Owner	Pose
Grant Ward	Josie's Bar     10:12 PM, Wednesday Night     2025     The invasion has been scarring the world, and while most people are being kept safe by the heroes out there, people like Grant are out there in the thick of it. He hasn't been on the front-lines, of course, but leading black ops and SHIELD missions to strike at the enemy. Recently, one of those strikes left him clinging to life. Now, Grant sits on a stool at the bar in Hell's Kitchen, sipping at a beer as he glances over a battered New Zealand travel book. It is worn and dog-eared. The man is dressed in jeans, work-boots and a flannel shirt, his Yankee's cap sitting on the bar. His left arm is in a sling, and he has some partially healed scratches and cuts on his handsome face.     The bar is only semi-crowded, as plenty of people are not venturing out into the city, and also because it is a Wednesday night. Grant is also not a regular, so that stops some folks from approaching him. He drains he remainder of his beer and pushes the empty glass to Josie, nodding for a refill.
Karen Page	It was a.. well, to say it was a long day would be putting it kindly. The day starting with a pipe breaking in the basement where the bulk of the firm's files were held, and ended with barely getting the worst of the soggy things into a salvagable state. Karen was pretty sure there had been pizza promised in there, but things happen, and Matt got called away, and well, there was no way she was just going home after all that. Which is how she ended up here, at Josie's. It was the first place her feet found that not only sold alcohol, but looked like the food wasn't going to kill her if she ordered bar fare.     Too late, she remembered to think about how she was going to pay for this. It had been a lean couple weeks, and her pocketbook was just now informing her that it was drinks /or/ bar fare, not both.     No contest. After the day she'd had?     Karen hauled her weary butt to a barstool - one of the few places left to sit - and orders a beer. "Whatever's on tap, please." She shoves a crumpled bill onto the counter. "Keep them coming for however long this last." A grin crosses her lips. "With tip, of course." She might be broke, but she's not crass.
Grant Ward	The man flips slowly through the travel book with his good hand. There are paperclips serving as bookmarks, and some stuff has been highlighted. He offers the world a small, tired smile at one of the pages before his beer gets set in front of him. It causes him to glance up, which is when he spots Karen sliding onto a stool nearby. "'Whatever's On Tap'...that's one of my favorite local brews," he jokes softly, before brushing his hand over his stubble. "I'm drinking the same." He brings his glass to his lips for a long sip.     Grant glances over at her as he sets the beer back down onto the counter, beside his ballcap. "The chicken wings are great, from what I've heard, and it looks like a normal plate it too small for me...and a large plate is too big." He fishes out his own wallet, and he fishes out some cash to pay the bartender. It isn't loaded with cash, but he is more flush then her. "Mild, medium, or burning?," he asks the secretary, clearly making the assumption she'll share the food with him. He offers her a lopsided smile.
Karen Page	Now, normally she'd be more cautious, but there's something about that smile.. "I'm adventurous. How about you?" Her eyes twinkle with challenge as she informs, "Burning. Unless you think you can't handle the heat." Something terribly saucy about the say she says it.     Her beer arrives right that moment, Josie taking a look at Karen's crumpled bill and giving it a nod, reaching for the thing and shoving it into one of the pockets of the cash apron she wears. "It'll get you three," the woman says with a nod. "With tip, of course,"     Karen shrugs. It's about what she expected, and three beer is better than no beer.     She turns in her seat, now to regard Grant more fully, one hand cupped around the already sweating glass set before her. "That's a horrible thing you're doing to that book there. Who raised you? Baboons?" Her lips turn up at the corner, just waiting for his answer to that.
Grant Ward	The man laughs at that, and he shakes his head. "Oh...well. In that case I -need- to go with Burning, don't I? I can't be accused of something like that and live with myself." He shakes his head and nods to Josie. "Large plate of burning wings and a side of fries. Ranch, too...please..." He brings his beer to his lips for another sip before he turns on his stool to face her.     He blinks at her comment and glances down at the book, before laughing. "I've had this book since I was four. I keep adding to it, highlighting and rereading it. Battle damage, you know?" He man closes the book, revealing it to be a travel guide to New Zealand that is a good twenty or more years out of date, with color pictures, information on places to visit, and similar. "It isn't like I'd treat a first edition Twain like this or something. I'm Grant."
