The Gallant Approach

Ah, hell. She's probably been through a lot tonight, and Lord knows you've had more than enough sex to hold you over for a while.

Another brief pang of guilt shoots through you as you remember why, but you shove it aside. Something to deal with later.

You reach out at the nurse, causing her to flinch, before your hand lands on her back. She freezes for a moment, looking at you with eyes like a chipmunk's: moist and jumpy.

"Don't worry about it," you say, calmly. "I'll see to it that nothing happens. Just keep doing the good work, m'kay?"

She nods, straightening up a little. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Eh, it's nothing," you say. She begins fixing her rumpled clothing, and you feel one last stab of pity for the poor girl. "Here," you say, handing her the note. "For your trouble."

Her eyes open wide, and she shakes her head, but you insist, and **** the note into her hand. "Don't spend it all in one place." She tries to hand it back, when you are struck with an idea.

Drawing on all your years of detective films, you try to adopt a bartering tone. "Hey, I need to look at some of the files here for another case. If you tell me where they're stored, could you call it even? It's nothing I couldn't get legally, given time, but I can't stand having to cut through all that red-tape bureaucracy crap."

She stops, thinking for a moment, then whispers a room number.

"Thanks, doll face," you reply, giving her a quick grin, then pat her on the head and walk away.

Well, that was distracting. Tally ho!