Perhaps by now it had been a few hours since the man's arrival to what was said to be paradise. Perhaps he'd finally unpacked his last box? Perhaps he realized that he needed groceries... as well as a few other random household things.
Drake was pushing a buggy infront of him that had assorted meat, veggies, eggs, milk, pop, bread, among others. He stopped in the cereal aisle, those chocolate colored eyes scanning all the boxes slowly. Man, he was indecisive..
The detective was dressed in dark jeans and a grey t-shirt due to the heat lately. On his feet were black weathered leather boots. Strong arms folded over his chest as he crossed them. Just... Pick... One... Honey Combs or Reeses Puffs? That was the question rolling around in the man's head.
Drake was pushing a buggy infront of him that had assorted meat, veggies, eggs, milk, pop, bread, among others. He stopped in the cereal aisle, those chocolate colored eyes scanning all the boxes slowly. Man, he was indecisive..
The detective was dressed in dark jeans and a grey t-shirt due to the heat lately. On his feet were black weathered leather boots. Strong arms folded over his chest as he crossed them. Just... Pick... One... Honey Combs or Reeses Puffs? That was the question rolling around in the man's head.
“Get your fucking hands out of my basket, Greg!” Came a raspy shout from the next aisle over.
Rowen was standing in the aisle that housed TV dinners and other quickly prepared foods. She was holding a blue shopping basket in one hand, while swinging at a tall, lanky, balding man with the other hand.
She was wearing a dark purple tank top and home cut jean shorts, her pair of cheap, orange flip flops on her feet. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun, much too hot today to have hair hanging on her neck. Her pale skin was dewy from the heat, and she looked rather angry.
“Go find your own fucking box of Mac and cheese, you damn meth head!” Rowen was hollering, while giving the much taller man a hard shove to his boney chest. It wasn’t like she was emotionally attached to this box of noodles, but Rowen was a very territorial woman. She didn’t have much, never had, so she was very protective over the things that were her’s.
Greg was the local hobo, and meth head. Greg also suffered badly from a case of sticky fingers. He was well known for wandering around the area, looking for things to thieve and sell for his next hit. Or just taking random things for seemingly no good reason.
“I dunno where da boxes are.” Was Greg’s pathetic excuse, as he attempted to reach into Rowen’s basket once again.
His reach was met by a stingy smack, and a nasty look on the alluring woman’s face.
“Greg, if you try it again, I’m going to break off your dirty, little fingers and eat them like Cheetos.” Rowen warned, glaring up at the tall man, who was obviously tweaking out.
Sure, most people would avoid others such as Greg, like the plague. They’d let him take the box and go about their business, as long as it was far away from him. Try not to “poke the bear”, or whatever that quote was. But, Rowen wasn’t much good at following that rule, suppose she liked to get mauled. Rowen had grown up with people like Greg surrounding her and her life. Heck, her own parents had been different forms of Greg. She wasn’t afraid of these people, wasn’t intimidated by them. Wasn’t intimated by much actually.
Rowen met his glossy, red eyes directly with her poisonous glare, watching as his eyes rolled while he debated what to do next up in that foggy head of his.
Rowen was standing in the aisle that housed TV dinners and other quickly prepared foods. She was holding a blue shopping basket in one hand, while swinging at a tall, lanky, balding man with the other hand.
She was wearing a dark purple tank top and home cut jean shorts, her pair of cheap, orange flip flops on her feet. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun, much too hot today to have hair hanging on her neck. Her pale skin was dewy from the heat, and she looked rather angry.
“Go find your own fucking box of Mac and cheese, you damn meth head!” Rowen was hollering, while giving the much taller man a hard shove to his boney chest. It wasn’t like she was emotionally attached to this box of noodles, but Rowen was a very territorial woman. She didn’t have much, never had, so she was very protective over the things that were her’s.
Greg was the local hobo, and meth head. Greg also suffered badly from a case of sticky fingers. He was well known for wandering around the area, looking for things to thieve and sell for his next hit. Or just taking random things for seemingly no good reason.
“I dunno where da boxes are.” Was Greg’s pathetic excuse, as he attempted to reach into Rowen’s basket once again.
His reach was met by a stingy smack, and a nasty look on the alluring woman’s face.
“Greg, if you try it again, I’m going to break off your dirty, little fingers and eat them like Cheetos.” Rowen warned, glaring up at the tall man, who was obviously tweaking out.
