Do Not Cross [Closed] - Printable Version
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Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 07-06-2015
"You need to learn to accept yourself," she said loftily. "It's called body positivity, Grayson." Nadine was utterly unperturbed by showering with another person, used to doing so in showers much smaller. She was not at all self-conscious about running soapy hands over her person, nor did she bother making a show of it. She didn't linger on her breasts, or do anything interesting with her fingers. At worst, she came a little closer to him than was necessary to rinse off.
"I guess I probably would have noticed if your penis was half your bodyweight," she sighed, charmed despite her crudity at his gentle kisses. She turned around as he bid, though she looked at him over her shoulder. "Yes, sir, mister officer sir," she said, an insubordinate pout to her mouth before she turned her head, letting him do as he pleased.
Nadine did not take very good care of her hair. She knew very well that she didn't. She washed it too often, or not enough, or got alcohol in it, or soaked it in saltwater and chlorine, and occasionally accidentally set it on fire. She stole shampoo from people with hair nothing like hers, and just sort of accepted that sometimes it doubled in volume or length for reasons that were not clear to her. Her curls bounced higher or they flattened out or went limp, and at this point it was just a thing that happened to her, like the weather.
She hummed with pleasure as Grayson's fingers wound through her hair, fingertips drawing lovely little circles along her scalp. Her eyes shut, leaning involuntarily backward, and it was really too bad they weren't taking a bath. She could have gone all nice and limp, then. "You should have been a hairdresser," she murmured.
"I guess I probably would have noticed if your penis was half your bodyweight," she sighed, charmed despite her crudity at his gentle kisses. She turned around as he bid, though she looked at him over her shoulder. "Yes, sir, mister officer sir," she said, an insubordinate pout to her mouth before she turned her head, letting him do as he pleased.
Nadine did not take very good care of her hair. She knew very well that she didn't. She washed it too often, or not enough, or got alcohol in it, or soaked it in saltwater and chlorine, and occasionally accidentally set it on fire. She stole shampoo from people with hair nothing like hers, and just sort of accepted that sometimes it doubled in volume or length for reasons that were not clear to her. Her curls bounced higher or they flattened out or went limp, and at this point it was just a thing that happened to her, like the weather.
She hummed with pleasure as Grayson's fingers wound through her hair, fingertips drawing lovely little circles along her scalp. Her eyes shut, leaning involuntarily backward, and it was really too bad they weren't taking a bath. She could have gone all nice and limp, then. "You should have been a hairdresser," she murmured.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 07-16-2015
He scoffed a laugh. A strange, abrupt sound like he was trying to avoid laughing at all. Why did she know so much about bristle worms? Why did she behave as if she wasn't impressively intelligent. She was beautiful and mysterious, but she was also a problem. This was not the type of person that Grayson usually invited into his life. Especially since he never invited anyone. Not anymore. "Then, I am thankful that I am not actually a worm, because that sounds terrifying." The scent of gardenias was filling the shower, and he wondered why he still had all of this floral nonsense. Shampoos and conditioners, body washes and weird facial scrubs that he had never touched still lined the shower caddy and the built in shelving. Things that should have been discarded a long time ago, or at the very least shoved into the basement with everything else.
They were serving some purpose, now, if nothing else. Sort of made it look as if he had company often. That he wasn't as sad and alone as he actually was.
"That is a strange compliment," he returned, still too focused on not getting tangled. He liked her hair, even if it wasn't something he would admit out loud. The dark color, and wild curls appealed to him, somehow. Just like she did; dark and wild in ways that were new to him. He reminded himself that he shouldn't get comfortable, mostly because he'd just met her.
He stepped back slightly, just far enough that she could continue to lean and he could rinse the shampoo away without also drowning. He reminded himself, that just because she was small and sexy didn't mean that she couldn't also murder him in his sleep.
"I'm getting out of here before I get all wrinkly," he announced, suddenly, pulling hands away from her hair and her skin. He stepped out of the shower, leaving the water running in case she wasn't finished. He grabbed a towel from the rack, but only tossed it over his head, dripping all the while as he got ready to brush his teeth.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 07-17-2015
Nadine grinned wide, victorious, like laughter was something she'd successfully stolen from him. There was something uniquely wonderful about making someone laugh against their will. "You don't want a dick as big as I am?" she asked, as if this fact was surprising to her. She wondered whose shampoo he was using, when he didn't smell like flowers. A great big house with family photos on the wall; none of them had looked like a wife and there'd been no sign of a wedding. She didn't mind being a homewrecker, every now and again, but his bed was empty and his hands were uncertain.
"It is flattery of the highest order," she assured him, humming as he rinsed out her hair. Making someone else clean her hair was nice. She should have done it more often. She slid her hands over her face to clear the water out of her face, green eyes cracking open to follow his exit.
Grayson had a very cute butt, for a cop.