Karen Page	"Extra ranch," Karen quips before Josie can leave to send the order back to the kitchen staff. Grant gets a sheepish little grin. "I might like to dip my fries a little." It's not really an apology. Not really.     When he puts the book down, she takes a long look at the cover. "Still, you don't have to murder the poor thing. Paper clips?" Karen shakes her head, but she doesn't disaparage the use of the highlighter, so perhaps that's okay in her books.     Her free hand is extended, thankfully her right, making the handshake possible, "Karen. Karen Page." Remembering just a little too late that the name might be remembered as the girl who got into that murder mess. Oh, she was cleared, but it was a mess all the same. "Have you been there? To New Zealand, I mean."
Grant Ward	He reaches out and takes her hand. His own is warm and calloused, with notably bruised knuckles. "Nothing wrong with that," he responds when she mentions dipping her fries. "Best thing to dip a fry in, though, is a shake. I don't think they make them here, though," he adds with that lopsided smile of his. He brushes his fingers back through his dark hair and glances down at the book in question.     "I've been all over the world. Asia, Africa, the Middle East, both Americas...and numerous islands here and there. Never, ever there, though. Everytime I plan on taking a vacation something comes up. It's on my 'bucket list', I guess. Whenever things get really rough I take this book out and it kind of helps center me." He turns back towards her. "Silly, I know."
Karen Page	Her handshake is firm in reply to his. Nothing shy about it. Just the right amount of firm, and then released. "I know where they make a mean shake. Other side of the Park, though." Then she laughs. "Their fries are horrible."     While he speaks of where he's been, Karen listens, gaze intent upon him. Sincere, even. "You should wait, then. Until you can do it and do it right. I don't know. People talk about bucket lists. I'm not sure I believe in them, but it sounds like the kind of thing to put on one. No sense going when you might get called back into.." Her head cants to one side as she gives him another once over. "Well, you're not dressed for the army, but your travel itinerary says you could be. Agent? And it's not silly. Everyone should have a dream."     The way she says it makes it sound like she had a dream.. once.
Grant Ward	He laughs softly at that. "Quite the conundrum. Good fries here, good shakes there. I know a good place that has both, but they are in Brooklyn." He picks his beer back up and takes a sip from it as he considers her words about taking the trip right. He mulls her comment over as he sets his beer back on the table, and he shifts on his stool.     "Yeah, I know you're right. But...like I said...working on the book cheers me up when things get rough." He glances down at the arm, for emphasis. He's moving a bit gingerly, too. Likely it isn't his only injury. He seems to think about what to reply before he finally shrugs his good shoulder. "Agent, yeah. SHIELD. I work for SHIELD. Nothing too crazy, though," he lies. "What about you? What do you do, other then charming miserable men like myself?"
Karen Page	Her laugh is bright. "Oh? Me? I'm a general Girl Friday for two old curmudgeons." The fondness in her voice as she says that is more than clear, taking away any sting or sincerity there might be in the words.     She nods, growing more serious as the injuries are made apparent. "You look a little beat up there." With another of those bright little grins, "Now, if only we had a way to get to Brooklyn. Of course, at this hour, we'd probably SOL for the count. I'm not imagining they're open 24 hours?" More seriously, then, she murmurs, "Nothing too crazy, huh? A laundry list of places you've been like yours, plus the fact that you haven't had time to get away on one single worthwhile vacation in the time it's taken for that book there to grow out of date, and you expect me to believe 'nothing too crazy'?" Again, she laughs. "Do most of the girls fall for that lie?"
Grant Ward	He glances down at himself and nods when she references his injuries. "A strike was happening that happened to be too close to a school for comfort. I was helping evacuate it when I took this laser blast to the arm. Blew me a good fifteen feet back into a parked car. That is what the wincing is for. I'm better now, though. Mostly." Grant grins a bit and looks back up at her, holding her eyes with his.     "It's one of those old diners, actually. Open everyday but Christmas morning. Twenty four hours. We'd need to catch the subway at this hour, but..." He grins. Just then the wings show up, and he turns to help arrange the ranch between them, along with the wings and fries.     "Well, there would have to be a lot of girls for me to feed that line to for that to matter. There aren't. I...don't really get a ton of downtime like this."
Karen Page	"But nothing too crazy," Karen murmurs with a chuckle. "Oh, you are a funny one. And how is it someone who looks like you do doesn't get fed lines constantly?"     She listens as he talks about how he got the injury.     "I'd say it was a date, but," and here she grabs for a fry, dipping it into the ranch dressing, gathering up a generous glob of the stuff upon it, "We've already established you don't get fed lines. And I'm not that girl. Unless.." Her words mouthed indelicately around chewing, "You don't mind that I might have my eye on someone else. Not that he notices I'm alive."     Again that small sigh.     "So why aren't you taken? Seriously, I mean. I get the agent part, but surely there are girls there. I know, shut up Karen, you're not helping your cause here."
