She'd given Jim her number when they'd happened to meet in the bar, but she hadn't actually expected him to use it. He admitted he was mostly taking her number because his kid gave him grief about not having a life. Having the number was the important thing, not calling it.

But he had used it, and they'd met for drinks a few times since then. Nothing fancy, no pressure, just mostly sitting around and talking about their jobs or movies or music -- unimportant things. Neither of them had been inclined to start talking about religion, politics, or their respective pasts. From that, she'd drawn two conclusions: Jim Hopper had a drinking problem and Jim Hopper was a good man.

Not a nice one, and not necessarily because of the drinking problem. But he was a good one, she liked him, and she wondered what it said about her that she kept realizing she usually only really liked demonstrably imperfect people. If a person was too perfect, too handsome, or too nice, she was suspicious of what they were hiding. Madeline would have been all over this, if she'd been here, and would have added a few pages to the psych profile for Nikita. Next thing Nikita knew, they'd have her targeting whatever equivalent of Jim Hopper they could find for a Valentine Op.

Fortunately for her (and Jim's future survival), Madeline wasn't here, and Nikita was. She'd invited Jim for drinks, just like usual, but tonight she wasn't planning to leave the bar alone. She didn't know what would happen after she didn't leave the bar alone, but she'd figure that out when she got there.