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when i was giggling and dizzy, flirting like a 12 year old girl

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Parker's disguised when she approaches the FBI agent. Her wig's black, she's wearing nice makeup, and her dress makes her look curvier than she really is. It's been three years since Nate got arrested. They haven't run into Agent Amy Nevins in the intervening period, but Parker still remembers her.

Parker's just finished her first part in the job (placing a card instead of lifting it, so elementary she'd gone alone, without comms), but there's no FBI involvement. This week's bad guy is a corporate goon who happens to play ball in Nevins' neighborhood.

So, Parker does what she's been wanting to do since she saw the agent; she bumps her and strokes her hair. It's yellow and sweaty and feels good sliding between Parker's fingertips.

That would have been the end of it, except Parker stole Nevins' wallet, purely by reflex. Normally, she'd just bump it back in the mark's pocket, but Parker's way overdressed for this bar. Nevins will notice if someone in a very tight, very red, very shiny cocktail dress bumps into her twice in one night. So Parker slinks her way back to where Nevins is perched on a couch, looking a little wrung out. She stops with one leg thrust a little forward, to stretch the muscles to best advantage, and says, "Care for some company?" She sits down, the next thing to curling up in Nevins' lap.

Nevins' blinks at her for a moment, then looks her up and down. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" She puts her beer down and trails cool, damp fingers just above Parker's knee.

Parker frowns. "I thought it goes, 'What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?'"

Nevins' smiles, just a little. "I don't know whether or not you're a nice girl. Yet."

Parker reaches out and touches that damp, blonde hair. "Unwrap me and find out."

Nevins puts her hand back in her own lap, sits up straight. "Are you," she coughs, "are you proposing a one-night stand?"

"Yes," says Parker. She lets her hand slip down to the nape of Nevins' neck, applies the tiniest of pressures. "Never would have come to The Diamond if I'd known it was a sports bar. Don't see any reason to stay."

Nevins is leaning in, but very, very slowly. "Don't like baseball, huh?"

Parker laughs. "I like softball. Softball players." She kisses Nevins, and slips the stolen wallet back in the duffel at their feet.