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He sees her sitting at the bar. She’s drinking something amber from a glass. It’s one of the things he loves about her; she never been an appletini kind of girl.
“May I join you,” he asks, indication the seat next to her.
“Of course,” she acquiesces.
He gestures to the bartender in a way that somehow says “two more of what she’s having,” because moments later that’s what appears.
He takes a sip and looks at her, “Really?”
She shrugs with her eyebrows, “I’m British.”
“Nice to meet you British, I’m Grant.”
She rolls her eyes at his cheesiness. No one else knows this, but he can be such a dork sometimes.
“Do you come here often?” The line is a trigger for a game they play. Well, she supposes, it’s more of a training exercise Ward came up with.
“Grant? Do we have to play tonight?” It’d been a long day and she’s not sure she’s up for it.
“New mission specs came out,” he replies, “consider tonight a warm up. We’re going under.”
A sliver of fear runs through her but she sets it aside, she’s ready for undercover.
This is their last night out, probably for a while and she intends to make the most of it, game or no game. She closes her eyes and develops her cover. It’s a game they often play when they go out. The goal is to strengthen Jemma’s ability to think on her feet and become another person. It started out as a training exercise but she’s gotten so good that now it’s mostly fun. Well, fun and Ward’s use it or lose it mentality when it comes to skills.
“Nice to meet you Grant. You can call me Hermione.” Her eyes twinkle just a bit.
He smirks, “What do you do, Hermione?”
“Oh, I’m a flight attendant, and you Mr. Grant Ward,” she asks sipping her drink, “What is it that you do?”
“The name’s Smith actually, and I’m in taxidermy,” he deadpans. Jemma chokes on her drink, but manages to not dissolve into a fit of coughing.
“Nice to meet you Mr. Smith.”
Next begins the hard part. It’s a royal inquisition, disguised as a casual conversation in which Ward tries to stump her or catch her in a lie. She’s discovered that the easiest way for her to stick to her story is for it to be her life but with one or two of the details altered. In the beginning she would have her parents switch identities and make up fake siblings. Now, however, she’s able to take it much further; like, how her life would be different if her mum was an American. Or, as is the case tonight, what her life would be like if neither of her parents went to university. Once she even claimed to be an aglet manufacturer.
So she talks about how with no money or inclination to attend University, and a great desire to see the world she became a flight attendant. She’s currently on a layover, just for tonight. He smiles and asks questions, poking her story for holes. When she asks him questions, he drives her crazy spouting off made up information about the science involved in taxidermy. He smirks as he does this, knowing it’s driving her to distraction not being able to correct him. As is usually the case, they both get caught up in their fake personas and begin to actually have some fun with it. Hours later, Ward signals the end of the game.
“Want to get out of here?”
Jemma nods vigorously and downs the rest of her drink. As much fun as she has pretending to be someone else with Grant, it’s always a bit of a relief when she can go back to being herself. Hermione's spent the last half hour fantasizing about all the things she wants to do to Grant when they get home, and now Jemma gets to see them through. He picks up the check and helps her into her coat.
They exit the pub and he’s grinning deviously at her.
“What is it?” she asks as they approach the curb and Grant hails a taxi.
“Nothing,” he says as he opens the cab door for her. “Just surprised you’re going home with me. I have it on good authority that your type is more bald men who are about your height but heavier than you.”
She smacks him with her pocketbook and pulls him in for a kiss. She's a bit breathless when they pull away and slips into the cab.
“You are an ass.”
Ward lets out a short laugh and slides into the back seat with her.
It’s just another Saturday night.