It had been perhaps three days since Rowen had been last seen outside her apartment. She got like this sometimes, where she’d just hole up for days at a time and indulge. This binder was thrown into action by the anniversary of her brothers death, this time of year was often Rowen’s roughest. She hated it, and preferred to not be conscious for it.
The dusty sunlight filtered through her closed blinds, illuminating her untidy apartment as the only light. In the streams of faint sunlight, the air inside seemed hazy and smoky. Empty beer cans stood on the coffee table, and filled the kitchen sink. There were three ashtrays sitting about the living room, all full of ash and butts. A small, wooden box was open on the coffee table as well, holding unpleasant demons inside its short depth.
Rowen cracked open one of her large, almond shaped eyes. It was blood shot and deep purple bags hung under both of them. She groaned loudly, rolling over on the floor of her bedroom, amongst piles of dirty clothes. She hadn’t made it to her bed last night? Whatever.
With a heave, she pushed herself up from the floor stiffly, feeling groggy and overall... fucked up. She grumbled softly, raking her fingers through her messy, blonde hair and walking like a zombie into the living room. Whats today? She wondered, but didn’t really care all too much. She avoided the reflected surfaces as she made her way to the couch and coffee table. She snatched up her pack of cigarettes and gave it a shake. Only one left. Her chest tightened, her nerves already growing tenser with the thought of no smokes. Fuck, fuck.She thought, bitterly. Fuck.
She turned her glossy, red eyes to the front door of her place. She shuddered. The idea of having to leave her little den into the outside world made her actually nauseous. Put on your big girl panties.She bullied herself, as she stuck her last cigarette between her pillowy, chapped lips. She lit it up, then proceeded to shrug a thin, black, zip up hoodie on over her grey tank top, and shuffled her feet into her orange flip flops.
“Oh fuck,” She groaned lowly as she exited her room, being washed in the bright, unrelenting, Florida sunlight. She shield her eyes from the sun, while digging her hand into the hoodie pocket and pulling out a pair of black Aviator glasses. After getting her eye protection on over her eyes, hiding away her redness and eye bags, she set her sight on her target- the convinient store across the lot.
The dusty sunlight filtered through her closed blinds, illuminating her untidy apartment as the only light. In the streams of faint sunlight, the air inside seemed hazy and smoky. Empty beer cans stood on the coffee table, and filled the kitchen sink. There were three ashtrays sitting about the living room, all full of ash and butts. A small, wooden box was open on the coffee table as well, holding unpleasant demons inside its short depth.
Rowen cracked open one of her large, almond shaped eyes. It was blood shot and deep purple bags hung under both of them. She groaned loudly, rolling over on the floor of her bedroom, amongst piles of dirty clothes. She hadn’t made it to her bed last night? Whatever.
With a heave, she pushed herself up from the floor stiffly, feeling groggy and overall... fucked up. She grumbled softly, raking her fingers through her messy, blonde hair and walking like a zombie into the living room. Whats today? She wondered, but didn’t really care all too much. She avoided the reflected surfaces as she made her way to the couch and coffee table. She snatched up her pack of cigarettes and gave it a shake. Only one left. Her chest tightened, her nerves already growing tenser with the thought of no smokes. Fuck, fuck.She thought, bitterly. Fuck.
She turned her glossy, red eyes to the front door of her place. She shuddered. The idea of having to leave her little den into the outside world made her actually nauseous. Put on your big girl panties.She bullied herself, as she stuck her last cigarette between her pillowy, chapped lips. She lit it up, then proceeded to shrug a thin, black, zip up hoodie on over her grey tank top, and shuffled her feet into her orange flip flops.
“Oh fuck,” She groaned lowly as she exited her room, being washed in the bright, unrelenting, Florida sunlight. She shield her eyes from the sun, while digging her hand into the hoodie pocket and pulling out a pair of black Aviator glasses. After getting her eye protection on over her eyes, hiding away her redness and eye bags, she set her sight on her target- the convinient store across the lot.
Quintus was annoyed, very annoyed. 4 days without a case to solve, and no hits needed either. Maybe he'd been to successful...maybe it was just a slow week. Regardless all he could think of was how to keep busy, this little neighbourhood was good for hiding, but seriously lacked on the entertainment side. Sighing he walked up to his closet and taking out his trust rifle, he'd dismantled and cleaned it last week but he supposed it wouldn't be bad to be thorough. Slowly taking it apart piece by piece he drifted off into a day dream, one where colour was vibrant, nice cool breeze and all of his friends, those who'd made it and those who hadn't standing in front of him, smiling. As he started to walk forward however the sky began to darken, thunder sounding terribly like judgment above him, a red light and then everyone he ever cared about burned. With a jump, Quintus awoke from the dream... It was morning... he'd fallen asleep. Beside him the rifle sat motionlessly untouched but ready for him to use. A trusty thing, he though then sighed and gave it a pat. With a loud yawn he stood and put on his coat, maybe it was time to take a walk.
“Hello down there! Hey, Rowen!”
Rowen grimaced as soon as the shrill, nasally, southern accent hit her ears. Debra was shuffling out of her apartment in fuzzy, pink slippers, her wispy, silvery blonde hair rolled up in curlers, showing off her plasticly enhanced face in all its Botoxed glory. She stood at the railing of the second floor, looking over into the lot at Rowen.
“Hun! I haven’t seen ya in days! Where ya been?” Debra hollered, flashing a giant smile that looked uncomfortably tight on her face. Her hot pink robe hung open, revealing a skimpy, lacy nightgown not quite fitting for a woman her age.
Rowen raised a hand to shade her face again, even though she was wearing sunglasses, as she looked up to face the older woman. Her cigarette smoke drifted lazily up her sculpted features and into the heavy, humid air. Though it was quite sunny now, ominous clouds were rolling in the distance and the air was charged with electricity. There was a soft breeze, blowing dried leaves and small debris around the fairly empty parking lot.
Seeing how close I can get to death without committing to it. “Took some personal days.” Rowen answered. “What? Ya miss me?” A sly smirk cracked on her chapped lips around the cigarette.
“Sure, suga, sure.” Debra purred. “Ya been sick?” The woman nosed. She had an obnoxious habit of wanting to know every detail of every thing.
