bakerstreet | them sexts

Foggy laughs. He can't help himself. Claire's out here looking like a million bucks but she's certainly not providing much in the game department. It's cute, Foggy thinks, but he's not underestimating her one iota. No, it's likely that her comfort with him makes all the difference, and seeing her express herself so blatantly is exactly the kind of refreshing spirit that's helped bring the office a fresh edge.

"No, no, it totally is," he says and he throws an arm around her shoulders. Out in the mix he can spy a few prospects — people he's fairly certain are mingling, too, based on their body language — and for a moment he wishes Matt had come along so he could abuse the guy's super senses in an effort to get their friend laid. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Not a total asshole, but what about twenty-five percent asshole? I say no. Zero percent asshole candidates unless they're vetted assholes. So sayeth your wingman."

For all of her good looks, Claire has an almost embarrassing lack of game. At least, like Foggy correctly observes, until she's comfortable. Maybe that's why she'd thought having a wingman might help her in this possibly ridiculous quest to find a hookup for the night, especially one she can trust, like Foggy.

There are at least a couple people she has her eye on, also trying to read their body language to ascertain whether they might be single. Foggy's arm goes around her, and she doesn't pull away, but she does sigh a little. She's not entirely convinced that her vague description was actually helpful.

"I think twenty-five percent is just the right amount of asshole to be good in bed," Claire muses with a huff of a laugh. She's not exactly looking to get into anything serious. A relationship on top of her new job and preparing for law school feels like it'd be a lot. It's a true testament to how much she likes her boss, however, that she doesn't protest when Foggy talks about vetting these potential assholes. "Any more than twenty-five percent, and they'd have to be really hot. At least an eight."

"Another reason I like you, Claire. Couldn't agree more," he muses, all smiles. It's been a while since he'd had a chance to get out with someone that isn't Matt or Karen (or Matt and Karen) and he feels invigorated by this breath of fresh air. Like he wants the night to go right, to be memorable and something they can look back on with fondness.

"I feel like there's room for a fifty-percent asshole if they're really witty, at least a nine, and never want to get out of bed. That was my ex, pretty much," Foggy says, his grin bigger than ever. "Which reminds me: If I get blitzed and try to call my ex, you've got permission to tackle me and smash my phone, okay?"

"Now you're buttering me up, boss," she teases. Claire too has a similar outlook on the night, now that they're here and in the moment. That desire for things to go well, for them to leave the night some with funny stories to reminisce over later.

"I will confiscate your phone if you so much as mention calling your ex while you're intoxicated. Not sure how tackling you would go, but I'd certainly try." And isn't that a hilarious thought. She's several inches shorter than Foggy, plus wearing an extremely revealing dress. It'd be an absolute mess. "Fifty percent asshole, though. That's a lot. I don't mind if they have an edge to 'em, but I like the good ones. There would have to be some mind-blowing sex involved."

Edited (a word) 2023-07-04 22:07 (UTC)

"It was pretty incredible, not even gonna lie," Foggy says, his voice soft with reminiscence. "You will eventually meet Marci Stahl and she will absolutely adore you while thoroughly eviscerating me. You might do better with her as your wingman, actually — a whole lot of fun, trust me."

But he really shouldn't be hyping her too much or his finger will itch for Marci's contact card in his phone and neither he nor Claire will be able to finish a drink before Marci would come tumbling in to generate her own brand of beautiful chaos.

"Let's do some dancing," Foggy says resolutely, finishing his drink and leaving it behind as he shows off some of his moves on his way to what constitutes the smallest dancefloor ~~a writer can imagine in a small bar in a place they've never been~~.

She's inferred from the mention of her name in context with the conversation that this Marci is the ex in question, and she's about to give a warning before Foggy changes the subject. Dancing sounds good, and even though the dance floor is small, the music makes up for it.

Just means more face time with the other patrons of the bar, and more opportunity to maybe catch someone's eye. Or, at the very least, she can have a fun night of dancing instead of finding a fling. Claire follows Foggy out, shimmying right along with him.

"Oh, alright, I see you got some moves!" She laughs and slides her way through some of the other dancers to make space for them. As revealing as the dress is, she'd thought she might try to be careful not to show too much, but if a little extra skin flashes here or there, it can't really be helped. She supposes she has it, so she may as well flaunt it.

Foggy will show more skin as the night goes on himself, but as practiced as he is at this, it will take time. Eventually he'll have open buttons and rolled up sleeves and hair everywhere, but it takes more than a few drinks and some shimmying to get him there.

"I have had my share of dance offs," he admits and it's not even a lie. "Back in college we used to do keg stands and then try to breakdance and I still feel it in my back, but I held my own. Or, that's what the beer tried to convince me, anyway."

Had he partied any more than he did, he wouldn't have probably done as well as he had, but Foggy's always been great in the clutch. He hates being there, but the practice has helped him as long as he's been aware enough to focus on the world.

"You've got that rhythm," Foggy says, allowing Claire to have the spotlight to show off. "Did you dance when you were a kid?"

