Two Ships Passing.

Meet Me Halfway.

It is not a night for thinking. It's a night for walking into the first bar that looks like it won't serve her a drink in a glass last washed ten years ago. Everything else isn't important. So that is what she does.

Angela's POV.

The day is over. I love my life, my job and all, but sometimes, sometimes it's just too hard to do it. Today has been one of those days. The details of the case have made me want to bleach my brain, wipe away the scene with something, anything. Gibraltar is supposed to be a place for good times by the cold water of the sea. It's not supposed to be a place for horrific murders.

Helix is just by the sea, a bar shoved in between cobblestone streets and colourful houses. It's not a place I've been before, but I don't have the energy to go to my regular bar. I don't want to explain why I need to drink liquor straight tonight, why I need to just be left alone. So this place - a tourist trap if I ever saw one with its Middle East paraphernalia and dim lights outside the sculpted wooden door - will do nicely.

Inside, I am actually shocked to find the place isn't quite as cheesy as I may have originally thought. Its theme is obvious; tapestries adorned the floor, and the lights are weak, if not natural, making the place surprisingly cozy. It's all dark wood and rich leather, and obviously well cared for. I wonder how I've never been inside this place before, my loft is only a few blocks away, but I don't really have to search hard for an answer. I'm a creature of habit, and my habit is to go out with Lena, and get our drinks on with all the others over at Talon's.

I should be there now, letting myself get swept away. But I can't. Lena is better at it, better at talking to others when things get rough. Lena jut handles life better. She isn't a festering, walking wound like me, lost in my memories.

Which is why tonight, I chose to be lost alone. I find it fitting that I ended up here, in this bar; If I had to be alone, this cozy and warm place isn't so bad.

It's a week night, and it's late. There's a few guys sitting at one table, clearly underage, clearly drunk and from the nearby college, but I pretend not to notice. They're mostly keeping to themselves, and since there aren't a whole lot of other people in the bar, I don't really care. If they start to bother me, I'll just hope they're smart enough to be on their way before I have to deal with them.

The woman working at the bar has been watching me, watching as I lingered in the doorway halfway in and halfway going somewhere else. She seems a bit taller than me, a mop of unruly dark brown hair falling into her eyes and tresses with gold beads covering her shoulders. There's an image she's obviously going for to fit in with this bar, from the tattoo and the all black attire, but there's also a keen intelligence in her eyes as she watches me make a decision.

It's the intelligence that makes me stay. A conversation with a stranger isn't entirely unwelcome. It may even distract me long enough to not see all that blood for thirty seconds.

"Vodka, please. Straight." I don't know why I order it. Maybe it's because I need something that can make me forget everything. I'm usually a wine sort of girl, but tonight I need something stronger.

"You'll be a lady on a mission, then." Her voice is a surprise, low and smooth with the hint of an Arabic accent. When I glance up, she's wearing a crooked grin and setting down the glass of vodka.

"Something like that." I pick up the glass she's set down before me and throw the drink back, the cheap vodka burning through me in a fierygulp. She's surprised by this, amber eyes widening as I set down the glass and nod towards it for a refill.

"Quite the mission it must be." She's brought the bottle out from under the bar and is pouring it into my glass, her eyes fixed on me instead of her task. "Bartender makes a good listener, right?"