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</noinclude>

The washroom door bangs open.

Bubbles jumps; her hairbrush clatters to the floor.

Buttercup slams and locks the door, grabs her shoulder, spins her around.

"Well hel/**lo**, nurse," she purrs. "You could've—"

Buttercup flies back, shoulder blades hitting the wall, blush pinking his colour almost to normal.

"—just /**asked** to see me in my frillies."

Eyes on the floor, deep breath, "Quinn, listen. /**Please**—"

Bubbles holds perfectly still.

"—I've got /**maybe** two minutes before Chapman realizes I ditched him and starts looking; he'll come /**straight** here and I'm not sure I'll get another—"

Bubbles seizes his arm, drags him into the shower—

"What're ye—"

—starts the water, gets herself under the spray. "Buying us another minute or two."

He shakes his head, goes down on one knee—

"/**Buttercup!** I didn't know—" Tugs his hair—

—fishes something from his boot, stands—

—sighs, "Tease."

—presses a plastic-coated slip in Bubbles' hand. "Those're coordinates. Coded." Pushes his wet hair off his forehead.

Bubbles tucks the slip into her bra.

Buttercup frowns, shivers. "Some of the caches are empty, some have stuff."

She drapes her arms around his neck, stretches herself against him. "'Stuff'."

Rolls his eyes. "Money." Breath. "You and anyone you send to collect can keep a little finder's fee, the rest goes to Charlie, ay?"

"But wh—"

"Because we're probably not coming back from Hong Kong."

"You're making a run for it?"

"No." Swallows. "Everyone on this mission's supposed t' die." A sad aside, "Half the goal's t' kill us."

"You're cra—"

"{Have I been wrong about this sorta thing yet?} Has anyone [/**ever**] come back from [one of] these things?"

Bubbles swallows, eyes pricking, shakes her head.

Buttercup drops his head on her shoulder. {"'m not wrong now."} Muffled, "We'll probably die—" Deep, shaky breath. "—and I want to do /**something** for Jack's— 'cause this's all my fault."

She cradles his head, [whispers against his ear, "Shhh. I like it] better this way."

"Hmmwha?"

"I get /**this**." Squeezes him tighter.

Buttercup [mumbles], "You're crackers," doesn't pull away.

"Yea[—"  Strokes his hair. "—]but I'm happy."

"'least someone—"

Banging at the door—

Buttercup startles, pulls away slightly.

—and Owen calls, ""Bubbles? Do you have Jones in there?""

Bubbles sighs, tugs Buttercup back into contact{, forces a cheerful, breathy tone,}[.] "Just a miiiinute~! We've gotta—" Squeals. "—finish!"

Buttercup wrinkles his nose.

"Just for that—" Buries her fingers in his hair, kisses his—

He squeaks, his hands fluttering at his sides.

—cheek. Pulls away, smirking. "/**Now** you look properly flustered."

Buttercup, brilliant crimson, huffs, pries himself loose. [He manages the door on the third try, flings it open.

Owen, hand raised to knock again, ducks aside. Blinks. "Wo—" Clears his throat. "Would you like a towel, Ranger?"

Buttercup grunts, pushes past, drips across the suite and out the door.

Owen turns to Bubbles.

She [languids] against the vanity, flicks her hair back, sighs.

"Congratulations," says Owen, offering a fist.

Bubbles smirks, bumps it.]