Sure, most people would avoid others such as Greg, like the plague. They’d let him take the box and go about their business, as long as it was far away from him. Try not to “poke the bear”, or whatever that quote was. But, Rowen wasn’t much good at following that rule, suppose she liked to get mauled. Rowen had grown up with people like Greg surrounding her and her life. Heck, her own parents had been different forms of Greg. She wasn’t afraid of these people, wasn’t intimidated by them. Wasn’t intimated by much actually.
Rowen met his glossy, red eyes directly with her poisonous glare, watching as his eyes rolled while he debated what to do next up in that foggy head of his.
What... was... that? New question crept into his thoughts at the assault of what once was silence. Should he poke his head around the corner, check things out? Or, should he stay put and ignore it? Blend in, lay low.. His boss's words rang out in his skull. A subtle little smirk slid over his features as he realized he recognized that female voice. She had helped him out so he could return the favor. The box of Reeses Puffs was snagged and tossed into his buggy and he made his way to the aisle the other two were in right about the time Greg said he didn't know where the boxes were. Damn, her response though.
"Whatcha lookin for?" Drake spoke up to Greg as he parked his buggy near Rowen's. A warm smile was flashed to the woman, "Heya. Who's your charming little friend?" Sarcasm, obviously, with the way chocolate orbs also locked onto the meth head. Maybe that's why he came over? He heard the word 'meth' and wanted to get a look at the guy. He was here to bring down a drug lord, so guys like this would be good to use for that. He needed to remember that face.
The detective was showing far more confidence than he had on that first encounter. If Greg could read people at all, perhaps he would recognize that authoritative tone laced into his voice. The was no fear in this man either, even when faced with someone a normal person would avoid like the plague. He had never been normal.
"Whatcha lookin for?" Drake spoke up to Greg as he parked his buggy near Rowen's. A warm smile was flashed to the woman, "Heya. Who's your charming little friend?" Sarcasm, obviously, with the way chocolate orbs also locked onto the meth head. Maybe that's why he came over? He heard the word 'meth' and wanted to get a look at the guy. He was here to bring down a drug lord, so guys like this would be good to use for that. He needed to remember that face.
The detective was showing far more confidence than he had on that first encounter. If Greg could read people at all, perhaps he would recognize that authoritative tone laced into his voice. The was no fear in this man either, even when faced with someone a normal person would avoid like the plague. He had never been normal.
Greg looked to be growing angry, taking a small step closer to Rowen and her basket of items, which she stood her ground in response to, just glaring. But, when the sound of another male voice pierced his foggy mind, Greg turned to face the stranger.
“Um... nothin’.” Greg muttered, immediately turning his face towards the floor upon seeing the man, avoiding all eye contact and seeming bashful. “I, um, just need’a get some smokes.” The tweaker mumbled, still refusing to look up at Rowen or the man who’d approached them. After an awkward moment of silence, he shuffled off quickly around the next aisle.
Rowen’s glare followed him until he disappeared, then she turned the gaze to Drake, before letting it soften. “Hey,” She greeted, offering a flash of a small smile. “Thanks. That guy’s a looney.” She muttered bitterly, holding the blue hand basket closer to herself and looking off after Greg again.
A twinkle charmed Rowen’s green eyes as she turned them back to Drake. “Hey, aren’t you the new guy who moved to Paradise? Drake, right?” Those pretty, brown eyes were hard to forget. “You ever have to deal with guys like that in wherever you came from?”
Rowen had a fantasy about big, wealthy cities- which she was only assuming Drake had come from, for some reason. She imagined them to be full of tall, sparkling sky scrapers that reached the clouds, fancy people, pretty clothing. In her imagination, there were not people who used drugs on the side walls, people who sat outside of buildings and drank themselves stupid, there were not reasons for the citizens to want to forget their lives. In big, wealthy cities, things were all sparkle and glitter, everyone was fancy and happy. She’d never been to any place like that before.
“Um... nothin’.” Greg muttered, immediately turning his face towards the floor upon seeing the man, avoiding all eye contact and seeming bashful. “I, um, just need’a get some smokes.” The tweaker mumbled, still refusing to look up at Rowen or the man who’d approached them. After an awkward moment of silence, he shuffled off quickly around the next aisle.
