While certainly not the worst situation to be in, it had been one hell of an eye opener.
       It wasn’t a lifestyle for him, that was for damn sure. Keeping up a family and a spouse
       was difficult enough at times, let alone maintaining multiple partners doing God knows
       what Elliot had, after being separated from Olivia, witnessed what was likely the similar
       start of Jerry Bullard’s involvement with the swingers’ club in the first place.

                 Getting out of there had taken some convincing of the other parties involved -
                 convincing that needed a little bit of enforcement to get them both away for the
                 night. Elliot felt exhausted even though it hadn’t been all that physically
                 demanding, unlike some of the other patrons. Upon getting back to their hotel
                 room, his jacket was the first to come off, tossed flat onto the bed. He hadn’t
                 worn a tie, luckily, but he still felt stuffy. It wasn’t for him, but they’d gotten lucky,
                 so to speak, with finding out more information about the case, which had been
                 the whole point to this damn venture to begin with.

        He’s about to sit down on the edge of the bed to undo his shoes when Olivia
        calls out to him from the bathroom, and instead pushes away to walk over,
        leaning in the door frame. It takes him a moment to realize it’s the dress that’s
        holding her up. Even now, tired and a little disheveled, she looks just as stunning
        as she did earlier - the thought comes across as a smile. He’s got her back, always.

           “Yeah, I gotcha.”

        Thick fingers aren’t ideal for the small zippers of dresses but from being right
        behind her, he reaches for it well enough to begin pulling gently enough so that
        it doesn’t rip by mistake. Elliot tries not to let his hand linger but a look up to
        the bathroom mirror makes him pause. 

                                        This is my wife, Olivia.

          He’d said it easily, out of necessity for their cover of course,
          but it’d felt so natural all the same. His hand falls away when
          the zipper’s gone down its full length, but doesn’t move away yet.

                                  “We look like we were put through the ringer, huh?”

     her arms wrap across her chest to hold the dress up as elliot’s fingers
     find the zipper. she watches him in the mirror, lips spreading into a small
     smile as their eyes meet. his hands stop working, and she finally lets
     out a sigh as she’s freed from the constricting fabric. she lets out a 
     scoff, and turns to face him.

                   ❛ i wasn’t expecting it to be like that.
                                 the energy in that room was just           ❜

     she shakes her head, unable to put the feeling into words. the energy ….
     wasn’t good. at least, for her. the air in the club was so thick, the amount
     of tension and intimacy between any two people had her feeling like a 
     fish out of water. she was good at covering it up though, and even managed
     to mingle with a couple that provided some good insight to their case.

                              the case. she had to keep reminding herself about the case. that’s
                              why they were there, and they had a job to do. often times being
                              undercover blurred the line between reality and the role they had to
                              play, but olivia wasn’t about to let that happen. not when it was this
                              high stakes.

     using her free hand, the other still clutched over her chest to keep everything
     covered, she pushes elliot back, giving herself enough room to slip past and
     step towards her overnight bag that sat next to her bed. she motions for elliot to
     turn around with her finger, mumbling something about how if he looked at her
     she’d kill him, and she pulled out a set of clothes. her actions are quick, feeling
     awfully exposed as she lets her dress pool at the floor, and she swiftly pulls on 
     a pair of leggings and a zip-up hoodie.

                ❛ some guy bought me a drink tonight… first
                        time in a long time since that happened. ❜

     she laughs, her words signaling that she was decent. stepping around the side
     of the bed, she walks over to the mini fridge only to be faced with a small selection
     of drinks. she huffs, then turns back to sit at the foot of her bed. 

                            ❛ you get lucky tonight? ❜