I Love boobs and Wine

23rd October 2012

Photo reblogged from Champion of Procrastination with 162 notes

racethewind10:

sassy-lesbian:

The name’s Wells. H.G. Wells. 

For the scene I lifted, see this. 

~*~

“I’m the money,” the stunning, impeccably dressed brunette with shrewd green eyes and a self-assure smile said without preamble as she tossed her purse into the next seat.

Wells didn’t bother to hide the appreciative glance. After all, the woman was wearing perfectly tailored clothes that accented her lean figure and if that purse she treated so casually hadn’t cost at least a thousand dollars, the agent would eat her jacket. 

“Every penny of it,” Wells murmured, falling easily into the camouflage of innuendo laden banter. 

Her new companion, however, merely responded with the most subtle eye roll Wells had ever seen, turning what should have been a childish gesture into a sophisticated rebuttal.  

Wells felt a grin tugging her lips. This one was going to be fun.

 ”The treasury has agreed to stake you in the game,” the other woman continued, not phased in the least as she slid a simple white business card across the table. Wells took a moment to appreciate the slender elegance of the fingers holding the slip of paper before reading what was written in familiar gold lettering under the stamp of the Royal Treasury. 

“Myka Bering.” 

“Myka,” Wells eyebrow quirked. “I imagine you got quite a lot of hell for that in your school days.” 

And once again, the agent found herself ignored. Instead Ms. Bering merely thanked the waiter with a polite smile and turned to her menu. 

“Your boss must be quite well connected,” Myka said casually. “I’ve never seen quite so much walk out the door quite so quickly.” 

“Or so stylishly,” Helena tossed back, her tone and posture equally casual. They were, after all, merely two people on a train. 

Full lips graced Wells’ direction with another polite smile, subtly acknowledging the compliment, but Bering did not reply. The agent did not often find her charms so utterly ineffective and she found it moderately intriguing. “May I ask where it is,” she asked, toying gently with her scotch and rocks. Her eyes, however, never left Ms. Bering’s face. 

Partly because she needed to read Myka’s reactions, and partly because Ms. Bering had a most lovely face and Wells had no compunction about enjoying the view while it was so generously afforded to her. 

“10 million was wired to your account in Montenegro, with a contingency for five more, if I deem it a prudent investment,” Bering replied easily, glancing up from her menu. Helena decided she liked the other woman’s voice. Clear and steady, with a pleasing tenor. “I suppose you’ve given some thought to the notion that if you lose, our government will have directly financed terrorism.” And the way she said it, so delightfully pointed, made it very clear that Myka Bering was of the opinion Agent Wells damn well should have been thinking about it. 

For the first time, Helena had no answer. 

Nor apparently had Bering been expecting one, because she turned back to the menu almost immediately. “What looks good?” 

~*~

Dinner was unsurprisingly pleasant. They talked of insignificant things while they ate. The food was excellent. Helena barely noticed it. As the train raced on through the evening gloom, she found herself truly enjoying simply watching Ms. Bering’s face, her mouth, her elegant hands. It wasn’t often one was allowed such attractive company, after all. 

And then, because it was bound to, the conversation turned to poker. 

Helena had learned to play poker in the back rooms of Irish pubs where an English accent might well get you killed, forget simply being thrown out.  The upcoming game was, for her, merely another mission, not even particularly noteworthy but for her current monetary caretaker. 

“So you’re telling me it’s a matter of probability and odds,” Myka leaned forward, for just a moment showing what might have been genuine interest. In the soft golden light of the train’s car, her eyes sparkled like Emeralds. “I was worried there was chance involved.” 

Helena finished pouring them both another glass of wine. “Hmm only if you assume the player with the best hand wins.” 

Myka rested her chin on one hand, her expression somewhere between teasing and challenging. “So that would be what you call bluffing?” 

Now it was Helena’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You’ve heard the term. Then you’ll know that in poker you almost never play your hand. You play the man across from you.”

“And you’re good at reading people.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes I am.” Helena didn’t hesitate. “Which is why I’ve been able to detect and undercurrent of sarcasm in your voice.”