Grant Ward	He picks up one of the wings, and he dips it in the ranch before taking a big bite. His eyes widen a bit at the heat, and he quickly strips the wing and sets the bone down, fanning his mouth a bit. He picks up a napkin and wipes any sauce from his chin and fingers, before taking a big gulp of beer. "Shit," the man gasps, and then he laughs. "For American 'spicy' that is no joke." Grant shakes his head a bit and then glances over at her again as he grabs a fry.     "I move around a lot and I'm usually at risk. Plus there is a lot I can't say or have to outright lie about. It doesn't exactly make for a healthy relationship, and sleeping with other agents is frowned upon. Not that it doesn't happen." He shrugs his good shoulder. He considers her statement about liking another man and then grins a bit. "Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you, Karen."
Karen Page	She can't help but grin as he tests the heat of the wings and doesn't find it lacking. Calmly, she takes up one of her own and digs into it, seemingly oblivious to the heat of the thing. "Mmm, the way I see it is, it doesn't bother me. Just fair to put it out there where we both can see it." She shrugs, making short work of the wing, and chasing it down with a fair swig of the beer.     "That kind of sets you up for failure on most counts, doesn't it? But I think you're way too hard on yourself. Lots of jobs require secrecy. Well, we call it confidentiality in the office, but it's about the same thing. You find other things to talk about and respect one another on the rest."     Reaching for a second wing she teases, "Wuss. These don't even break a sweat."
Grant Ward	He weighs her words about setting himself up for failure as he squints at her and seizes another wing. "You know, we eat too many of these and kissing is going to suck. It'll numb your tongue and lips. No fun, there." There's a teasing tone in his voice. Playful, which is something his normal life never lets him be. He tears at the second wing after dipping it, and makes quicker work of this one. "Been on a pretty regimented diet lately. Not too much spice. Your tolerance drops," he says to try and make himself feel better. He grins.
Karen Page	A brow is arched delicately, "So we're kissing, are we?" She seems to think about it a moment, then shrugs. The other gets a squint, "At risk of bumping up against some of that we can't talk about it, but what regimented diet cuts out flavour?"     Second wing devoured in a most unladylike fashion, and Karen reaches for another fry, stirring it in the ranch dip. "You really need to get out more. I feel like I should pencil you in my little black book and harrass you on a regular basis to make sure you do."
Grant Ward	The man grins a hint at her question on whether they were going to kiss or not. He grabs another fry and dips it in some of the dripped hot wing sauce. "The night will tell, I guess. But it might be something I've just added to my bucket list," he quips, referencing back to earlier. The man cleans his hand on the napkin and glances back over at her.     He hardly seems bothered by unladylike appetite. "Paleo?," he responds, but his tone makes it clear he is joking. "I get out plenty. But not in the way I think you mean. I do have to say that being bothered by you seems a step up from sitting alone in my apartment watching reruns of old television and old movies and stuff."
Karen Page	He earns a chuckle with that response. "Well, I have it on great authority that if you're going to kiss, it's best to do it before the hot wings numb all the best places for kissing." She winks, and grabs another fry.     "Old movies, huh? Got an favourites? Like, when you say old, how far back are we talking?" Her eyes twinkle. "Like when folks still called them new fangled movies with sound 'Talkies'?"
Grant Ward	He grins. "Well, it's 2025, so...mostly older then a decade or so. I have a severe love for movies from the last century. 1990's and 1980's, for instance." The man considers her comment about kissing, and his gaze briefly dips to her lips, before he looks down into his beer.     "Favorites? Man, it'd be hard to choose. I have a collection, though. I...I don't know. It's like the book, I guess. I don't get enough time to watch them, anyways. I have a bunch of movies and show collections I haven't even watched yet."
Karen Page	"Breakfast Club or Ferris Beuller's Day Off?" It's a seemingly innocent question, but you can tell a lot about a person by the way they answer such a thing.     She nods, though, reaching for another wing. "I prefer to read, really. But on rainy days it feels right to drag my best comfy blanket from the bedroom and curl up on the couch and watch movies. I'll watch anything, though. I've been told it's a failing." She doesn't sound bothered by the accusation in one bit.     "And just what the hell is a Paleo diet anyway?"
