co_pilot | (no subject)

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The next leg of their tour is the European section - there aren't as many cities that were directly affected by the kaiju here, though the people seem no less effusive in their enthusiasm. Mako is at an equal disadvantage when it comes to the talk shows - her languages are better, perhaps, than Raleigh's, but she doesn't possess complete fluency in this particular part of the world.

The interviews are fairly easy to get through, though they always manage to end up fielding some question about the two of them.

("Mr. Becket, Ms. Mori, can you talk to me about the status of your relationship?")

Too many shared glances, too many moments alone; people don't want to talk about the losses of the past. They want gossip, sensational news. It's enough to make her want to scream, or tear her hair out in frustration.

She settles for the next best thing - the exercise room of the hotel they're staying in is empty at night, and there's enough space for her to wind through the movements that calm her.

She doesn't need to watch her form in the mirrors around the room; she merely closes her eyes, focuses on her breathing - and lets the stress slip away.

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"My - expression of mutual interest?"

She raises an eyebrow, nudging one hand against his knee.

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Like you said, it is - not a requirement."

"Mako."

Raleigh shifts, which lets him face Mako more directly, stretching his legs in front of him.

"I probably would have kissed you the first time we sparred if it hasn't been so public."

Well, that earns him the relatively new expression she's beginning to adopt around him.

But - it's encouraging to know that what had passed between them had not been one-sided.

"You would have?"

"Again with the surprise."

"And here I thought you were done."

"Wouldn't want to be boring."

She slides forward, bracing her weight on one hand.

"No one would ever accuse you of that, Raleigh Becket."

That sounds like a reputation to live up to.

Raleigh leans forward to kiss Mako in a move that almost seems more like just meeting in the middle rather than an action met with a reaction.

"Insomnia is amazing."

She barely has time to close her eyes before he pulls away, fighting to wrap her mind around what's just happened.

She breathes, and remembers her words.

"O-originally I might not have agreed with you."

"Do you want to get out of here? Lets just...go. Do something."

"Do what?"

Someone's mind is still lingering back in that last minute.

"Run away and find a ping-pong table? We're highly-trained agents; we should be able to achieve some sort of subterfuge."

Your insomnia-ridden brain is going to have to give her dazed brain a chance to catch up.

"And if we are caught?"

"Blame it on the jet-lag.

"Or, we could actually attempt to sleep."

"I'm not so sure I could sleep now."

"Why? Have I kept you awake?"

The tiniest formation of a smirk. He totally has, hasn't he.

"Come on -- " Raleigh stands up first, pulling Mako up afterward. "Let's go to a room."

Not separate ones.

She dignifies that with little more than a small, wry smile, pulling herself to her feet with her grip on his hands.

" - a room?"

"...could be any room. Yours, mine, the bar downstairs if you want some place nice and public."

Backpedaling like crazy. Possibly.

Possibly yes.

But she doesn't say anything, just quietly slips her hand into his and walks out of the room, stopping to pick up her slippers on the way.

Navarra in northern Spain is their next stop. (Raleigh is no longer remotely jet-lagged.)

Yet again, Mako and he find themselves exiting yet another television studio trying to get back to their hotel.

Unfortunately, the paparazzi does not really feel like giving the rangers their space.

She doesn't know how the situation manages to devolve. One moment they're pushing their way through a stifling crowd of press and the next it becomes a jostling, shoving mob.

Someone tries to shove a camera in her face, and when the two of them decline to comment the reporter mutters something about Raleigh's parentage under his breath.

Mako's close enough to hear it, and it makes her stomach twist.

And it bothers her right up until the second she lays him out with a solid punch to the jaw.

"Mako!"

The cameramen are snapping even more wildly now, and the newly-injured reporter is screaming something in Spanish about la policia, and it's really time to go --

"What -- let's get out of here -- "

She's still brimming over with anger as he pulls her away, puts her in the back of their car, tells their driver to get them the hell out of there.

And then she turns her face away, towards the window, oblivious to the rising bruises on her knuckles.