“Ah, well now I’m assured our money is in good hands.” Her voice was richer somehow, when she was deliberating bating Helena. Wells smiled inwardly.

“You don’t think this is a very good plan, do you?”

“Oh so there is a plan?  I got the impression we were risking millions of dollars and hundreds of lives, on a game of luck. What else can you surmise Miss Wells?” 

The scenery outside the train, the other occupants of the car, all of it had long since faded for Helena. A startling lapse given that situational awareness was drilled into agents like her from the first day of training. But Helena couldn’t bring herself to care. The darkness outside created the illusion that she and Myka were alone in their own little world, and this sarcastic, biting wit the agent found herself engaged against drew her like a moth to a flame. That said wit was housed in the body of a stunningly beautiful woman just added to Helena’s delight. 

“About you Miss Bering?” Helena leaned forward ever so slightly. She never had been one to back away from a challenge, and Myka had thrown the gauntlet. “Well your beauty is a problem. You worry you won’t be taken seriously.” 

The scoff in Myka’s voice was clear. “Which one can say of any attractive woman with half a brain.” 

“True,” Helena volleyed back. “But this one overcompensates by wearing slightly masculine clothing, stunningly tailored though it is and being more aggressive than her  female colleagues. All of which gives her a slightly….prickly demeanor…And ironically enough makes it less likely for her to be accepted and promoted by her male superiors, who mistake her insecurities for arrogance.” 

Myka’s expression was the same, half-amused mask that she’d worn for most of the night, but Helena was beginning to see what lay under that mask. She was hitting close to home. 

“Now i’d have normally gone with only child, but by the way you ignored that quip about your parents, I’m going to have to go with orphan.” 

Helena settled back, waiting to have her theories proven or disproven. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised when the tables were turned on her. 

“All right,” Myka pursed her lips briefly. “By the cut of your suit you went to Oxford or wherever, and actually think humans dress like that. But you wear it with such disdain. My guess is you didn’t come from money and your school friends never let your forget it.” 

Helena’s hand twitched below the table. The only reaction she allowed herself as the memories - and the sting they still carried - came flooding back. Oh yes, Ms. Bering was right on target. But Myka wasn’t done just yet. 

“Which means you were at that school by the grace of someone else’s charity. Hence the chip on your shoulder. And since your first thought about me was orphan, that’s what I’d say you are.” 

Helena’s jaw clenched slightly and she cursed herself inwardly for the slip. 

“Oh you are,” Myka said with an amount of delight Helena would have found unseemly if it weren’t also so damnably arousing. It wasn’t often someone could strip her history bare and serve it to her on a platter. Most people - men or women - never got past her face, or her body, and she used them both like weapons. 

How long had it been since someone had challenged her mind? 

“And that makes perfect sense,” Myka continued, apparently not aware of the quit detour of Helena’s thoughts. “Because MI-6 looks for mal-adjusted young men and women who give little thought to sacrificing themselves and others in the name of Queen and Country. You know, former secret service types with easy smiles and expensive watches.” 

As if to drive home her point, Myka looked directly at where Helena’s watch hand rested under the table. “Rolex?” she queried. 

“Omega,” Helena replied easily. Now that she knew what was happening, it was easier for her to simply sit back and take the beating. After all, the agent supposed she had it coming. And from such a beautiful source…she couldn’t truly be that sorry. 

“Beautiful,” Myka said, and her voice made the word into a sin Helena wanted to commit. 

“Now, having just met you, I wouldn’t go so far as to call you a cold-hearted bitch.”

“No, of course not,” Helena almost smiled, following the line of Myka’s attack easily. 

“But it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine you think of women as disposable pleasures and not meaningful pursuits. So as charming as you are, Ms. Wells, I will be keeping my eye on our government’s money, and off your perfectly formed ass.” 

“You noticed,” Helena acceded, secretly flattered despite herself. 

“Even accountants have imaginations,” Myka shot back archly. 

And with that, Myka stood, gathering up her purse. 

Helena stood with her, confirming her suspicion that the other woman was just a hair taller in her low heels, and that her legs truly did seem to go on forever. 

“How was your lamb?” Myka asked breezily, slipping back into their personas of just two people on the train. 