If Claire shows any more skin, she might be clocked for indecent exposure. While that's the goal later with some lucky person in the bar, she's definitely not going for that now. Still, she's seemingly well practiced at dancing in skimpy things.

Her years of road-tripping of course had included some clubbing. She'd wanted that 'normal twenty-something' experience.

"I did!" she answers brightly. "Dance and cheerleading. And briefly gymnastics, but I decided I wanted to do a horse-riding class instead." Of course she'd been a horse girl.

Now that dance experience shines through, as she twirls and gyrates to the beat. Whatever the song is, it's happy and upbeat, building on her already good mood.

"I can keg stand with the best of 'em, but I can't say I've ever tried to breakdance! Did you do that worm move?"

Snapping his fingers, he nods at Claire's admissions, amused at how much sense all of it makes. She's brilliant and funny and a knockout and multi-talented and that's really the crowd Foggy likes to surround himself with. It's a good group and as Claire continues to make him feel younger than he is, he's thankful they both took this step for themselves and each other.

"As a matter of fact, I did do the worm. Was I any good at it? Hell no! But I wiggled my ass off and if I didn't have lower back problems, I would prove it right now," he practically giggles. Life has gotten considerably more difficult as he's gotten older, a fact that could probably be improved with a little more consistent effort. Too bad Foggy would much rather drink and dance instead.

"Show me what you go. Running Man? Bizmarkie? Brooklyn Stomp?" He grew up in the city and there aren't many examples in his neighborhood he found interest in beyond hip hop, so it makes sense that his head goes right there.

She's laughing right along with him, though she's also pretty impressed. With her background, she could probably do it with some practice, but she's just never tried. It's pretty cool that he has.

And then he's encouraging her to show off a little, which normally would make her shy away from being the center of attention. They're here for her to catch someone's eye, though, aren't they? Claire figures she might as well have some fun with it. Foggy's enthusiasm and confidence are infectious.

Even in heels she moves well, and so it's a smooth transition from her casual dancing to a spin, into a Running Man. It's been years, but it just comes flooding back to her. Not only dance class, but dancing along to music videos back in the day, too. She'd spend hours in her bedroom trying to learn the moves. So she throws in a little more style, turning and sliding, fully showing off for a few moments before she eases back into a two-step.

It's not the room's reaction she looks for, though. No, she wants to see what Foggy thinks, so her attention is back on him. "Well? It's not The Worm, but I still got it."

He's fairly sure that his face is going to hurt in the morning from all the smiling and laughing he's doing, so when Claire makes her way back, it's to the brightest and most welcome reception. Foggy is an excellent hype man and he really enjoys the simple pleasures. Being idiots together to support his friends and family is the least he can do. Not to mention, there's no need to lie when Claire clearly knows how to move any way she pleases.

(If nothing else, it ought to get her a little of that attention she's seeking.)

"You not only got it, but you literally just owned this whole place," he cheers, excitedly. "Awesome! That was awesome. You're pretty much good at everything, aren't you? If you say you like going to the batting cages, I might have to make you a partner."

Claire's still sort of forgotten about catching anyone else's eye for the time being. It's hard when Foggy is singing her praises so much. She grins, perhaps preening a bit, as she strolls back to her spot next to him.

"Nah, I'm not good at everything. I'm pretty lousy at math. But, I do enjoy hitting things, so you could probably pencil me in for an afternoon at the batting cages," she says, laughing breathlessly. It's a little more fun than she's had in a while, and she's soaking it all in.

Standing up a little straighter, she leans over to give Foggy a nudge. "What d'you say we get another drink? Actually kinda thirsty now."

"Look, you don't have to ask me twice," he says, taking Claire's arm into his own and leading her toward the bar. There are a few seats, none next to each other, so Foggy gestures for her to sit and slides into the spot between her and some other guy drinking at the bar.

It doesn't take anything but a gesture to get the bartender's attention, much to other patrons' chagrin, but Foggy's generous tips always do the trick to get him every drop of alcohol he can consume.

"I'm not sure if you're seeing it, but I'm pretty sure everyone here thinks we're together," he notes, amused. "You may have to get out there by yourself. If you give me, like, five minutes, I can push some guys your way."

Whatever Foggy's drinking, once again that's what Claire's having. She carefully climbs up onto the stool, leaning against the bar.

Nope, she definitely hadn't been seeing that. But once he points it out, of course it's obvious. They've been side-by-side from the moment they walked in, and her attention has really only briefly been elsewhere, to get a feel for the rest of the crowd in the bar.

"Uh... yeah, you're probably right." There's a laugh, and she'll definitely be playing off that blush as though she's still just flushed from dancing and not anything else. "Alright, yeah. I just need a minute."

Truth be told, Claire's suddenly a little nervous. Hanging out with Foggy had been kind of a buffer between herself and, well. Everyone else. Not that it'll do anything for her, but she finds herself gulping down her drink. Maybe the placebo effect will kick in and calm her nerves.

"Shit. Okay. What if I don't like anyone here?"

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