."
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. The music played on. A couple across the room clinked glasses. The waiter passed once to check on them, then vanished again.
"So, aren't you a bit curious as to why I approach you?" Chloe asked out of curiosity. They have played enough word games. It's time to come to the real talk.
"Because I am handsome?" Alex smirked.
She rolled her eyes. "That, and maybe because..."
'What the hell?!' Alex thought. His survival instinct always remains active, and he caught a sense of danger. His senses screamed. He pushed all his focus toward the oncoming danger.
Then...
He moved.
Not in a way most people would notice. Just a slight shift of his boot under the table, smooth, calculated. Then a hard kick upward.
Her chair tilted violently.
Chloe hit the floor with a surprised grunt, her elbow catching the corner of the table, her instincts snapping into gear before her brain caught up.
A split second later, the window behind her shattered.
A bullet ripped through the air where her head had just been. Alex simply tilted his head to his left as the bullet zipped past his ears, striking the wall behind.
It took a few seconds for everyone to realize what had just happened.
"GET DOWN, NOW!" Chloe yelled. She didn't freeze. She rolled behind the table, heart hammering, hand instinctively going to her waist. Of course. No holster. She wasn't on duty. No gun.
Patrons screamed. Someone dropped a wine bottle. A man dove behind a booth. Silverware clattered. It was a mess.
As for Alex. He just sat in his chair, enjoying his food. He took a sip of wine and moved his head to his right this time. Another bullet zipped past his face, through that chaotic place. That sniper was 100% pro-veteran.
So far, Alex had never faced any danger or attack like this, so he didn't even know the effect of more than half of his skills. Right now, he noticed that he was able to read the bullet's trajectory, and his body was kinda moving on its own.
[Keen Observation + Rapid Adaptation + Survival awareness + Intuitive danger avoidance + Quick reflex] > All these passive skills were working together at the same time. Heck, Alex himself forgot that he had these skills.
So, he felt like playing Max Payne in the Matrix with Bullet Time power.
"You okay?" he asked, looking down at Chloe. "Sorry about that."
Chloe grabbed his hand and pulled him down.
"You insane? Get down."
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