Rowen turned her gaze from Debra and down to the pale blue PJ shorts she was wearing. “Yeah, something like that.” Will be sick if I have to keep looking down that valley of a cleavage. “Well, I got some shit to do, so I’ll cya around.” Rowen curtly bid, knowing damn well that Debra would be gossiping about her to whoever would listen. She turned on her flip flopped heels and began heading towards the Aunt Sally’s convenient store again.
Is there a bleach strong enough to scrub the image of those sad, saggy fun bags out of my consciousness? Rowen wondered. Maybe if I drink it. A teenage girl Rowen had been sharing a shelter bunk with a few years back had done just that, and it hadn’t been too pretty. What an unpleasant way to go.
Her flip flops made distinct slapping sounds on the dirty cement of the parking lot as she walked. All seemed relatively still in the complex lot, until the movement of Quintus emerging from his apartment caught her eye from under her glasses. Wonder what a Quintus gets up to with his time. She didn’t peg him as the partying type, but there was little else to do around this town in the means of entertainment, unless you liked to hangout at the sad, old bowling alley or jog in the park or... yeah, that’s about it.
Rowen grimaced as soon as the shrill, nasally, southern accent hit her ears. Debra was shuffling out of her apartment in fuzzy, pink slippers, her wispy, silvery blonde hair rolled up in curlers, showing off her plasticly enhanced face in all its Botoxed glory. She stood at the railing of the second floor, looking over into the lot at Rowen.
“Hun! I haven’t seen ya in days! Where ya been?” Debra hollered, flashing a giant smile that looked uncomfortably tight on her face. Her hot pink robe hung open, revealing a skimpy, lacy nightgown not quite fitting for a woman her age.
Rowen raised a hand to shade her face again, even though she was wearing sunglasses, as she looked up to face the older woman. Her cigarette smoke drifted lazily up her sculpted features and into the heavy, humid air. Though it was quite sunny now, ominous clouds were rolling in the distance and the air was charged with electricity. There was a soft breeze, blowing dried leaves and small debris around the fairly empty parking lot.
Seeing how close I can get to death without committing to it. “Took some personal days.” Rowen answered. “What? Ya miss me?” A sly smirk cracked on her chapped lips around the cigarette.
“Sure, suga, sure.” Debra purred. “Ya been sick?” The woman nosed. She had an obnoxious habit of wanting to know every detail of every thing.
Rowen turned her gaze from Debra and down to the pale blue PJ shorts she was wearing. “Yeah, something like that.” Will be sick if I have to keep looking down that valley of a cleavage. “Well, I got some shit to do, so I’ll cya around.” Rowen curtly bid, knowing damn well that Debra would be gossiping about her to whoever would listen. She turned on her flip flopped heels and began heading towards the Aunt Sally’s convenient store again.
Is there a bleach strong enough to scrub the image of those sad, saggy fun bags out of my consciousness? Rowen wondered. Maybe if I drink it. A teenage girl Rowen had been sharing a shelter bunk with a few years back had done just that, and it hadn’t been too pretty. What an unpleasant way to go.
Her flip flops made distinct slapping sounds on the dirty cement of the parking lot as she walked. All seemed relatively still in the complex lot, until the movement of Quintus emerging from his apartment caught her eye from under her glasses. Wonder what a Quintus gets up to with his time. She didn’t peg him as the partying type, but there was little else to do around this town in the means of entertainment, unless you liked to hangout at the sad, old bowling alley or jog in the park or... yeah, that’s about it.
If any happened to pay any mind to the fancy black vehicle a certain chocolate eyed male usually drove around in, they'd see it was caked in dirt/dust up to the door handles and parked incredibly crooked in the lot, possibly even occupying two spaces. The parking was obviously rushed and haphazard, the man possibly not even in the right state of mind when he left the once beautiful car sitting there like that.
Said detective was groaning loudly as he pushed himself up from the floor. Had he fallen asleep in the floor as well? Yes, he had, but only because he'd passed out from a rather deep wound he'd taken to his left side hours prior. He'd been investigating someone, followed a bit too close and ended up smack dab in the middle of an ambush. The news would likely have three missing persons show up later, as he ended up taking them out and dumping the bodies someplace no one could ever find them. He wasn't proud of it, but he also didn't have a mortal conscious so that guilt was fleeting. Kill or be killed.. Right?
He heard voices outside and thought for sure he heard Rowen's voice along with whomever else that was. Had he met Debra yet? Probably not.. officially. Rowen's voice was like soft humming in comparison to the screeching that the other woman made. Nails on a chalkboard... Was he being dramatic in that comparison? Probably, but he wasn't in the best of moods. Drake was like a wolf licking its wounds..
He threw on a fresh pair of clothes after wrapping the deep wound that used to be much worse. His regeneration was working slowly but surely. A stab that deep likely would have killed a mortal, perhaps even took out a lung.. Another reason he'd killed those thugs. They saw too much.. He walked outside with the slightest of limps, due to being roughed up so badly and bit his lip when he caught sight of the blonde he'd started becoming used to seeing around.
"Hey Rowen," he called out warmly. His voice sounded.. rough. He cleared his throat, rubbing the side of his neck as he closed his apartment door behind him and headed towards his car that looked downright pitiful. He planned on going to wash it and then maybe go to the diner for food. Drake glanced at the girl again, not really favoring the thought of eating/being alone. Ask her to join you, his brain offered. The worst she could do is just decline. Not like it'd kill him.
"I'm headed to the diner, wanna come?" he called out to her, adding playfully, "Promise I'll buy you whatever ya wanna eat. I uh.. I just don't wanna go by myself." Chocolate orbs had also flickered to Quintus. He could ask him along too, and likely would, depending on Rowen's response.
Said detective was groaning loudly as he pushed himself up from the floor. Had he fallen asleep in the floor as well? Yes, he had, but only because he'd passed out from a rather deep wound he'd taken to his left side hours prior. He'd been investigating someone, followed a bit too close and ended up smack dab in the middle of an ambush. The news would likely have three missing persons show up later, as he ended up taking them out and dumping the bodies someplace no one could ever find them. He wasn't proud of it, but he also didn't have a mortal conscious so that guilt was fleeting. Kill or be killed.. Right?
