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As apparently no one else is going to do it:

We're running missions to go digging dirt on the UE's past, but we need people to be doing info gathering here as well. Meaning we ought to have someone(s) go meet with this timeline's version of the Initiative to get as much information as possible. I know we're all feeling very cozy at the moment, but let's not pretend that it can't or won't change at the drop of a hat. Fortifying ourselves in bunkers isn't going to do us much good if we don't know what we're supposed to be defending against in the first place

Now as Christ knows I can't do it (I think we're all more than aware of what my version of diplomacy consists of), that means we need a set of proper volunteers - preferably with experience in this sort of field. If you or anyone you know might be suited to it, speak up so you can find one another and get a bloody away team wrangled

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Mmhmm, I'm sure you were. [He drains his cup. It's all thick sugar at the bottom - sticks to his tongue and the roof of his mouth, sickly sweet.]

Tell me that after you've been traipsing about this hell hole doing my errands for me.

You are not hiring me, yes? So I'm not. But if you were . . .

[she grins] I like traispsing about this hell hole sometimes. So I do not mind so much.

In that case forget I ever said anything about owing you. Happy to hear you'll do it out of the kindness of your heart. How charitable of you, love.

[Given how his career as 'bad man' and 'politician' have both gone absolutely nowhere, he might as well stick to what he's been doing best as of late - i.e., giving Tempest shit.]

[at least, she gives as good as she gets]

My, do you think I would let you out of owing me? The only kindness I have is that my favor won't be too ridiculous when I ask you of it.

No, sorry, you've already said you enjoy roving around performing menial tasks. You can't take that back; I've given you a gift with this.

[Smug motherfucker.]

I never said you would not owe me, though, dear. Nice try.

[He waves her off, makes a dismissive noise low in his throat.]

Alright, alright. Sod off. Are you done with your bloody tea yet so I can oust you from my flat?

My, how rude of you.

[this time she doesn't resist the urge to stick out her tongue] Yes, I am done. You can oust me.

A bit, yeah. But as nice as playing host to you is, I've apparently thing to accomplish this afternoon.

[Hard to be the one whipping the whole damn place into shape; no wonder Saul Goodman was so miserably bad at this job - it isn't one that's terribly rewarding, is it?]

[it isn't, which is why you will never see Tempest doing anything remotely like that. And, well, it's against her nature and all.

She stands up and straightens her clothes]

Of course, as do I. I will speak you later, I suppose?

[And you think it's in his? Christ, Charlie is fundamentally the opposite of a politician despite what he might be playing at these days.

He gravitates toward the door, in no real hurry.]

Yeah, of course. Can't keep away from you, darling.

[she rounds the table to follow, also in no real hurry]

I hope you are not saying that as if it is a bad thing, dear.

No, of course not. You're charming as anything. Cute as a button - or a baby rabbit.

[He graces her with a charming, smug bastard sort of grin and cuffs her shoulder with his knuckles as he shows her to the door.]

[she slows down a bit to stare at him, because what the hell, Charlie]

A baby rabbit.

That's right. [He opens the door, cheerfully setting his hand at the door jam.]

Cuddly and largely harmless so long as you keep your fingers away from the teeth.

Ah, I see . . .

[she taps a finger against her chin in thought for a moment, as if she's actually, seriously thinking if she's anything like that.

The answer comes a moment after that, when she hauls off and punches him. Certainly not as hard as she could, and not enough to do any lasting damage, but absolutely hard enough to knock him back, or even better, knock him down]

[Aaaand there it is. He can't say he doesn't expect it, that he wasn't in some way goading her to do it - but that doesn't mean the hit doesn't sting when he takes it, shoulder banging against the door frame as he's knocked back on his heels, fingers splaying out to catch on the nearby wall to keep him from reeling.

Yeah, yeah alright: retribution accepted.]

[as it should be. At the very least, she doesn't seem completely offended; just indignant.

She makes a move to leave, but instead leans over and pats him on the cheek, right where she hit him, her grin all teeth and very, very smug]

Too close to the teeth, love. [and with that, she steps out the door to leave]

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