She's wearing her red cheongsam tonight. It has too many memories from too many men, but everything does; it's a costume just as much as anything else, but she's been in one costume for another for her entire adult life.
This bar isn't her usual scene, but it suits her tonight. It's not as pretentious as the places Hamilton drags her to, but it's several steps above that miserable strip club off the highway where she met Venture.
She's just here to make a mistake, though, so, whatever works.
There's a pretty good crowd by the time she gets there, enough that she has to push a little to get to the bar. The bartender's distracted; it takes her a minute to get his attention, and he just gives her the "one minute" sign and goes back to the debutante and her complicated request for neon-colored shots.
She startles when a hand slaps the bar in front of her. "What are you doing here?" Kara Thrace, OSI agent extraordinaire, professional pain in the ass, demands.
Sheila rolls her eyes, leaning across the bar. "Vodka tonic," she tells the bartender, who's finally deigned to make an appearance.
"I ought to drop you right now," Thrace challenges.
"Sweetie," she sighs. "I've been at this a whole lot longer than you have, so let me give you some advice. Don't ever take this shit too seriously. It's not worth it."
Thrace snorts. "Big talk from a member of the Guild."
"Oh yeah, because the OSI is so-" She doesn't miss the look that passes over Thrace's features. "Oh god, not you too. Is there anybody left in the freaking OSI?"
"That's not your fucking business."
"Yes, it is," she says, exasperated. "It is exactly my business. It's what I do for a living. I actively oppose OSI agents for a living." She laughs humorlessly. "Though you wouldn't know it, lately."
Thrace smirks. "Glamorous life of crime got you down?"
"Look, either sit down and have a drink or get off my ass," she snaps, and to her surprise, Thrace takes the first option.
One drink stretches into two and on into three, and pretty soon she's calling Thrace Kara and laughing about stupid shit with her, and it isn't even fucking strange, because this is what Sheila's life amounts to, closer to her enemies than to her friends.
They're getting closer, her and Kara, right at the moment, touches a little more lingering as the time passes. Kara reaches up and tucks a strand of Sheila's hair behind her ear. "Is this is where you give me the speech about how you're fed up with men?"
"I'm here to cheat on my boyfriend who I still feel like I'm cheating on my ex-boyfriend with," Sheila says. "What does that tell you?"
Kara doesn't speak for a moment. "That we have too much in common."
"Whatever. Are we doing this or not?"
Kara slams down the rest of her drink. "Why the hell not."
Kara's hotel room looks just like she expected, dingy but not dangerous-looking. Kara's kisses are as expected too, hard and biting, but the rest of it isn't really as it should be. It should be rougher, impersonal, but they don't quite get there; there's too much touching, too much exploration. Kara kisses the inside of her thigh before she lowers her mouth onto Sheila's clit, her tongue sliding smoothly over her flesh; Sheila spends a long time on Kara's breasts, licking and caressing and nipping at her, until Kara's wild beneath her, bucking and squirming and begging for more, harder, softer, anything.
They're panting, when it finally winds down, laying side by side in bed, close enough to touch but not quite doing it. Kara turns to her and her smile is brittle, too much behind it. "And this is the part where you start regretting that this ever happened."
"No, what I need is more of this," Sheila tells her, a little amazed, because she's just figuring it out for herself, "and less of- of whatever the hell I've got now."
Kara's smile turns into a smirk; it drops again when she looks up at the clock on the wall. "You should go. He'll be here soon," she says.
Sheila raises an eyebrow at her. "Who's 'he'?"
"Whoever the OSI sent to kill me," Kara says, nonchalant.
"That's a shame." Sheila pats her cheek, sitting up to look for her clothes. "Well, if you make it out, you probably know where to find me."
"Will do," she says, and neither of them know if she means it or not.