He heard voices outside and thought for sure he heard Rowen's voice along with whomever else that was. Had he met Debra yet? Probably not.. officially. Rowen's voice was like soft humming in comparison to the screeching that the other woman made. Nails on a chalkboard... Was he being dramatic in that comparison? Probably, but he wasn't in the best of moods. Drake was like a wolf licking its wounds..
He threw on a fresh pair of clothes after wrapping the deep wound that used to be much worse. His regeneration was working slowly but surely. A stab that deep likely would have killed a mortal, perhaps even took out a lung.. Another reason he'd killed those thugs. They saw too much.. He walked outside with the slightest of limps, due to being roughed up so badly and bit his lip when he caught sight of the blonde he'd started becoming used to seeing around.
"Hey Rowen," he called out warmly. His voice sounded.. rough. He cleared his throat, rubbing the side of his neck as he closed his apartment door behind him and headed towards his car that looked downright pitiful. He planned on going to wash it and then maybe go to the diner for food. Drake glanced at the girl again, not really favoring the thought of eating/being alone. Ask her to join you, his brain offered. The worst she could do is just decline. Not like it'd kill him.
"I'm headed to the diner, wanna come?" he called out to her, adding playfully, "Promise I'll buy you whatever ya wanna eat. I uh.. I just don't wanna go by myself." Chocolate orbs had also flickered to Quintus. He could ask him along too, and likely would, depending on Rowen's response.
As rowen made her trek across the parking lot, she’d eventually come up upon the interestingly disheveled vehicle. She paused beside it, examining the caked dirt.
What did you get up to mr...?
Partying out the road? Rowen couldn’t imagine Mr dreamy eyes to be at one of those parties. Or rallying a vehicle like this one out in the dunes and mud. Well whatever, she wasn’t part of Mystery Inc, she wasn’t getting paid to unravel anything.
Hmming a little, she removed the cigarette from her full lips after taking a final drag, then flicked it into a small mud puddle. She froze up a little when her name was announced in a rough sounding voice, as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. Her catty, magnetic gaze immedialty flicked up to where the mysterious neighbor stood. Damn baby. Definitely wasn’t just partying or rallying the rig.
She smirked a little as she examined his face. “Hello there Handsome,” she greeted back. “Have a rough night?” Probably not the best idea to poke and tease, as she had no idea what had gone down and how he felt about it, but when you are Rowen in these situations, you don’t really care that much.
She raised one of her thin, arched eyebrows at the food proposal, amusement sitting on her pretty face. Well Ruin, ya can’t look too trashed if you’re gettin’ food offers from good lookin’ neighbors. The smaller voice in her head piped in that it would also be an ideal time to interrogate him about his face and car.
Sliding the large Aviator glasses down her nose a little, she looked up at him from over the lenses. “Why, that sounds mighty fine. I could use a bite of free food.” She grinned, her sort of chapped lips spreading over her surprisingly white and straight teeth.
“Mind if I pick up some smokes first? I was just headin’ over to Aunt Sally’s.” She jerked Her thumb in the direction of the convenient store across the parking lot.
What did you get up to mr...?
Partying out the road? Rowen couldn’t imagine Mr dreamy eyes to be at one of those parties. Or rallying a vehicle like this one out in the dunes and mud. Well whatever, she wasn’t part of Mystery Inc, she wasn’t getting paid to unravel anything.
Hmming a little, she removed the cigarette from her full lips after taking a final drag, then flicked it into a small mud puddle. She froze up a little when her name was announced in a rough sounding voice, as if she’d been caught doing something naughty. Her catty, magnetic gaze immedialty flicked up to where the mysterious neighbor stood. Damn baby. Definitely wasn’t just partying or rallying the rig.
She smirked a little as she examined his face. “Hello there Handsome,” she greeted back. “Have a rough night?” Probably not the best idea to poke and tease, as she had no idea what had gone down and how he felt about it, but when you are Rowen in these situations, you don’t really care that much.
She raised one of her thin, arched eyebrows at the food proposal, amusement sitting on her pretty face. Well Ruin, ya can’t look too trashed if you’re gettin’ food offers from good lookin’ neighbors. The smaller voice in her head piped in that it would also be an ideal time to interrogate him about his face and car.
Sliding the large Aviator glasses down her nose a little, she looked up at him from over the lenses. “Why, that sounds mighty fine. I could use a bite of free food.” She grinned, her sort of chapped lips spreading over her surprisingly white and straight teeth.
“Mind if I pick up some smokes first? I was just headin’ over to Aunt Sally’s.” She jerked Her thumb in the direction of the convenient store across the parking lot.
A tinge of color heated up those cheeks at her greeting, but it didn't linger long. It was however, paired with a smirk of amusement. He gave a soft laugh, "Rough would be an understatement.." Her teasing was taken in stride it seemed, rather than setting him off like a bomb or some such. Perhaps she would take note of that for later, the fact that things such as simple teasing rolled off his shoulders? Perhaps not. He wasn't sure if that tidbit of info would benefit her. It honestly depended on whether or not she intended to tease him again in the future.
Upon the rising brow sent his way, he expected her to shoot down the offer, preparing himself to ride solo. That wasn't the case, much to his surprise, when she agreed to go along. "I was hoping that if nothin' else, the free food would entice you," he laughed playfully. He followed the direction of her thumb with his gaze and nodded, "Go for it. I'll hang out here until ya get back.. It'll give me a few minutes to get woke up." Nose was scrunched up goofily at her before he glanced towards Quintus again if he was still around. If not, the offer had passed. If so, he'd wave him over. Whether or not he actually approached would be all on him.
God, I must look pretty bad if she automatically assumed last night was rough, he thought to himself. Why was that regeneration of his taking so damn long to fix him up? Perhaps those guys knew what they were messing with and stabbed him with some sort of poison or something? There was honestly no telling about these ghetto thugs. They were more like ninjas honestly.. Perhaps they were part of some Triad or some such? Ohhh that would be lovely. These were the types of thoughts running through his mind while Rowen did her thing.