Rowen’s glare followed him until he disappeared, then she turned the gaze to Drake, before letting it soften. “Hey,” She greeted, offering a flash of a small smile. “Thanks. That guy’s a looney.” She muttered bitterly, holding the blue hand basket closer to herself and looking off after Greg again.
A twinkle charmed Rowen’s green eyes as she turned them back to Drake. “Hey, aren’t you the new guy who moved to Paradise? Drake, right?” Those pretty, brown eyes were hard to forget. “You ever have to deal with guys like that in wherever you came from?”
Rowen had a fantasy about big, wealthy cities- which she was only assuming Drake had come from, for some reason. She imagined them to be full of tall, sparkling sky scrapers that reached the clouds, fancy people, pretty clothing. In her imagination, there were not people who used drugs on the side walls, people who sat outside of buildings and drank themselves stupid, there were not reasons for the citizens to want to forget their lives. In big, wealthy cities, things were all sparkle and glitter, everyone was fancy and happy. She’d never been to any place like that before.
A brow raised as Greg suddenly seemed 'bashful'. So he was definitely the type to bully those smaller than him, but cower when called out. He watched after the guy as well, taking in every detail for later. "No problem," he said, his own features much softer, the untrusting scrutiny he had aimed at Greg fading away. "I definitely believe that," he gave a soft laugh. He glanced after Greg again as she did, his eyes only following her gaze, before turning them back to lock on magnetic green when she spoke again. "That would be correct," he smiled, "And you were Rowen, yes?" His smile faded a little at the question following and he nodded, "Yeah, unfortunately you have guys like him wherever you go. New place, same old song and dance. My uh.. My old town was full of 'em. Going out after dark was literally suicide, unless you knew how to take care of yourself. Gang wars all over the news.. Fun stuff." He rubbed the side of his neck a bit, "I suppose it was rather rude of me to judge this town at all honestly, when my old one wasn't exactly heaven."
Rowen felt a little silly at the faint flicker of disappointment in response to the truth that there was really no where that different, there was truly no real paradise to run away to.
“Yessir, I’m Rowen.” The woman confirmed with a half-smile on her large lips.
She then shrugged her bare shoulders, shifting her weight to her right hip. “You can’t blame yourself for judging. It’s a natural human action. We judge everything, whether we’re meaning to or not.” Rowen said, reaching up to brush some loose hairs out of her dewy face. “Probably has something to do with survival, or some shit.”
Rowen couldn’t help but begin to wonder why this man had moved here? It must’ve not been his choice, which sparked even more questions in her head. Job? Running away from someone or thing? Know real good about that one. Moved to follow a spouse? She hadn’t seen any chicks or children or such clinging to his side in the two times she’d seen him. He sure didn’t smell or look like a family man.
“So what brought ya to our little town in the first place? Were you just trying to find some place that would top your old town in crappiness?” Rowen teased.
“Yessir, I’m Rowen.” The woman confirmed with a half-smile on her large lips.
She then shrugged her bare shoulders, shifting her weight to her right hip. “You can’t blame yourself for judging. It’s a natural human action. We judge everything, whether we’re meaning to or not.” Rowen said, reaching up to brush some loose hairs out of her dewy face. “Probably has something to do with survival, or some shit.”
Rowen couldn’t help but begin to wonder why this man had moved here? It must’ve not been his choice, which sparked even more questions in her head. Job? Running away from someone or thing? Know real good about that one. Moved to follow a spouse? She hadn’t seen any chicks or children or such clinging to his side in the two times she’d seen him. He sure didn’t smell or look like a family man.
“So what brought ya to our little town in the first place? Were you just trying to find some place that would top your old town in crappiness?” Rowen teased.
"That's the truth," he agreed in regards to her comment about judging being a natural human reaction. Was it? He wasn't exactly entirely human. Apparently he was doing better than he thought at laying low. A shrug of his own was given at the survival comment, "I could see it. I mean, new area equals new dangers. A person is probably actually better off judging the hell out of their surroundings. Perhaps it may prevent getting stabbed or something because they let their guard down."
Her question, the one about what brings him here? One wrong answer could blow his cover. Careful, his mind screamed. "Well isn't it obvious?" he gave a goofy grin, "I came here solely for the sake of swooping in and saving Mac and Cheese from grubby little hobos." Those pearly teeth caught his bottom lip roughly, as that silly statement had really only been meant to buy him some time to conjure up something believable. "No, but really," he chuckled, "A friend of mine apparently set up an agreement with Tony so that said friend is paying for my apartment and I don't have to worry about rent myself. Free room, I couldn't pass it up. That friend owed me a favor, and I guess this was just his way of repaying me." Damn, he could have been an actor in the way he sold that story. It was mostly true, apart from the favor thing.