Grant Ward	"Breakfast Club, but that is because Ferris is a dick. Still, it is a fun movie, too. But I'll take Heathers over either." The man nods when she mentions prefering to read. "Reading is good. I read a lot when I was younger. More into movies now, but...books are good." He brushes his fingers over his light stubble. He blinks at her last question, and he laughs. "I really don't know. One of the other trainers at work was talking about it. Eat like a caveman, I guess. I don't know, it sounds terrible."
Karen Page	Karen shakes her head like he's failed the test. "See? I'd have pegged you for a Bueller guy. Wasn't that every boy's wet dream? To skip school and scam his dad's sports car?" A third wing goes down the way of the second. "So, Molly Ringwald, or Judd Nelson? People usually have firm opinions one way or the other. I'm not telling you where I stand."     She waves a half-eaten wing at him and nods with her chin, "How're the lips and tongue hanging on, huh?"     Of course, he mentions caveman and eating, and she almost collapses in laughter. "Oh for God's sakes. Who the hell was stupid enough to think that crap up? They foraged because they had to. I thought we gave up flogging ourselves in the middles ages. If you ask me, eating like that is just the dietary equivalent."
Grant Ward	"Not mine," he states softly. There is something there when he says that, beneath it all, but soon enough his smile is back. "I want to say Molly, but for purely carnal reasons." Grant laughs and works on some more fries before her question about his lips and tongue, and he smirks. "Not sure, really. We might want to test to make sure they're still good, right?," he teases.     The man laughs softly and nods to her. "I agree. I mean, I -do- have to have a pretty protein heavy, carb light diet for the most part, but...that's just due to the job." When he shifts that becomes pretty clear, as that flannel is hugging a -firmly- muscled body.
Karen Page	"Think about it, they were foragers. They weren't eating meat every day." When he shifts, she can't help a pause to watch. She might have her sights set elsewhere, but she's human, and Grant doesn't make a bad view.     Karen sits back and mulls his answer over her beer. Wing bones piled up neatly beside her ranch dip cup - at odds with her devouring means of eating them. "See, now that answer doesn't suprise me. She is pretty hot. I mean, if I were looking at girls that way, I probably would choose her too. I think I like Judd, though. Misunderstood bad boy? Where can you go wrong with that?"     She treats Grant to a soft smile. "That was a compliment, just in case you missed it."
Grant Ward	"Nothing wrong with a misunderstood bad boy," he offers in agreement, with a lopsided grin. He works on another wing while they talk, and soon his beer is drained. He raises the glass for a refill. He has been here for a bit already, and while he is not sloppy drunk, the man is clearly a bit tipsy by now. He turns back towards her and laughs.     "Which was? Are you inferring that I am a misunderstood bad boy?" His gaze dips briefly over her before he nods.
Karen Page	Karen sits up straight and makes a mock-aghast face. "Moi? Insinuate you're a misunderstood bad boy?" But she can't keep it up, and the face dissolves into soft laughter. "Oh, come on, your job, for one gives it away. Not to mention, that pick-up line? I mean, you're right, our mouths are going to be good for nothing in about, I'd say two wings more, but, still. That was pretty bad boy."     Her smile is a pretty thing that sits well upon her. "So, because I'm curious now, just how serious were you about that kiss. Knowing it isn't going to go anywhere."     Her first beer is finished, and the mug set aside, only to be replaced by the second of the three promised by Josie.
Grant Ward	"I'm always serious." He watches as another of her beers arrive, and he leans in a bit, grinning at her. "I have to be a good boy ninety percent of the time. My life is lived by a very thick book. It's nice to be bad sometimes, I guess." He reaches out and catches a smudge of sauce on the bottom of her lip, wiping it away.
Karen Page	Her eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected touch and swipe at her lower lip, lips parting in reflex, the tip of her tongue brushing the fullness of that bottom lip before she catches herself, and blinks. "Not so bad, though. You didn't do that the way you could have." Her words are soft and breathy. Slightly confused. "Very mixed messages, soldier boy." A misnomer, given he's an angent, not a soldier. She buries any other commentary or expression on the matter in a long pull at her beer mug. Perhaps a longer one than is sensible if one considers the matter of pacing when drinking.
Grant Ward	He grins a bit at that, and he doesn't response verbally. He simply takes a sip from his beer and watches her out of the corner of his eye. He watches and waits for her to finish drinking and swallow, before he leans in to press his lips to hers. It isn't a chaste kiss, certainly, and if she doesn't stop him it is actually a pretty deep, intense one. He even lightly nips her soft, full lip.     A few regulars in the bar give small hoots, before others shut them up.