Circumstances long past meant she didn't have to steal a razor, so instead she just covered her hair in more conditioner for good measure, turning the water down to something he'd probably consider abominably cold. Satisfied that her pores were good and shut, she rinsed out her hair and turned off the water, wringing it out before she slipped out to nab a towel.
"If you have a spare," she said as she dried off, "leave it on the counter for me in the morning?" Her need for dental hygiene was less pressing, since she hadn't had her mouth on anyone's genitals recently. If he didn't, she'd probably just steal his. She did not tell him this. She dropped her towel to the floor, and smacked his butt with a giggle as she slipped passed him on her way to make herself comfortable in his bed.
"It is flattery of the highest order," she assured him, humming as he rinsed out her hair. Making someone else clean her hair was nice. She should have done it more often. She slid her hands over her face to clear the water out of her face, green eyes cracking open to follow his exit.
Grayson had a very cute butt, for a cop.
Circumstances long past meant she didn't have to steal a razor, so instead she just covered her hair in more conditioner for good measure, turning the water down to something he'd probably consider abominably cold. Satisfied that her pores were good and shut, she rinsed out her hair and turned off the water, wringing it out before she slipped out to nab a towel.
"If you have a spare," she said as she dried off, "leave it on the counter for me in the morning?" Her need for dental hygiene was less pressing, since she hadn't had her mouth on anyone's genitals recently. If he didn't, she'd probably just steal his. She did not tell him this. She dropped her towel to the floor, and smacked his butt with a giggle as she slipped passed him on her way to make herself comfortable in his bed.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 07-22-2015
"What? No, that sounds terrifying. What would I even do with that? I can't imagine a woman would come anywhere near that thing."Grayson's life was pretty much a wreck. For some reason, however, that hadn't stopped him from inviting a hurricane into it. He considered himself lucky that Dean didn't try as hard as other women. To pretend to care about him as a person by asking invasive questions about the overly domestic state of his household. They always wanted to know if he had a wife or a girlfriend, seeming like they wanted to take pride in being in a space another woman had once (or even currently) occupied.
Not Dean. She knew what she wanted and she did what she had to get it. He could admire her straightforwardness, since he had very little to admire other than her physical form, which was pretty fantastic too.
"Well, then thanks I guess," he replied, over his toothbrush, to a compliment he still felt was lacking. He stood in front of the mirror, dripping all over the floor mat and forgetting to care about it. He glanced to her briefly as she exited the shower, opening a drawer with his free hand to extract a toothbrush that was still wrapped up in its packaging. Grayson did not accommodate for sleepovers, Grayson was just very particular of how many times he used a toothbrush.
"Hey," he quipped with a mouthful of toothpaste, caught off guard by her hands on him. Strangely comfortable and utterly juvenile, which he filed away as accurate adjectives for the woman. He rinsed out his mouth, listening to her giggles hit a decrescendo as she flopped into his bed. He finished drying off, then he downed a handful of pills with water from the sink.
Donning a clean pair of boxers he joined her in the bed, pushing her out of his way somewhat since she seemed to have an affinity for stealing the middle and most of the blankets. The women he usually had over did not spend the night, so he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do with her. Could her touch her? Were they going to cuddle or something? Should he strike up a conversation? What was a good follow up to post-coital discussions on bristle worms? "So, where are you from?" he ventured, propping his head up by tucking one arm beneath his pillow. "I certainly wouldn't guess that it’s anywhere around here."
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 07-23-2015
Nadine responded to his attempts to make room for himself by rolling onto her side, wiggling back into him in a clear invitation for him to play the big spoon. Her hands curled beside her face on the pillow, until such a time as he wrapped his arm around her and she could lace her fingers with his. She yawned, legs stretching out against his as she made herself comfortable.
While she was tired, she was not so tired as to be in that in-between place neither asleep nor awake, did not trust Grayson enough to drowse at length. Honesty did not even occur to her.
"I'm from a country you've never heard of," she said, eyes closed. "I'm a princess. I came to Valesport to sow my wild oats before my arranged marriage." She yawned again. "And… solve the murder of my childhood friend? Wrong Eddie Murphy movie. Let's stick with princess. Later I'll wear a pretty ballgown and come down a huge set of stairs and you'll be starstruck. It'll be great."
She could have told him something more plausible, something intended to be believed. It would have been easy to make him think she was some spoiled rich girl from L.A., slumming it in Valesport and in over her head. There was something more comfortable about this. They both knew she was lying, that she didn't care if he knew.
He barely trusted her enough to fuck her, but that was all she needed. She didn't trust him at all, but she didn't need to. She trusted her own intuition, the little tells and habits that told her he wasn't likely to hurt her. Not in any of the ways that mattered. Really cute and mostly harmless: basically ideal.
"I bet you're from Maine," she accused with a yawn, mostly to irritate him. Accusing people of being from Jersey was too obvious; Maine was innocuous, and yet always, somehow, offensive.