"What about yourself?" he mused curiously, "What brought you to 'paradise'?" Time to turn the tables, take the attention off of himself for awhile.. So he hoped. Rowen seemed rather intelligent though, so perhaps she would pick up on that. Well, unless she bought his story he'd sold; then it would just seem like they were merely trading a bit of info rather than him dodging attention. Thoughts like this were what ate at him in every interaction he made. Was he believable? Were his facial expressions on par? What if they dug deeper? What if they really studied every single move, every note laced within his voice? Then what?
He glanced over his shoulder as two older women came down the aisle chattering; making sure he wasn't blocking them before he turned his attention back to Rowen. He felt a little silly, but he kept watch on the women within his peripheral vision. You can't trust anyone, not when you're undercover.
Her question, the one about what brings him here? One wrong answer could blow his cover. Careful, his mind screamed. "Well isn't it obvious?" he gave a goofy grin, "I came here solely for the sake of swooping in and saving Mac and Cheese from grubby little hobos." Those pearly teeth caught his bottom lip roughly, as that silly statement had really only been meant to buy him some time to conjure up something believable. "No, but really," he chuckled, "A friend of mine apparently set up an agreement with Tony so that said friend is paying for my apartment and I don't have to worry about rent myself. Free room, I couldn't pass it up. That friend owed me a favor, and I guess this was just his way of repaying me." Damn, he could have been an actor in the way he sold that story. It was mostly true, apart from the favor thing.
"What about yourself?" he mused curiously, "What brought you to 'paradise'?" Time to turn the tables, take the attention off of himself for awhile.. So he hoped. Rowen seemed rather intelligent though, so perhaps she would pick up on that. Well, unless she bought his story he'd sold; then it would just seem like they were merely trading a bit of info rather than him dodging attention. Thoughts like this were what ate at him in every interaction he made. Was he believable? Were his facial expressions on par? What if they dug deeper? What if they really studied every single move, every note laced within his voice? Then what?
He glanced over his shoulder as two older women came down the aisle chattering; making sure he wasn't blocking them before he turned his attention back to Rowen. He felt a little silly, but he kept watch on the women within his peripheral vision. You can't trust anyone, not when you're undercover.
Rowen knew all too well about it being crucial to survival to not let you guard down. Too many awful things had happened because Rowen had relaxed, had trusted, had let her guard down.
Rowen listened to his explanation quietly, nodding slowly and fixating her feline like gaze on his chocolate brown eyes. His friend must’ve either omitted details about this place, or flat out lied. Something about this guy made it hard for her to imagine he was so hard up for money he had to move to a shitty part of a crappy town just for free rent. You know you would,She told herself. But this guy was very much not her. Maybe he was running from something. This is a good hiding place... She could relate to that one real well.
Rowen was rather professionally skilled at reading body language and facial expression. Had to be, growing up where she did. She’d had to be able to tell if she were going to be beat senseless that night, or if her parents were just going to pass out cold, by the way they were sitting on the couch. But right now, she was telling herself this guy had no real reason to lie to her, right?
“Well shit, yeah, can’t pass up a free place to crash.” No need to ripple the water, no need to nose into a stranger’s life. God, but Rowen was so nosy. She was almost disappointed when he turned the tables, taking away more opportunities for her to nose into his business.
“Cheap rent and places that are always hiring.” She answered truthfully, not even twitching her gaze in that direction as the two women walked passed. Also a fresh start, no ‘Moore family’ rumors or labels, not so many ghosts from the past haunting around, no history.
Rowen listened to his explanation quietly, nodding slowly and fixating her feline like gaze on his chocolate brown eyes. His friend must’ve either omitted details about this place, or flat out lied. Something about this guy made it hard for her to imagine he was so hard up for money he had to move to a shitty part of a crappy town just for free rent. You know you would,She told herself. But this guy was very much not her. Maybe he was running from something. This is a good hiding place... She could relate to that one real well.