He had unlocked his car and opened the door to the driver's side, sliding into the seat and cleaning up any bit of trash in the floor that may have been lingering. The inside of the vehicle was still nice and inviting, completely opposite of the outside in its dirty glory. Black leather, an air freshener that gave off a musky scent.. It was pretty damn obvious this vehicle had a male driver. He leaned back into the seat once everything was tidy and waited. That door was still open so that she'd hopefully know he was inside. He didn't want her to have to search for him when she returned.
Upon the rising brow sent his way, he expected her to shoot down the offer, preparing himself to ride solo. That wasn't the case, much to his surprise, when she agreed to go along. "I was hoping that if nothin' else, the free food would entice you," he laughed playfully. He followed the direction of her thumb with his gaze and nodded, "Go for it. I'll hang out here until ya get back.. It'll give me a few minutes to get woke up." Nose was scrunched up goofily at her before he glanced towards Quintus again if he was still around. If not, the offer had passed. If so, he'd wave him over. Whether or not he actually approached would be all on him.
God, I must look pretty bad if she automatically assumed last night was rough, he thought to himself. Why was that regeneration of his taking so damn long to fix him up? Perhaps those guys knew what they were messing with and stabbed him with some sort of poison or something? There was honestly no telling about these ghetto thugs. They were more like ninjas honestly.. Perhaps they were part of some Triad or some such? Ohhh that would be lovely. These were the types of thoughts running through his mind while Rowen did her thing.
He had unlocked his car and opened the door to the driver's side, sliding into the seat and cleaning up any bit of trash in the floor that may have been lingering. The inside of the vehicle was still nice and inviting, completely opposite of the outside in its dirty glory. Black leather, an air freshener that gave off a musky scent.. It was pretty damn obvious this vehicle had a male driver. He leaned back into the seat once everything was tidy and waited. That door was still open so that she'd hopefully know he was inside. He didn't want her to have to search for him when she returned.
Rowen’s almond shaped eyes idled on Drake for a minute, pressing her pillowy lips together as she seemed to be pondering something. It was promptly decided then that she definitely needed to press him for more juicy details of his more than rough night.
She also had indeed noted his casual reaction to her minor teasing. It pleased her. People that couldn’t take a joke, teasing, or very mild hazing, were not people that could stand to hang around with Rowen. One needed strong skin, and probably a stronger stomach, to put up with this broad.
His pleasant, deep voice was a relief in her hazy head, especially after listening to Debra’s. Jeez, that lady can squawk. She shook her head a little at the thought, but bloomed a pretty smile in return to the go-ahead to continue her little errand. “Be back in a jiffy. Don’t miss me too badly.” Rowen purred, before turning and stalking off the rest of the distance to Aunt Sally’s.
After the usual, short session of shooting the shit with the elderly lady that worked the register, Rowen had her pack of smokes and was off again. Her orange flip flops smacked the pavement as she made her way back towards Drake’s dirty vehicle. She didn’t see him waiting outside, but noticed the car door left open. Perhaps he’d gone inside to grab something? Rowen merely shrugged and walked up to the passenger side, figuring she’d let herself in and wait. Letting herself into places that weren’t her’s was kind of a bad habit. She tugged open the door and saw Drake sitting in the driver’s side. Smiling over at him, she pulled herself up and into the passenger seat, where she immediately leaned back and made herself at home. Sliding her feet out of the flip flop, she curled them up onto the seat with her, crossing them Indian style. She reached her finger tips up and rubbed her eyes under the Aviator glasses, hoping they didn’t look as bloodshot as when she’d awoken.
“So, what were you thinking? Rallying a rig like this.” Rowen asked, hoping to spark up some little flames of the previous night. “This baby ain’t no beater with a heater, she looks like a costly lady.”
She also had indeed noted his casual reaction to her minor teasing. It pleased her. People that couldn’t take a joke, teasing, or very mild hazing, were not people that could stand to hang around with Rowen. One needed strong skin, and probably a stronger stomach, to put up with this broad.
His pleasant, deep voice was a relief in her hazy head, especially after listening to Debra’s. Jeez, that lady can squawk. She shook her head a little at the thought, but bloomed a pretty smile in return to the go-ahead to continue her little errand. “Be back in a jiffy. Don’t miss me too badly.” Rowen purred, before turning and stalking off the rest of the distance to Aunt Sally’s.
After the usual, short session of shooting the shit with the elderly lady that worked the register, Rowen had her pack of smokes and was off again. Her orange flip flops smacked the pavement as she made her way back towards Drake’s dirty vehicle. She didn’t see him waiting outside, but noticed the car door left open. Perhaps he’d gone inside to grab something? Rowen merely shrugged and walked up to the passenger side, figuring she’d let herself in and wait. Letting herself into places that weren’t her’s was kind of a bad habit. She tugged open the door and saw Drake sitting in the driver’s side. Smiling over at him, she pulled herself up and into the passenger seat, where she immediately leaned back and made herself at home. Sliding her feet out of the flip flop, she curled them up onto the seat with her, crossing them Indian style. She reached her finger tips up and rubbed her eyes under the Aviator glasses, hoping they didn’t look as bloodshot as when she’d awoken.
“So, what were you thinking? Rallying a rig like this.” Rowen asked, hoping to spark up some little flames of the previous night. “This baby ain’t no beater with a heater, she looks like a costly lady.”
"I'll try not to," he said without missing a beat, another soft chuckle leaving his lips as she headed to get her cigs. He had never picked up the habit himself, but honestly didn't judge those who had. Everyone had vices, himself included. His own bad habits were speeding in that expensive car of his and apparently killing thugs that knew too much, to touch the tip of the iceberg at least. He also lied.. a lot, but he had a good reason for that.
His brows raised in quiet amusement when she crawled into the car and made herself at home. What was it about this particular girl that made him feel at ease? Maybe the fact that she wasn't acting strange around him? Maybe because she got cozy without having been told to? Maybe it was just the way she carried herself in general. Odd however, that any mortal made him feel calm at all. Most of them got on his nerves.. He'd smiled in return to the one she flashed him, closing his door and starting the engine after she'd gotten all set to go. Whether she still had bloodshot eyes or not, he wasn't judging appearances this morning. His own was questionable. He was trying his best not to allow any pain on his features from that wound in his side that was all nice and patched up under his t-shirt.