Karen Page	If she'd meant to stop the kiss before it got out of hand, she failed in her mission. And later she might have some blushing moments of self-recrimination for actually participating in the unchastening, but for the moment, she's not just kissed, she's kissing. Even the hoots and hollers, and calls of "Get a room!" don't immediately filter through. But there's a point where a kiss stops being a kiss, and at that point she's the first to draw away and give a long, head shaking exhale.     "You..were serious." She licks her lips. "Wow. Okay."
Grant Ward	He blinks when she breaks the kiss, and then the man laughs softly and sinks back into his seat. "I told you. I'm always serious." He picks up his beer and takes another long sip from it. The jostling causes him to wince from his arm and everything, and he growls a bit to himself. "That wasn't too inappropriate was it? Because I can't really take it back, and I wouldn't want to if I could." The agent grins.
Karen Page	For a long moment Karen blinks at him, then fishmouths a bit. "I.. I don't even know where to begin with that. Take it back?" Even if it is followed up with the fact he wouldn't want to. "Damn straight you don't want to take it back," she manages finally. Barely refraining from a kick to his shin, but quite possibly only because the wince is noticed and more than a little hint of concern crosses over her features. "You okay? I mean, your arm."     He's watched, again, picking up his beer and sitting back ever so (deceptively) casually. "I guess you did say you were serious. That was.." Her lips quiver over a giggle, her eyes joining in, and then she can't help a laugh. "Clearly we did not hit wing quotient ground zero. Oh, Grant. Why are you so complicated?"
Grant Ward	He chuckles and nods. "I'm fine." He touches his shoulder lightly and traces a line in across his pec. "Cracked two ribs right here, and the shoulder was dislocated. It's back in now, obviously, but it smarts a bit. Without this shirt I'm mostly purple." Grant brushes his fingers back through his hair and sighs softly. He glances down into his beer but doesn't pick it up for a sip.     He glances up to meet her eyes when she giggles, and he grins a little. "It's complicated," he responds...only slightly teasing with the comment.
Karen Page	"It's complicated," Karen echoes softly, peering into her own beer. "You say that like it makes sense in your head somewhere. I don't even know what that was." But clearly on some level she does, as she gives a soft exhale and shake of head before drinking some more of her beer.     His injury is noted as he traces the line over his chest, making the woman wince. "I'll say that probably hurts. Just as well we've got some boundaries here. You probably won't be doing what most people would be doing after that kiss for some time." She tilts her head at him. "Does that happen often, injuries like that?"
Grant Ward	"Well, it just means I can't be on top," the man reaponds with a half-hearted grin. He drains his beer and sets the empty glass down, waving off a refill. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, but it's clear to Grant that he's had enough. He pops another fry into his mouth and chews as he glances back over at her. "I'm complicated because my job makes me complicated. And I like it that way because it's the only kind of life I've ever known. Rough childhood leading to a military career leading to SHIELD. Little time for anything else. Leaves you a bit off, I guess." He shrugs his good shoulder.
Karen Page	Karen listens with a soft smile on her lips. "Well, you did say your job made things complicated. Not really what I meant, but maybe I understand a bit." She continues the slow nursing of her second beer. "I had a simple life, once. You don't appreciate that sometimes until it's gone. I mean, I'm happy I'm where I am. Maybe not so crazy about how I got there. Can't imagine living some vaguely sububran housewife's life now. But sometimes I wonder how it might have been."     He's reagarded thoughtfully as he chews the fry. "She'd have to be less than energetic about it. That shoulder of yours is going to hurt, top or bottom. Not impossible, but it's going to make things interesting for the next while if you've got a girl in mind."
Grant Ward	He nods a bit and glances at his shoulder. "True enough. I've never known non-complicated, either. Not exactly sure I'd know what to do if I did." He smiles and glances back over at her. "Well, as long as your healthy and -mostly- happy, then things are good."     He shifts in his stool, and he turns to glance around the bar. "You come here often? Sounds like a pick-up line but we've already been chatting for awhile so...just a legit question at this point. If so I might need to swing by more often..."
Karen Page	He gets a shake of head for his troubles, Karen admitting, "Never been here before in my life. In fact, if it weren't for a broken pipe and a broken promise, I'd likely be off in my own bed right now with a belly full of pizza."     Karen shrugs. "I could manage to swing by more often.. if here's where you come, that is. And I seem to recall something about a subway ride for a shake and fries? That was a promise, wasn't it?"
