For Ryalin on her birthday.
Time: Season 4, after Restitution
"I don't believe this," groused Marguerite. She straightened her camisole and glared at Roxton.
The indirect sunlight was more than enough for the dark-haired lord to see her angry expression. He stood up straighter as he did up his fly. "You're looking at me as if this is my fault."
"It is your fault! If you hadn't surprised me like that—"
"You didn't object at the time," he argued in his own defense.
"You didn't exactly give me a chance, did you?" snapped the fiery-tempered brunette. "I could barely catch a breath." She buttoned her lavender blouse furiously, accidentally missing a buttonhole and having to go back to redo it. It didn't improve her disposition.
"You've never had any trouble making your wishes known—particularly just now." John picked up his gunbelt and strapped it back on. He checked that his Webleys were secure in their holsters.
Her eyes flashed, but she had no argument. Roxton's triumph was short-lived, however. "You watch yourself, or I'll cook dinner," Marguerite snarled. She tucked her blouse into her skirt with more vehemence than absolutely necessary.
An expression of dread and horror flashed across Roxton's face before he could stop it, and Marguerite looked briefly triumphant. Her threat worked—
—but only for a moment. As she knelt down and retrieved her left boot, wondering exactly how and when it had come off, she heard Roxton say, "It was your foot that broke it, not mine."
She shoved her foot into the boot and stood quickly, resettling her skirt and rising up onto her toes to look him in the eyes. She was momentarily gratified when he backed up a step so that his back was pressed against the wall. "Instead of casting aspersions, I suggest you find a way to fix the problem." Her tone was as steely as her gaze.
"I can't do anything from here!" he protested. "And certainly not without any tools."
"Why, John," said Marguerite, her voice still hard but also suddenly coy, "you had no trouble finding the appropriate tool a few moments ago."
This time it was he who was caught without a retort, although his body had its own response to the tempestuous beauty. Marguerite noticed and smiled dangerously. She leaned in closer, bringing her mouth within a hair's breadth of his ear before whispering, "Not on your life." She stepped back.
John cleared his throat and adjusted his trousers. His brain sought a solution. "Challenger and Malone will be back " He trailed off.
"Tomorrow," she coolly finished for him.
"Veronica and Summerlee—" he tried again.
"—are collecting medicinal herbs and are due back—" She allowed him to complete the sentence.
"Tomorrow," he said heavily.
"So, the question remains, Lord Roxton," Marguerite went on, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the opposite wall, "how are we getting out of this elevator?"