Another warm laugh left him at her question. "She is a costly lady," he confirmed, "My father purchased her back when she was first made, and she's been taken care of like royalty ever since. Well.. Until last night I guess. Buut, it's just dirt. She'll be alright." He had given her absolutely nothing.. yet. "If you must know how I accumulated said dirt however," he said carefully, "I got lost last night. I found myself out in the sticks more or less. Asked for directions, like an idiot, and even got roughed up a little by some thugs for bein' on their turf. I hauled ass out of there once I got myself together and kicked up some dust on the way." It was believable.. right?
Translation: I followed a group of thugs to their hideout in the middle of nowhere, got ambushed, killed them, disposed of the bodies in a backwoods area only God knows of, and then got the hell out of Dodge.. But, he'd never confess something like that, not to someone he just started getting to know, and especially not while undercover.
His brows raised in quiet amusement when she crawled into the car and made herself at home. What was it about this particular girl that made him feel at ease? Maybe the fact that she wasn't acting strange around him? Maybe because she got cozy without having been told to? Maybe it was just the way she carried herself in general. Odd however, that any mortal made him feel calm at all. Most of them got on his nerves.. He'd smiled in return to the one she flashed him, closing his door and starting the engine after she'd gotten all set to go. Whether she still had bloodshot eyes or not, he wasn't judging appearances this morning. His own was questionable. He was trying his best not to allow any pain on his features from that wound in his side that was all nice and patched up under his t-shirt.
Another warm laugh left him at her question. "She is a costly lady," he confirmed, "My father purchased her back when she was first made, and she's been taken care of like royalty ever since. Well.. Until last night I guess. Buut, it's just dirt. She'll be alright." He had given her absolutely nothing.. yet. "If you must know how I accumulated said dirt however," he said carefully, "I got lost last night. I found myself out in the sticks more or less. Asked for directions, like an idiot, and even got roughed up a little by some thugs for bein' on their turf. I hauled ass out of there once I got myself together and kicked up some dust on the way." It was believable.. right?
Translation: I followed a group of thugs to their hideout in the middle of nowhere, got ambushed, killed them, disposed of the bodies in a backwoods area only God knows of, and then got the hell out of Dodge.. But, he'd never confess something like that, not to someone he just started getting to know, and especially not while undercover.
Rowen’s head bobbed slowly as she listened to his recollection of the events leading to his dirty, dirty lady. As she listened to his explanations, she had her green eyes focused out the window as they began to pull out of the lot. She watched as they passed people hanging around on the streets, and the all too familiar buildings they passed, each complete with chipping paint. Then her gaze flicked up towards the ominous, thick clouds that were rolling in on the little, sleepy town.
Drake’s story was believable, there were indeed some trashy, rough people around here, and many were indeed ridiculously territorial. Once you start getting out in the sticks or swamp lands, you never know when you might accidentally stumbled upon someone’s meth lab, then you’re in trouble. Rowen didn’t have any real reason to not believe what her neighbor was telling her.
“Yeah, there are some crazy ass fuckers out here. Especially out in the ‘glades. Gotta keep an eye peeled for snakes and meth heads, they’re rampant out there.” Rowen purred, sounding lightly amused. “Glad to see ya got outta there without losing a pinky, or without a bullet in your forehead though.”
She tipped her head back against the passenger seat, rolling it to face towards Drake as he drove. “Want me to kill them? I mean, it should be a crime to damage such a pretty face. We need to serve some justice.”
With Rowen, it was sometimes quite a challenge to decipher if she is joking or being serious.
Drake’s story was believable, there were indeed some trashy, rough people around here, and many were indeed ridiculously territorial. Once you start getting out in the sticks or swamp lands, you never know when you might accidentally stumbled upon someone’s meth lab, then you’re in trouble. Rowen didn’t have any real reason to not believe what her neighbor was telling her.
“Yeah, there are some crazy ass fuckers out here. Especially out in the ‘glades. Gotta keep an eye peeled for snakes and meth heads, they’re rampant out there.” Rowen purred, sounding lightly amused. “Glad to see ya got outta there without losing a pinky, or without a bullet in your forehead though.”
She tipped her head back against the passenger seat, rolling it to face towards Drake as he drove. “Want me to kill them? I mean, it should be a crime to damage such a pretty face. We need to serve some justice.”
With Rowen, it was sometimes quite a challenge to decipher if she is joking or being serious.
Drake took note of those same clouds. They may have filled a normal person with dread, but he was kind of excited since rain would mean a free car wash. He wasn't the type that lugged a pocketful of change around, and getting change around here may turn into a headache depending on where he tried it. Besides.. did any of these beaten up carwashes really still work?
Rowen seemed to take his story, so all he had to do now was just remember it himself if asked more about it later on. Not too hard considering his line of work. Those chocolate orbs shifted from the road to glance over at her, meeting that magnetic gaze briefly when she offered to kill them. Too late, but that offer was pretty flattering in itself. He couldn't help but wonder if he should feel special that she'd be willing to commit murder for him or if she offered such a thing to everyone. "As tempting as that offer is," he gave her a devilish little smirk, "I think we can let them live. This time.. But if I ever need help hiding a body, I suppose I know who to run to yeah?" Pretty face.. How ironic was that? If only she knew what the 'pretty boy' was capable of. The fact that he wasn't missing a pinky or dead maybe accounted for something. "I uh.. I did take a stab to the side though," he confessed, "Hurts like hell, but I'll be alright." He only told her that so that he didn't have to try and hide that limp of his around her.
Rowen seemed to take his story, so all he had to do now was just remember it himself if asked more about it later on. Not too hard considering his line of work. Those chocolate orbs shifted from the road to glance over at her, meeting that magnetic gaze briefly when she offered to kill them. Too late, but that offer was pretty flattering in itself. He couldn't help but wonder if he should feel special that she'd be willing to commit murder for him or if she offered such a thing to everyone. "As tempting as that offer is," he gave her a devilish little smirk, "I think we can let them live. This time.. But if I ever need help hiding a body, I suppose I know who to run to yeah?" Pretty face.. How ironic was that? If only she knew what the 'pretty boy' was capable of. The fact that he wasn't missing a pinky or dead maybe accounted for something. "I uh.. I did take a stab to the side though," he confessed, "Hurts like hell, but I'll be alright." He only told her that so that he didn't have to try and hide that limp of his around her.
