AU: Port au Prince, Haiti

[onlyneed1shot]

Haiti is...hot. This is not something that is new to her; born in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, and raised in Columbia, she is well used to the heat. But sometimes, it is just hot and the only thing to do is to retire in the shade and turn on the air-conditioning.

Only...the air-conditioner at the hotel isn't working.

The water in the taps is almost the same temperature as the air, so there goes her normal fall-back plan of sitting on the edge of the bath with her feet in cold water. And, besides, she is working and needs a wall.

The only remaining realistic option is just to say hell with it, and strip.

So it is that on this day, Camille is standing in front of a wall-turned-workboard, taping a marker against her leg as she studies information and maps, dressed in nothing but an ivory bra and yellow knickers with her hair pinned up.







Okay, fine.

Yellow with purple flowers, if you must know.

Comments

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

The thought of saying 'no' in response crosses Dominic's mind, but he doesn't go through with it.

"It's nicer to get news in person, my dear."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

"Of course," Camille replies, just a little bit sarcastically. Still, if he's sorted that out, he is unlikely to get into trouble with...whoever it is that he actually works with. Which is a relief.

So she walks over and kisses him.

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

Not that he's complaining.

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

She would not impressed should he start to. And it really is too hot to keep kissing, and really too hot to hug him, but she has - in her way - been worried.

So she kneels (and the tiltes are cool under her knees) and hugs him. Just for a moment, with her head against his neck and eyes closed.

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

He presses a quick kiss to the side of her head, one hand on the nape of her neck.

And - very quietly: "Je t'aime."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

Just as softly, "Te quiero." Then, reluctantly, she moves away until she's sitting on her feet, looking up at him.

"I'll it down in a bit," she says, gesturing with her head towards the wall. The movement dislodges her hair, and it tumbles down with the faint tinkling of pins on the tiles.

(She resists rolling her eyes. Just.)

"Good day?"

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

"Not a bad one," he responds, draping one arm over the back of his chair.

"Better than yours, or so I'd assume."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

"The loss of air-conditioning was the icing on the cake, so to speak."

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

"They're working on it."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

"I know." Then, with a smile, "you're not too hot?"

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

He shakes his head.

"No. Not too much so."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

"That is patently unfair."

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

"I haven't been working as hard as you."

Which does nothing to disprove her point.

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

"Apparently not."

Beat.

"Is that all sorted, then?" She asks, gesturing to the wall and meaning Bolivia.

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

"For now."

One can never tell these things.

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

Especially not in Bolivia.

Camille nods, looks down then up.

"And Medrano?"

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

Pause.

A quick look, and then:

"He's almost yours."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

Quietly, "Almost?"

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

"This wasn't exactly what my colleagues wanted to hear."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

"No, I can imagine not."

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

He cants his head to one side.

"Then you see why I don't have an immediate answer."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

"I do. I just...wanted clarification."

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

With a brief smile: "You won't have to wait much longer."

[onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com]

She doesn't entirely know what she is going to do without...this. This quest of hers, this driving need to hunt down Medrano and rid herself of her family's ghosts. It scares her, a little, trying to think of a future without him and without this, but-

But she is twenty-nine, and she is tired. She is tired of having it drive her, consume her, tired of the guilt, tired of having Mama and Papa and Melda crowd around and scream in her sleep. There is a ring on her finger and a man who loves her (for whatever definition of the word), and she wants to move on.

So, she just says, "Thank you," and holds out her hand.

[ofgreatinterest.livejournal.com]

He takes her hand, kisses her knuckles.

"My pleasure."

(and, well -- this is the closest he has even been - ever let himself be - to another person)