Rowen was rather professionally skilled at reading body language and facial expression. Had to be, growing up where she did. She’d had to be able to tell if she were going to be beat senseless that night, or if her parents were just going to pass out cold, by the way they were sitting on the couch. But right now, she was telling herself this guy had no real reason to lie to her, right?
“Well shit, yeah, can’t pass up a free place to crash.” No need to ripple the water, no need to nose into a stranger’s life. God, but Rowen was so nosy. She was almost disappointed when he turned the tables, taking away more opportunities for her to nose into his business.
“Cheap rent and places that are always hiring.” She answered truthfully, not even twitching her gaze in that direction as the two women walked passed. Also a fresh start, no ‘Moore family’ rumors or labels, not so many ghosts from the past haunting around, no history.
Though he didn't quite look it, he had his own reasons for never letting that guard down. He knew that the second he did, all hell could break loose. As a supernatural creature, that paranoia was amplified by the knowledge of other monsters existing. They hid as well, just as he did, blending in.
His friend had omitted everything, but even if he'd been told the truth? An assignment was a job, a direct order, he couldn't decline if he wanted.
Maybe he was hiding too.. Maybe that's why that even after he saw what he was dealing with.. he didn't put up a fight in regards to staying. No one knew him here, monsters included. Ironically, he had plenty of reasons to lie, but as long as she thought otherwise then he was good. Another warm smile was flashed when she let it drop, answering the mirrored question.
"Makes sense," he nodded, taking note of the fact that she didn't even look at the ladies in the aisle. Was he too paranoid? No, either of them could be something more; whether it be drug mule or monster. Or.. they could just be little old ladies getting groceries, his mind rolled it's hypothetical eyes.
"I uh.. I suppose I'll let you go," he smiled softly, nodding to her basket, "I'd hate to hold you up when you got food to buy. Have a nice night Rowen." If she made no further attempt at conversation, the man would carefully weave his buggy past the old women with a polite "Excuse me ladies," before vanishing into the store again.
His friend had omitted everything, but even if he'd been told the truth? An assignment was a job, a direct order, he couldn't decline if he wanted.
Maybe he was hiding too.. Maybe that's why that even after he saw what he was dealing with.. he didn't put up a fight in regards to staying. No one knew him here, monsters included. Ironically, he had plenty of reasons to lie, but as long as she thought otherwise then he was good. Another warm smile was flashed when she let it drop, answering the mirrored question.
"Makes sense," he nodded, taking note of the fact that she didn't even look at the ladies in the aisle. Was he too paranoid? No, either of them could be something more; whether it be drug mule or monster. Or.. they could just be little old ladies getting groceries, his mind rolled it's hypothetical eyes.
"I uh.. I suppose I'll let you go," he smiled softly, nodding to her basket, "I'd hate to hold you up when you got food to buy. Have a nice night Rowen." If she made no further attempt at conversation, the man would carefully weave his buggy past the old women with a polite "Excuse me ladies," before vanishing into the store again.
“Oh, you ain’t holding up nothing, sugar. This food isn’t goin’ anywhere.” Rowen purred, glancing briefly down at her basket. She looked back up and shifted her weight to her left hip. Unlike her, he seemed like a man with places to be, so she didn’t hook him into further interaction, thought she had plenty ideas of what she’d like to do.
“Maybe I can give you a tour around the town, if you ever need fifteen-twenty minutes of your time eaten up.” Rowen offered with a quick wink as he turned to hurry off. “Cya around.” She called off after him.
“Maybe I can give you a tour around the town, if you ever need fifteen-twenty minutes of your time eaten up.” Rowen offered with a quick wink as he turned to hurry off. “Cya around.” She called off after him.
A soft laugh had left him at her first statement, "Good to know." He was glad he wasn't being a bother. His presence wasn't always welcome, especially in neighborhoods like this; even more so when not undercover..
He paused briefly at her offer, catching that quick wink. "Sounds good," he gave a bright grin, "Lord knows I need it, lest I end up lost. You know where I live, feel free to give my door a knock if you get bored enough to give me that tour. Haha." It was at that point he took his leave, before he got distracted again, calling softly, "Cya!" in return over his shoulder.
He paused briefly at her offer, catching that quick wink. "Sounds good," he gave a bright grin, "Lord knows I need it, lest I end up lost. You know where I live, feel free to give my door a knock if you get bored enough to give me that tour. Haha." It was at that point he took his leave, before he got distracted again, calling softly, "Cya!" in return over his shoulder.