Rowen’s gaze had soon moved back to looking out the windshield at the road ahead of them. “Come to me with any of your dirty needs,” Rowen offered, dangerously. “I know lots of good hiding spots.” She smirked to herself, fiddling with some of her blonde hair that was loose to frame her sculpted, pale face.
A small tinge was beginning to bite her deep inside, a little nagging voice. It wanted her to indulge. After her streak of indulging the dirty habit, it wanted more and more of her attention now. But, it was as per usual routine. Few weeks of being clean, a couple days of relapse, then struggling to stay clean again the next couple weeks. That small, nagging voice begging and begging to sink a needle below her pasty flesh. She did her best to ignore it. “Mind if I smoke?” She asked, while already in the process of rolling down the window and placing a cigarette in her mouth.
She raised a thin brow, her face jerking back over to him when he admitted being stabbed. “You got stabbed?” She exclaimed loudly. “Did you have to stitch it? Or did you go see the doc’?” She interviewed around the cigarette stick in her mouth. Self-stitching wounds was not an easy task, not one she enjoyed doing, but one she’d done about four or five times now.
A small tinge was beginning to bite her deep inside, a little nagging voice. It wanted her to indulge. After her streak of indulging the dirty habit, it wanted more and more of her attention now. But, it was as per usual routine. Few weeks of being clean, a couple days of relapse, then struggling to stay clean again the next couple weeks. That small, nagging voice begging and begging to sink a needle below her pasty flesh. She did her best to ignore it. “Mind if I smoke?” She asked, while already in the process of rolling down the window and placing a cigarette in her mouth.
She raised a thin brow, her face jerking back over to him when he admitted being stabbed. “You got stabbed?” She exclaimed loudly. “Did you have to stitch it? Or did you go see the doc’?” She interviewed around the cigarette stick in her mouth. Self-stitching wounds was not an easy task, not one she enjoyed doing, but one she’d done about four or five times now.
Something about that line as she turned her gaze forward sent a thrilling chill clawing down his spine. Dangerous words, and could be taken a handful of ways. "Noted," he grinned, as his own eyes had long since turned back to the road. He was driving and not looking ahead for very long could be bad afterall.
"Go for it," he gave her permission to light up her cig. He expected the shocked response to his confession honestly. "I did," he confirmed, "No, and no. I don't like doctors. I suppose I probaly do need to stich it though.. It was rather deep. For now, it's just bandaged up rather nicely. Hopefully my guts don't fall out." He gave her a playful smile. He'd never self-stitched, usually he didn't need to. But this time... "Say.. Does home stitching fall under 'dirty needs'?" he mused, "Doc is out of the question."
He'd be easily found out as being something more than human. His blood was normal in color and texture, a little dark, but normal. However, there was a tiny sweet scent to it. One that a doctor in a sterile room would no doubt pick up. But.. in an apartment with other random scents hanging in the air? He liked those chances better. Doctors ask questions, run tests.. Rowen probably wouldn't do that. She surely didn't have the equipment. Right?
(Updated, edited to add a few things since I'm no longer rushed.)
"Go for it," he gave her permission to light up her cig. He expected the shocked response to his confession honestly. "I did," he confirmed, "No, and no. I don't like doctors. I suppose I probaly do need to stich it though.. It was rather deep. For now, it's just bandaged up rather nicely. Hopefully my guts don't fall out." He gave her a playful smile. He'd never self-stitched, usually he didn't need to. But this time... "Say.. Does home stitching fall under 'dirty needs'?" he mused, "Doc is out of the question."
He'd be easily found out as being something more than human. His blood was normal in color and texture, a little dark, but normal. However, there was a tiny sweet scent to it. One that a doctor in a sterile room would no doubt pick up. But.. in an apartment with other random scents hanging in the air? He liked those chances better. Doctors ask questions, run tests.. Rowen probably wouldn't do that. She surely didn't have the equipment. Right?
(Updated, edited to add a few things since I'm no longer rushed.)
With the given permission, Rowen went ahead and flicked her lighter to life, holding the flame to the end of the cigarette as she puffed to get it smoking. Once lit, she stuffed the lighter back into the pocket of her zip up hoodie, inhaling deeply from the cigarette. “Aye, I mean if your guts did fall out, it wouldn’t be for nothing,” She joked, smoke streaming from her cute nose as she spoke. “Organs can sell for a pretty penny on the black market. So in your death, you’d be supporting another persons life... or another persons nicotine addiction.” That being said, she brought her smoke to the cracked window and flicked it against the glass, tapping off ash to fall to the road outside.
“I would believe that DIY stitching indeed falls under the ‘dirty needs’ category.” She cast a sideways glance over at him. “You afraid of the doctors? Don’t enjoy some stranger’s cold hands touchin’ you up?” Rowen teased.
“Well, don’t worry-“, Bringing the cigarette-free hand to her mouth, she briefly licked her finger tips then wiggled them at Drake. “My hands are nice an’ warm.” She smirked slyly, before bringing her smoke back to her mouth, clenching in lightly between her teeth.
Rowen knew stitching someone else together would be a whole lot easier than trying to stitch yourself together. Shock and black outs were a bitch when attempting this process on ones self. She’d stitched a few wounds for different people before. Head wounds, bullet holes, knife gashes, arms, stomach, chest. She liked to think of herself as rather experienced in back alley doctoring.
“I would believe that DIY stitching indeed falls under the ‘dirty needs’ category.” She cast a sideways glance over at him. “You afraid of the doctors? Don’t enjoy some stranger’s cold hands touchin’ you up?” Rowen teased.
“Well, don’t worry-“, Bringing the cigarette-free hand to her mouth, she briefly licked her finger tips then wiggled them at Drake. “My hands are nice an’ warm.” She smirked slyly, before bringing her smoke back to her mouth, clenching in lightly between her teeth.