“Skewered,” Helena answered, seeing no reason not to accede the victory where it was so richly due. “One sympathizes.” 

Myka Bering’s smile in return was something H.G. Wells would not soon forget. 

“Good evening, Miss. Wells.” 

“Good evening, Miss. Bering.”

And then, despite feeling rather as though she’d been dragged through the ringer, Helena had the unalloyed pleasure of watching Miss Bering walk away. 

“Speaking of a perfectly formed ass,” she muttered to herself before sitting back down and taking a hearty sip of her wine. 

H.G. Wells’ mission had just become significantly more interesting. 

Tagged: Warehouse 13BERING AND WELLS

Source: sassy-lesbian

11th October 2012

Photo reblogged from I Need the Food So That I Can Swan Queen with 99 notes

Tagged: Myka BeringOpheliawarehouse 13

Source: i-kill-people-i-like95

2nd October 2012

Photo reblogged from Champion of Procrastination with 107 notes

racethewind10:

illshootformyownhand:

tara-to-a-t:

illshootformyownhand:

Best part of the episode for me. Myka!Dagger Research Papers.

Is this Joanne’s way of subtext? Putting her mouth in something H.G must’ve touched before

If this is all Bering&Wells we’re having, I’ll take it. 

lulz.

i just see it as myka being so quick to absorb info and get right into a case, she ignores social decorum and will hold things in her mouth. but your idea is more awesome.

Your theory is way more likely though - it’s definetely in character for her to forget about decorum just so she can learn the info quicker ^^

(As much as I love Myka putting things HG might have touched in her mouth) I agree ^ this was really classic Myka. Especially in the face of a crisis. Everything else going on around her just gets pushed aside for a few minutes. She has to know what is in those papers. Not only because it might provide some kind of answer, some kind of possibility for a way out of this horrible, horrible situation, but because for just a few seconds, mere heartbeats, while she’s reading, absorbing, learning…she’s not hurting. That’s all she gets - just a heartbeat or two - but she’ll cling to it like a drowning man to a piece of wood. 

The notes are probably written in Helena’s elegant handwriting though, which just means that the connection is all the more powerful. She can imagine Helena bent over a desk, a pile of research material (or a computer) at one side of her while she scribbles notes. And that knowledge just makes the sense of loss when she looks up and comes out of that “moment” all the more painful.  Because for just an instant, Myka was with her, with Helena, learning what she learned, seeing the connections she saw…their minds racing apace, even separated by distance and time…

And then the moment was gone, she’d finished the notes, and Helena was taken from her…again. 

Tagged: Myka BeringWarehouse 13

Source: nevereverleaveneverland

18th September 2012

Photo reblogged from The Party in My Head with 145 notes

rhyfeddu-partyofone:

musingsofaraven:

So, what if Myka *did* notice HG right then, but didn’t say anything, and they’ll be using Myka’s knowing that HG was there as a plot device in future episodes…

Oh, a month ago, I would’ve been all over the Spec train on this one…Not as eager to go there now…

Cause, cause…(dammit)…Myka is the one who notices things. She sees the details. It’s her thing. So how could she not register this? When they showed her doing her thing with the Tully’s Gym clues in the very same episode?

But there also have been several instances where they had people being artificially dumber than they are to further the plot, too, so I’m not as convinced that it’s not just another instance of that, now…(I’d love to be wrong about that tho).

Tagged: Warehouse 13Myka x HG

Source: helenastacie

18th September 2012

Photo reblogged from I Need the Food So That I Can Swan Queen with 49 notes

racethewind10:

rhyfeddu-partyofone:

Is it wrong that I’m kinda happy that Amanda is still one of Pete’s “loved ones” and the one to be apparently targeted? Not new squeeze, Deb? It’s just…nice. And, Jeri Ryan.

I do find my though processes are pretty much “Oh, cool! —Blank— is a guest star! Oh, wait, they may kill them…”

dude they can’t kill Jeri Ryan’s character off and deprive us a chance to see her in uniform again. That’s just inhumane

Tagged: Jeri RyanWarehouse 13

Source: crazycat9449