Grant Ward	He laughs and nods. "It absolutely was a promise." The man glances down into his empty glass and then back over at her, arching an eyebrow. "Did you mean tonight? Or next time?," he asks curiously. "Because if it is next time...we might want to exchange numbers to make it all a little more convenient..." The SHIELD agent trails off as he reaches into a little jar on the counter to snag a toothpick. He picks at his teeth a bit before letting the pick rest between his lips.
Karen Page	Karen settles back to think before answering. "Much fun as it might be tonight, there's something to having a reason to look one another up, now, isn't there?" He's regarded as he picks up the toothpick; uses it; lets it dangle.     "I can give you my number, but here's the thing, when things get a little tight cashwise, I juggle the bills. It's usually only a day or two, but sometimes that's the one where I drop the ball." She gives an apologetic shrug. "I like eating. My boss knows where to find me. I mean, I wouldn't want you to take it personally if you called and didn't get through."     Her beer mug is held two-handed, wings and fries no longer seeming to hold her interest. "I have to think about that kiss, though. I don't want to do anything stupid." Even so, her mug is put down and a pen dragged out of her purse, as well as a crumpled piece of paper she smoothes with one hand, scrawling her cell number on it. And if the female of the species is supposed to have the neater handwriting, she's just blown that myth out of the water.
Grant Ward	"Smart. I'd rather be fully sober when I show you this amazing little diner. Brooklyn is my stomping grounds." He reaches out to grab a napkin as well, and he takes the pen when she is done with it. His own handwriting is clean and very precise, as if he is used to filling out closely scrutinized paperwork. He takes her number and then slides his own over.     "Hell, I vanish for weeks at a time for work, so...I can hardly blame you for that. I can't exactly go on a date when I'm fighting mutant terrorists in Qurac or something. Or robots. Or...whatever the hell it is this month."     He glances at the number and then pockets it, chuckling.
Grant Ward	"Smart. I'd rather be fully sober when I show you this amazing little diner. Brooklyn is my stomping grounds." He reaches out to grab a napkin as well, and he takes the pen when she is done with it. His own handwriting is clean and very precise, as if he is used to filling out closely scrutinized paperwork. He takes her number and then slides his own over.     "Hell, I vanish for weeks at a time for work, so...I can hardly blame you for that. I can't exactly go on a date when I'm fighting mutant terrorists in Qurac or something. Or robots. Or...whatever the hell it is this month."     He glances at the number and then pockets it, chuckling.
Karen Page	Karen smirks as he checks out her scrawl. "What? You're an agent. You have my name. I work for a law firm. If that isn't enough to track me, then you're not as good as you like to think you are." Yes, there is challenge in that. She, however, pockets his neatly written name and number, looking more than smug.     "Vanishing seems to be a common theme amongst people I know. Think this month is pet rocks. Return of the 80's. Everyone forgot to water them, and now they're pissed." She chuckles, then sighs at him. "I suppose this is probably good night, huh? I'm really glad I stopped in. I was hoping to avoid botulism. Definitely surpassed my expectations."
Grant Ward	"It's less that and more that I don't want to get all creepy-stalker on a beautiful woman and scare her off. I'm mental, but I try not to be -that- kind of mental." He slides to his feet and fishes out the cash for the tip and to pay for anything they got.     He picks up his ballcap and then leans in a bit. "Yeah, I better get back to my place while I still can. Still need to do my morning work-out, even when I've had the crap kicked out of me. I'll see you soon, though, I hope." He leans in to kiss her again, but stops if she seems to want him to. This kiss is tamer then the last one, but it certainly isn't just a peck on the cheek, either.
Karen Page	The kiss is allowed, in fact, she'd been quibbling over whether or not to do the deed herself. She'd almost worked herself up to 'a kiss on the cheek is okay' when Grant leans in and offers a proper goodbye, and that, really, was all the permission Karen needed.     No, it isn't the kiss of earlier. They tasted those waters, and while tempting, somehow they both know that timing is everything, and it would be a mistake right this moment. Sometimes things need their moments, and this isn't it.     When their lips part this softer, gentler thing, Karen is the one to reach up and brush a thumb along his lower lip, even though there's no sauce there to remove. The gesture seems fitting though. "No worries, soldier boy, I'd have walked you home. And you've not seen the last of me yet."     There's a saucy little wink, and she's turned about and sashaying herself towards the exits, knowing full well she has an audience in him, and more than a handful other of the bar's patrons. "Call me. Oh, one of the digits I gave you? Is wrong. You're smart. Figure it out." And with that, she's out the door, and gone.