Rowen knew stitching someone else together would be a whole lot easier than trying to stitch yourself together. Shock and black outs were a bitch when attempting this process on ones self. She’d stitched a few wounds for different people before. Head wounds, bullet holes, knife gashes, arms, stomach, chest. She liked to think of herself as rather experienced in back alley doctoring.
The laugh that left him at her joke couldn't be helped. She had a point. "True," he agreed. Though, if someone else was to try and use his organs it probably wouldn't end well. They'd likely be rejected or grant the new owner some bogus side-effects. He glanced over to meet her gaze again briefly at the question of being afraid of doctors. "You could say that," he laughed, smirking a bit at her teasing, "Yeah I'm not a fan of cold hands."
His brow raised in amusement as he watched her lick her fingers and wiggle them out of the corner of his eye once his gaze had turned back to the road. "Is that right?" he bit his lip, teasing her in return as he continued, "If that's the case, those hands of yours can do whatever they want." Another brief glance was given her way with a playful grin. Careful Detective.. his mind warned. Those were also some dangerous words.
Perhaps Mr. Not So Human just found himself a reliable source to run to for low key medical attention as well; especially if she was good. He'd find out later whether or not her hands were spoken of properly or put up on a pedestal so to speak. For now though? He slowly pulled the car into the parking lot of the diner, easing into an empty spot and cutting the engine. "Onward?" he smiled warmly, waiting to see if she wanted to head in or perhaps finish up that cig first. He was down with either, the latter only meaning that they'd have a few extra moments to talk alone in that car of his.
His brow raised in amusement as he watched her lick her fingers and wiggle them out of the corner of his eye once his gaze had turned back to the road. "Is that right?" he bit his lip, teasing her in return as he continued, "If that's the case, those hands of yours can do whatever they want." Another brief glance was given her way with a playful grin. Careful Detective.. his mind warned. Those were also some dangerous words.
Perhaps Mr. Not So Human just found himself a reliable source to run to for low key medical attention as well; especially if she was good. He'd find out later whether or not her hands were spoken of properly or put up on a pedestal so to speak. For now though? He slowly pulled the car into the parking lot of the diner, easing into an empty spot and cutting the engine. "Onward?" he smiled warmly, waiting to see if she wanted to head in or perhaps finish up that cig first. He was down with either, the latter only meaning that they'd have a few extra moments to talk alone in that car of his.
Rowen nursed from her smoke leisurely, watching it spin out of the cracked window into the muggy, heavy feeling air outside. She watched out the window at the all too familiar, old buildings as they drove passed, while thinking about what she’d like to do to him with her hands. A deep, rumbling sound rolled from far in her chest, resembling the purr of a cat. She began smirking as they pulled into Suzy Q’s lot, ending her train of thoughts. She wasn’t really quite hungry, but she didn’t remember eating anything at all yesterday, so she figured it’d probably be in her best interest to force down a sandwich. Plus, free food. Rowen had a hard time turning down anything free.
After they parked, she continued to drag off the cigarette for perhaps thirty seconds in silence, before shifting in her seat and slipping her bare feet back into her flip flops. She then raised a leg up over the other knee and stubbed out the cigarette on the bottom of her flip flop, before flicking the butt out the window. Turning to face him, she displayed a grin. “Ya ready? Have you been here yet?” Probably, it was pretty much one of the only places to eat around here unless you like bar food, cafe pastries, or cook-it-yourself food from Walmart. “Suzy Q’s has the best milkshakes. Orgasmic milkshakes, I might even go as far to say.” Rowen shared, still grinning and she pulled the door handle. Then, she was already hopping out with a distinct ‘smack’ of her flip flops thwacking the ground with her landing.
There were a few people loitering around outside, smoking and chatting idly. They watched as the dirty black car pulled up, and eyed Rowen hopping out. Perhaps somewhere else, she’d be judged on the PJ like wardrobe she chose to enter public with, but this was Palm Hills. People only really cared if you were running around nekkid, or if you were a busty, young lady with her breasts hanging on display. Other than that, you could be wearing a trash bag and people wouldn’t give a single shit.
“Let’s go get some grub, then we’ll see what can be done about getting you all in one, solid piece.” Rowen called over her shoulder as she made her way towards the front door to the diner.
After they parked, she continued to drag off the cigarette for perhaps thirty seconds in silence, before shifting in her seat and slipping her bare feet back into her flip flops. She then raised a leg up over the other knee and stubbed out the cigarette on the bottom of her flip flop, before flicking the butt out the window. Turning to face him, she displayed a grin. “Ya ready? Have you been here yet?” Probably, it was pretty much one of the only places to eat around here unless you like bar food, cafe pastries, or cook-it-yourself food from Walmart. “Suzy Q’s has the best milkshakes. Orgasmic milkshakes, I might even go as far to say.” Rowen shared, still grinning and she pulled the door handle. Then, she was already hopping out with a distinct ‘smack’ of her flip flops thwacking the ground with her landing.
There were a few people loitering around outside, smoking and chatting idly. They watched as the dirty black car pulled up, and eyed Rowen hopping out. Perhaps somewhere else, she’d be judged on the PJ like wardrobe she chose to enter public with, but this was Palm Hills. People only really cared if you were running around nekkid, or if you were a busty, young lady with her breasts hanging on display. Other than that, you could be wearing a trash bag and people wouldn’t give a single shit.
“Let’s go get some grub, then we’ll see what can be done about getting you all in one, solid piece.” Rowen called over her shoulder as she made her way towards the front door to the diner.
He nodded when she asked if he was ready, and spoke up in response to the next question, "I have. It's my favorite place to eat when I'm too lazy to cook." His brows raised in regards to her words about the milkshakes. "Really? I've never tried one yet. I usually just get soda. Perhaps I'll mix it up this time," he was saying with a laugh as he climbed out of the car when she did. He didn't hop or bounce for obvious reasons regarding that side of his, but his movements were nice and fluid despite the subtle wince on features from standing again.
His gaze washed over those that eyed them upon arrival, his own trained eyes quickly sizing them up so to speak before moving forward again. No threat, not much of one at least. Either way, they didn't seem like they were trouble, just had a staring problem perhaps? "Sounds good," he smiled, following the woman inside. Those eyes washed over the area slowly, once again taking note of possible threats and such. It was a habit, and also stemmed from the mild paranoia he dealt with.
