She didn't expect to enjoy herself, but after a couple of St. Nick Specials, she decided she wasn't miserable. At least shoptalk was a way to kill a few hours.
She picked at the chicken nibbles she knew were going to go straight to her ass. Her diet could just go to hell. "How can you eat like that?" she asked McNab, watching with hate and envy as he plowed through a double-crust pizza with the works. "Why aren't you pig fat?"
"Metabolism," he said with his mouth full. "Mine's always on overdrive. Want some?"
She knew better. Fighting off the chunkies was a constant personal battle. But she took half a slice and reveled in it.
"You and Dallas straighten things out?"
Peabody swallowed hard and glared. "She talk to you about it?"
"Hey, I'm a detective. I notice shit."
The two drinks had loosened her tongue just enough. "She's really pissed at me."
"You screw up?"
"I guess. So did she," Peabody said, brow furrowing. "But I screwed up bigger. I don't know if I can make it right again."
"You got somebody who'd go to the wall for you and you screw it up, you fix it. In my family we yell, then we brood, then we apologize."
"This isn't family."
He laughed. "Hell it isn't." And he smiled at her. "You going to eat all those nibbles?"
She felt something loosen around her heart. The man might be a pain in the ass, she thought, but when he was right, he was right. "I'll trade you six nibbles for another slice of pizza."
* * *
Eve made an effort to put the surveillance operation out of her mind. She had good, experienced officers in place, electronic scans set up in a four-block radius. The minute Simon entered the perimeter, he'd be tagged.
She couldn't wonder, couldn't question, couldn't think of where he was, what he was doing. If someone else would die. It was out of her control.
Before the night was out, they'd have him. Her case was solid, and he'd go into a cage. Never come out. It had to be enough.
"You said something about wine."
"Yeah, I did." It was easier to smile than she'd expected. The simplest of matters to take the glass Roarke handed her.
"And making love like animals."
"I recall suggesting that."
It was simpler yet to put the wine aside and jump him.
* * *
Peabody stayed out later than she'd intended, enjoyed herself more than she'd imagined. Of course, she thought, as she clomped up the stairs to her apartment, that was probably the result of the liquor and not the company.
Though, she could admit, McNab hadn't been as much of an asshole as usual.
Now that she was pleasantly oiled, she thought she'd like to bundle into her ratty robe, turn on her tree, and curl up in bed to watch some sappy Christmas special on screen. At midnight, she'd call her parents and they'd all get sloppy and sentimental.
It had turned out to be a halfway decent Christmas Eve after all.
She turned at the top of the stairs and, humming a bit, walked toward her door.
Santa Claus stepped around the corner with his big silver box in hand, and beamed at her out of mad eyes. "Hello, little girl! You're out late. I was afraid I'd miss giving you your Christmas present."