Today was the day it was going to happen.

Today he was going to get at least a smile out of her, if not her phone number.

Klavier checked his appearance in the mirror he would most emphatically deny having on his person at all times. Yes, the hair was perfect, the teeth sparkling white, the skin beautifully tanned, the shirt perfectly black and sans creases, the jacket in top condition, and the G of his necklace just shiny enough.

Perfect.

Strike One – In The Field

Ema was a detective, and as much as it wasn't what she wanted, it was her job, and she'd do it. She'd do it well.

The scene's evidence had been bagged, and the forensics evidence defended from the public by the all important crime scene tape, and of course tarpaulins. It was almost perfect.

"Fraulein!"

She groaned inwardly. The perfection that had seemed to be in reach disappeared. Why couldn't he respect their arrangement of her investigating the scene on his behalf and writing a report for him? It was the arrangement he'd had with the detective before her, she wasn't entirely sure why he wasn't happy to continue it. Sure, it was more work, but it kept him (and his fans) away from the more important scenes.

"Ah, fraulein, you should not work so hard, you should not do so much!" His arm swung around her shoulders, tugging her close to him. She rolled her eyes. He smelt of something expensive and probably German. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, but that didn't mean it was what she wanted.

"I'm afraid I have a job to do, I can't just play guitar in my office all day." She replied curtly, glancing at his arm, pondering whether to move it or not.

"But dear fraulein, you...are a flower." He smiled warmly at her, his arm moving from simply dangling over her shoulder to resting a hand on her waist, a slightly more intimate gesture.

She considered moving his hand, but wasn't quite sure where. "Am I? What kind of flower am I?" She replied drily.

He grinned wolfishly, something in his eyes she couldn't quite place. "The kind of flower I would like to pluck."

Fuming, she moved easily from his hold on her and slapped him. "I'll have a report for you later, sir." She growled, her voice dripping with contempt.

Swing and a miss

Strike Two – In The Office

It was fine, that she had slapped him like that – clearly he had stepped over a line. He had to remember that she was a professional, he should keep his flirtations subtle.

He should make sure he was respectful of her, and her boundries.

Chicks dug that.

He recognised her knock – it always sounded resentful and angry. "Come in." He called, as professionally as he could.

She entered, not looking best pleased. "Your report. Although you've seen the crime scene, so why you need this I'm not sure. " She glared at him, as if to say Oh wait, it's because you spend your time at crime scenes terrorising young women.

"I believe an apology is in order, fraule – Ema."

Her hands went to her hips. "I am not apologising for rejecting your advances in the only way I can make you understand." She kept her voice as level as possible, but he could tell she was struggling to control her frustration with him.

"Nein, nein! I meant that I should apologise...I should've known better. I'm sorry."

She eyed him with some suspicion. "Well. Yes. You should." She was off guard. "Thank you." She said finally, apparently unsure of what to make of this.

He sighed. "But you must forgive me for forgetting myself around you, Ema, you bring out the romantic in me..."

And suddenly she knew exactly what to make of it. "So, it's my fault you have to come and irritate me?" She sounded calm. Sounded being the operative word.

"The fault of your lovely face, meine liebling." He smiled sadly, as if to ask her what he was meant to do, with her distracting him all the time.

"Then it makes much more sense for you to avoid me." She replied, keeping her rage under control as far as he could tell, although he did get the horrible feeling that if he put a foot wrong she would explode and possibly try to garrotte him with her hair-tie.

He opened his mouth, considering what to say. "Well. Technically. But – "

"Let me make your life easier." She opened the door. "As your employee, surely, that's my duty." She stomped out of his office.

Well. She hadn't slapped him.

Swing and a miss.

Strike 3 – In The Bar

She had made good on her threat. Or suggestion. Whichever you wanted to call it. She hadn't been around.

She had disappeared from his life.

Over a day.

And he'd noticed. That was the worst part. He'd really noticed her not being there.

He'd entered a room and he'd seen her leave, and it had hurt.

He'd smelt her perfume in the corridor but she was nowhere to be seen, and he had wondered how long he'd known the perfume she wore.

He was drinking. "Another, charming barmaiden, please." He smiled charmingly at the pretty girl behind the bar.

She sighed. "Girl trouble, sweetie?" She leaned over the bar – she really was a pretty thing, with dark green hair (he guessed it was dyed but you could never be sure) and dark eyes. "She can't be too bright to let you go." She had a light Southern accent, which was what had inspired the Southern Comfort in his glass.

"Nein, she is the brightest fraulein I know. But she does not respond to my flirtations." He looked mournfully at his glass, then the barmaid. "I do not understand what I am doing wrong."

"Don't give him any more."

He looked up to see Ema, a stern look on her face. She wasn't in her usual work clothes, instead she was sporting jeans and a scarlet camisole, a black bolero over the top. She was probably meeting friends for a drink.