His gaze washed over those that eyed them upon arrival, his own trained eyes quickly sizing them up so to speak before moving forward again. No threat, not much of one at least. Either way, they didn't seem like they were trouble, just had a staring problem perhaps? "Sounds good," he smiled, following the woman inside. Those eyes washed over the area slowly, once again taking note of possible threats and such. It was a habit, and also stemmed from the mild paranoia he dealt with.
Rowen lead the way inside, holding the door for Drake before continuing on into the main seating area. She picked her favorite booth by one of the large, front windows and plopped down. Not bothering with a menu, she already knew what she wanted, she picked up a newspaper that was folded neatly for costumer viewing. She opened it, eyes flicking briefly up to Drake as he took his seat, then back to the paper.
“Huh, would you look at that.” She said, as if she’d read an interesting, fun fact. On the front page of the paper, three men were posted as Missing. One face was all too familiar. “I didn’t even know he was back in town.” She muttered, running her finger tips over the black and white printed face that shared similar features to her own. How does anyone know you’re missing when no one really knows where you are ever? “Looks like dear, ol’ pa finally bit the dust.” Rowen commented casually. “Took ‘im long enough.” Usually when people went missing around here, they didn’t ever appear again. Missing meant gone.
“Are you a chocolate or vanilla kind’a guy?” Rowen asked, eyes still scanning over the small, black printed words. ‘Tyler N. Moore reported missing this morning. Last seen around 11:35PM at Shirely’s bar.’
A curvaceous, red haired woman approached the table, pad and pen in hand. She wore a baby blue uniform that made her look like an over stuffed sausage, and she had a memorable mole near her top lip.
“Mornin’ ya’ll!” She greeted, her southern accent thick. “What can I start ya out with? Drinks? Or ya know what ya gettin?”
“Huh, would you look at that.” She said, as if she’d read an interesting, fun fact. On the front page of the paper, three men were posted as Missing. One face was all too familiar. “I didn’t even know he was back in town.” She muttered, running her finger tips over the black and white printed face that shared similar features to her own. How does anyone know you’re missing when no one really knows where you are ever? “Looks like dear, ol’ pa finally bit the dust.” Rowen commented casually. “Took ‘im long enough.” Usually when people went missing around here, they didn’t ever appear again. Missing meant gone.
“Are you a chocolate or vanilla kind’a guy?” Rowen asked, eyes still scanning over the small, black printed words. ‘Tyler N. Moore reported missing this morning. Last seen around 11:35PM at Shirely’s bar.’
A curvaceous, red haired woman approached the table, pad and pen in hand. She wore a baby blue uniform that made her look like an over stuffed sausage, and she had a memorable mole near her top lip.
“Mornin’ ya’ll!” She greeted, her southern accent thick. “What can I start ya out with? Drinks? Or ya know what ya gettin?”
Reyna Hayes pushed the last box into her first-floor apartment, and sighed. Moving somewhere new was never fun... especially on the run. She shook her head, not wanting to get in on that.
Her waist length, raven hair was wild and slightly curly, eyes an azure blue. Her body was slender, and had slight curves drawing her elegantly into a woman. She hoped the neighbors wouldn't be too terrible here, but if it was, she'd just work to get some extra hours at her job. After she got settled, she planned on visiting the little diner near the apartments and see if they were hiring. God knew she needed the tips, and despite what her best friend had told her, she didn't want to be a stripper.
Mary had always been unique, to say the least, so it didn't surprise her that Mary had jumped to try being "exotic," or whatever the hell they called it these days. Reyna was a bit more of the... bookish type. She had more shelves than she did friends, and right now, she was just trying to start over and get away from her old life.
Reyna made her bed, and made up the kitchen before walking out of her little apartment, and started across the parking lot with trash and a determination to get a damn job.
Her waist length, raven hair was wild and slightly curly, eyes an azure blue. Her body was slender, and had slight curves drawing her elegantly into a woman. She hoped the neighbors wouldn't be too terrible here, but if it was, she'd just work to get some extra hours at her job. After she got settled, she planned on visiting the little diner near the apartments and see if they were hiring. God knew she needed the tips, and despite what her best friend had told her, she didn't want to be a stripper.
Mary had always been unique, to say the least, so it didn't surprise her that Mary had jumped to try being "exotic," or whatever the hell they called it these days. Reyna was a bit more of the... bookish type. She had more shelves than she did friends, and right now, she was just trying to start over and get away from her old life.
Reyna made her bed, and made up the kitchen before walking out of her little apartment, and started across the parking lot with trash and a determination to get a damn job.
He headed inside as the door was held open for him, following her over to the booth of her choice and slid in across from her. His own eyes flicked to the front of that paper, raising a brow as she spoke. He watched her curiously, recognizing all three men himself, and remembering where they were now 'sleeping', but his expression remained the same as before. "Your father?" he blinked in surprise. Oops.. Then again, it didn't seem like she cared very much so he didn't ask or say anything further on the matter.
"Vanilla," he smiled, "At least when it comes to milkshakes." He glanced up as the waitress approached, giving her a friendly smile as he responded to that greeting, "Mornin'. Actually, I'll probably just have whatever my friend gets. I'm new in town and she seems to know what's to 'die for.'" He gave Rowen a playful smile, remembering her explanation of the milkshake in the car. He wasn't a picky eater at all, and the fact that she hadn't even touched the menu meant she must already have her favorites picked out. The detective was curious to see what those may be.
(Sorry if that one feels kinda rushed, heading to work.)
"Vanilla," he smiled, "At least when it comes to milkshakes." He glanced up as the waitress approached, giving her a friendly smile as he responded to that greeting, "Mornin'. Actually, I'll probably just have whatever my friend gets. I'm new in town and she seems to know what's to 'die for.'" He gave Rowen a playful smile, remembering her explanation of the milkshake in the car. He wasn't a picky eater at all, and the fact that she hadn't even touched the menu meant she must already have her favorites picked out. The detective was curious to see what those may be.
(Sorry if that one feels kinda rushed, heading to work.)