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Marisol had been stopped in her surveillance the moment she set foot in the--it wasn't quite a ballroom, she thought, as she took in the wood floors and a small stage that looked fit for a band--perhaps a multi-purpose room. It looked like it could be used as a conference or music room. Once the debris was shoved out of the way, she noted.

It wasn't by any means easy work. The more she tried to clean it up, the more she wondered exactly what had happened in here. Though, considering the circumstances, she supposed she knew. Hysteria.

The record player was in astoundingly good condition--some of the records, not so much--when she found it, safely ensconced underneath a broken backed chair. She poked and prodded at it, a thought forming when the tinny sound of long ago jazz began to pipe out. It wasn't live and it wasn't exactly a club but maybe.

Nabbing a few items she'd left earlier when she'd tried to fortify the main room, she came back and gave the room a quick dusting and polish. It might have been the most efficient use of her time or of her status but then mental and emotional health was something too many people forgot about. And so, to her, it was exactly what needed to be done. In the end, it might help these people, too. But first...

Marisol found Rose parting from Tom and smiled, as she approached, "I see you've met the doctor." She was glad to see her but, but at the same time, worried. There had only been a brief moment when she'd seen the other woman earlier and she'd not had a chance to see how she was. She had yet to see Cas or Rasmus either and that added to the concern. These three, they had to remain safe.

She returned the hug, eyes skirting up to the scratch on her cheek, before the other woman pulled away. As blue eyes roamed her body, she chuckled.

"I'm all right. Those birds are harder to kill than they look," she admitted with a loose shrug of her shoulders. There were slight wounds, none that had amounted to anything more than scratches although the one on her abdomen stung like hell when she'd tried to clean it. "A few scratches but nothing that won't heal," she promised. "And you?"

It was a relief to hear that Cas was all right and she nodded, "I saw you, just for a moment, before the chaos took over. I'm glad Cas is safe and while you might feel better now, I found something," she grinned, lips curled just enough to make her wonder what the intention of the something was. "Would you like to see?" She didn't let up on the pop of innuendo; it wasn't needed but she wanted this to be a surprise. What better way was there than to give an idea that was blatantly wrong?

"It's more than something, I'd say," genuine, "He'll have to teach us that someday if there's going to be more of this insanity." She added a touch of humor to the last word; while it was an extremely fitting word, it was also a bit of an exaggeration. She didn't want the other woman to worry about the future, neither did she want to think of it yet.

The grin widened, "That I did." No hint, no suggestion added. Just an affirmation.

Marisol took Rose's hand, squeezing it gently, "This way," she instructed. She only barely took the lead, careful to keep the distance between them small, eyes watching the surroundings and the ground to make sure they were safe.

It wasn't a long journey. If anything it was mostly the knowledge of which door to take or which hallway to turn down. This building was a lot larger than one would imagine. Strangely, despite that, getting lost seemed to take more work than otherwise. But this room was off the more normalized path and she gave a wink over her shoulder before opening the twin wooden doors. And motioned the blonde in, waiting to see what her first thought would be. Honestly, she wouldn't blame her if she didn't notice the record player--she'd purposely turned it off to avoid drawing in anyone else.

A chuckle, "Oh he'd try, hard to say if he'd succeed," she teased. There was a chance the man's brain might short-circuit for a time if he was ever presented with both of them, ready and willing and at his disposal. It was an amusing thought, even if she thought it unlikely, for now.

She took in the reaction, pleased when the the grin formed, "It is." The confirmation was out and then the tables were turned. She hadn't considered that idea, though it was possible. Ballet was her forte though she'd taken contemporary classes early in her training--it conflicted too much with the graceful lines of her profession, she found. Contemporary was all about edge, angst in right angles and she'd ended up finding no passion for it. The strictness of ballroom had had more potential but she'd always cared for ballet more; the mask and grace coupled with a deceptive lightness and ease had always spoken to the con woman in her.

"Well, I might," she considered, reluctant as she released the songstress's hand, and made her way over to the record player. "I thought, however..." She didn't finish as she turned on the tinny jazz tones she'd heard before. Turning, she indicated the music with a smile.

If she'd known she was holding her breath, she might have looked more like the cat that ate the canary. As she hadn't, she looked far more like a cat who was smitten with the canary--although with the wide-eyes perhaps she had it backwards. Not that it mattered, Rose seemed to quite like the surprise and that was really all that counted.

"Serendipity," she agreed, voice equally soft as she was approached. New thoughts sprung to mind and she had to pause, wondering what her original intention had been. Oh, right. It was a great thing this woman had never been a mark; she'd have turned into one of those romantic comedy cliches.

"You know, I was going to say this was a perfect opportunity to hear a solo. This does seem your venue, music wise," she began and then reached out to take hold of the woman's hand again. "Now that you mention it, though," she took a step forward, "it's been awhile since I have had such a wonderful reason to practice slow dancing."

It never ceased to amaze her just how well they seemed to fit together, despite the difference in height. Nor how right it felt when they were together. There had been dates and much more in her past but nothing that was like this. Electric and--she wasn't sure there were words that could describe these feelings that blossomed whenever she was so near this woman. Between her and Cas and even Rasmus...

The space between them evaporated and somehow only the comforting warmth and consistent beat of her heart eclipsed the music. It was no surprise when Rose's voice easily cut through, made the song from the record player soar into the air around them. She didn't even consider trying to steal the lead, though her hands were steady and confident in the hold.

A blush flared--subtle under her tanned skin--as the lyrics took flight from the woman's mouth. She sung like sweet, rich wine while being enveloped in silk sheets. Yes, siren was the perfect description for this voice. The urge to follow the lyrics suggestion was strong but she held back. Only just. She was glad, however, that she hadn't known what the song was. It was a bit too on the nose, knowing them would have made everything obvious. Even if she knew, that the feelings that were swelling up were far more mutual than not.

There was no stiffness as the ballerina let her hands be guided to the woman's waist. In fact, once given permission, her grip was pleasantly firm. And it was likely more comfortable for the both of them. The warmth of skin through her light sweater only made her realize how cool the building was, not at all cold but just enough that curling up next to a sweetheart was a welcome idea. A smile pulled at her lips; that was a grand idea.

"Now I know there's a lot of people out there pining for you," she told Rose as the the last lyric was sung. As the blonde's breath played through the strands of brown hair against her ear, she let her hand slide around to the woman's back, holding her close in a hug.

Safety and peace seemed to reign as they stood there, "You deserve the world and while that's a present I can't give, I can make sure you're here to see it." It was supposed to be light and yet the word were full to the brim, bursting, with genuine care and connection. A clear sign that while flirting was fun, this was not just that.

The smile burst into a full fledged grin. She had hardly played it subtle and now that the question was out there--perhaps not in such words that would demand this connection either flourish or wither--an invisible weight lifted from her shoulders. To say she hadn't noticed that there was any questions, any anxieties, about her interactions with this woman... She had only to answer the question.

"Have I been that subtle?" she wondered. She arched her lower back, to increase the distance between their faces lightly. Hands that had been so content on the blonde's waist, slipped upward and gently framed the woman's face, palms against cheeks. "Forgive me if my intentions have been questionable, Rose. As much as I enjoy the flirtation, there's much much more between us. And I hope it continues to flourish."

Except there was also whatever was between them and Cas. Which made her question whether it was right to act on the impulse, the ambiance, that said now was the moment to seal such sentiments with a kiss. A compromise then, she thought, as she pushed herself up and onto her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of the woman's mouth.