He didn't know whether he should be pleased or not.

"Oh?" The barmaid wasn't sure.

"Yeah, he's not a great drunk. But a JD and coke would be great." She sat on the stool beside Klavier's, before focussing on him. "What are you doing?"

"Fraulein, fraulein..." One last try. One last ditch attempt. "...do you have any German in you?"

She frowned. "...you're drunk. You know that I don't."

"Would you like some?" He grinned lecherously.

She took the drink the barmaid had given her and was about to throw it over him, before she stopped. "No. Not worth wasting good liquor on you." She stood up, leaving him alone again.

Swing and a miss - you're outta there!

The barmaid frowned. "If that's your flirting, I can't really blame her."

"I'm better at it when I'm sober." He replied, face down on the bar. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you." The barmaid replied, placing a glass of water in front of him. "She would've ignored you if she did. Or laughed at you. Or pushed you off the stool."

He glanced up.

"I've seen a lot." She shrugged. "Have you tried...not flirting with her?"

He frowned. "Eh?"

"Why not just talk to her? Listen to her. Take her seriously."

"I do..." He mumbled. "Whenever we work on a case, I take her opinions very seriously."

"And when you're not working on a case?"

"I treat her as a beautiful woman should be treated!"

"...by flirting with her all the time?"

"...that's how beautiful women are treated." He replied petulantly, resenting the way this barmaid was making him feel about two inches tall.

"You're jumping from an is to an ought. The naturalistic fallacy." She sighed, before noting his perplexed look. "Sorry, I'm a philosophy major. Just because that's how beautiful women are treated, doesn't mean it's how they want to be treated."

Ema took up a seat at the bar, one away from Klavier. "Can I get some service over here? The guys in the corner were getting increasingly creepy."

The barmaid moved to her. "They get that way after a few drinks, they like brunettes." She smiled slightly. "I used to be one."

"Nice. I'll dye my hair green."

"Nein! Nein, your hair is beautiful, I love its colour." Klavier protested, reaching out to her. "It suits you so well..."

Ema raised her eyebrows, exchanging a glance with the barmaid, who shrugged. "JD and coke again?"

The barmaid set to getting her drink, giving Klavier a pointed look.

Klavier sighed. "I am a fool, fraulein."

"No argument here, fop." Ema replied simply.

"I have treated you badly. You probably believe that I only think of you as a beautiful woman I wish to bed, but this is not true, fraulein, I think of you as...as...an interesting person."

"An interesting person." She repeated, taking the drink the barmaid had brought to her.

"Ja, you are most intelligent and interesting, you are even witty, if cruel."

"Only when you're driving me mad." She reasoned, although it sounded warmer than he would've expected.

"I shall try not to, in the future." He sighed. "Have I ruined my chances with you, Ema?"

"Your chances?" She frowned. "You're actually interested in me?"

He stared at her. "Of course!"

"I thought you were just practicing on me." She took another sip of her drink. "I didn't think that –"

He shook his head. "Nein, nein, you were not practice, you were..." He trailed off.

Ema didn't seem sure of herself at all. She looked over to the door. "My friends are here, I have to go." Finishing her drink, she got up to leave.

"You are not meeting in here?"

"No, no, we usually meet outside, I just got here too early, and saw you in here..." She smiled, everso slightly. "Look, maybe, when you're sober..."

He smiled hopefully. "Dinner? Tomorrow."

She nodded. "But none of your flirting." She warned, starting to leave.

"Ema?"

She turned back to him.

"Thank you." His smile was slightly stupefied, due to the alcohol, but it was adorable nevertheless. "You are a wonderful woman."

She grinned, despite herself – he was strangely cute like this, appealingly vulnerable without his facade in place. "Thank you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Now sober up."

With these words she was gone, and Klavier leaned his head against the bar in a happy stupor, eyes closing.

"You can't fall asleep in here."

Oh hai there weird ending! How y'doing?

Hope you enjoyed that, just a quick one which wouldn't leave me alone :3 The first terrible, terrible line about flowers is from The Masterson Inheritance, an amazing radio show that nobody has heard of (sad. times.), and the last one is one which got into my head and wouldn't leave, even though it fit with nothing I was writing at the time.

I'm not completely sure about the whole baseball thing. Essentially this fic is here because I wrote it quickly and it made me happy, but I'll look on it again and be all "whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

ANYWAYS, YOU GUYS. I don't own any of the characters, apart from the barmaid, who appears in quite a few things I write...ilu, green-haired Southern Belle barmaid (...in my head she's Southern Belle, not even gonna try writing her accent) Suzie.

Maaaaaybe sequel? Eh. We'll see. Probably not, it doesn't go well when I try.

All of my stories so far start with an S! How exciting! It'll change next upload, with a bit of luck :3