While she was tired, she was not so tired as to be in that in-between place neither asleep nor awake, did not trust Grayson enough to drowse at length. Honesty did not even occur to her.
"I'm from a country you've never heard of," she said, eyes closed. "I'm a princess. I came to Valesport to sow my wild oats before my arranged marriage." She yawned again. "And… solve the murder of my childhood friend? Wrong Eddie Murphy movie. Let's stick with princess. Later I'll wear a pretty ballgown and come down a huge set of stairs and you'll be starstruck. It'll be great."
She could have told him something more plausible, something intended to be believed. It would have been easy to make him think she was some spoiled rich girl from L.A., slumming it in Valesport and in over her head. There was something more comfortable about this. They both knew she was lying, that she didn't care if he knew.
He barely trusted her enough to fuck her, but that was all she needed. She didn't trust him at all, but she didn't need to. She trusted her own intuition, the little tells and habits that told her he wasn't likely to hurt her. Not in any of the ways that mattered. Really cute and mostly harmless: basically ideal.
"I bet you're from Maine," she accused with a yawn, mostly to irritate him. Accusing people of being from Jersey was too obvious; Maine was innocuous, and yet always, somehow, offensive.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 07-23-2015
Though he was surprised by her closeness, he obliged nonetheless. Shifting to his side, he put one arm around her and left the other beneath the pillow. "Well, pardon me, your highness," he said, chuckling into her hair. "Had I known I was in the company of royalty I would have put the good sheets on the bed."He didn’t bother getting on her case about lying. She'd been doing it from the start, so it wasn't as if he expected any less. He would put money on the fact that she'd be gone by morning, regardless. So, he supposed it really didn't matter.
"I don't have any ball gowns, so I hope you're supplying your own."
His thumb brushed the top of her hand where it was laced with his. Mostly out of habit, than any sort of affection. "Nope," he contradicted with a yawn of his own. "I'm from the fifth moon of Jupiter. That's where alien bristle worms come from."
He wasn't lying to good her; no idiotic attempts to manipulate her into telling the truth. He was insightful enough to know something like that wouldn't never work. Mostly, it was more fun to do so, than admitting he was born and raised in the same city in which he still lived.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 07-24-2015
She snorted an almost-laugh. "Don't waste your good sheets on royalty," she murmured, nuzzling against her pillow as she got good and snuggly. As a general rule, Nadine barely acknowledged her past as even having existed. But she did still bear certain grudges, despite how good she considered herself to be at moving on. "I gotta billion ball gowns. That's how you know'm rich."
Real rich people did not have half so many ball gowns as they did in movies, but that would not stop her from asserting otherwise. More fun this way. His thumb against her skin made her smile faintly, surprised by the sweetness of it. "Does't make you Jovian if you're just from a moon?" she mumbled, clearly not expecting an answer. She liked that he'd started to play along. That was almost her favorite part, the relatively swift transition he'd made from barely tolerating her to enjoying her company.
Not as good as the sex, but the sex had been very good, so.
Nadine could fall asleep just about anywhere, and her sleep was deep when she did. No tossing and turning, no whimpering or crying out. Waking her up could be difficult even for someone making a serious effort. More likely that she'd simply roll over and resume sleeping without ever really waking up. She also, luckily for Grayson, did not snore. But she might make him jealous. Some people paid a fortune to sleep as peacefully as she did.
Real rich people did not have half so many ball gowns as they did in movies, but that would not stop her from asserting otherwise. More fun this way. His thumb against her skin made her smile faintly, surprised by the sweetness of it. "Does't make you Jovian if you're just from a moon?" she mumbled, clearly not expecting an answer. She liked that he'd started to play along. That was almost her favorite part, the relatively swift transition he'd made from barely tolerating her to enjoying her company.
Not as good as the sex, but the sex had been very good, so.
Nadine could fall asleep just about anywhere, and her sleep was deep when she did. No tossing and turning, no whimpering or crying out. Waking her up could be difficult even for someone making a serious effort. More likely that she'd simply roll over and resume sleeping without ever really waking up. She also, luckily for Grayson, did not snore. But she might make him jealous. Some people paid a fortune to sleep as peacefully as she did.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 07-24-2015
"I will keep that in mind for the next princess I have in my bed. High thread count not required." Experimentally, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Not the he expected her to protest, mostly testing to see how weird he felt about it. This was all very strange as far as one night stands were considered. Well, from what he knew of them anyway. What is still a one night stand if they spent the entire night? Further research required, not that he was at all interested in that sort of research.
"I bet you look lovely in fancy dresses," he commented softly, but not because he was drifting off to sleep. He thought that she might be, and he didn't want to keep her up with jokes, if she would rather be sleeping.
She asked him more questions about Jupiter, and he took too long to respond. Too much time trying to remember which moon would be considered the fifth. Too much time trying to remember the names of any of them. Which was a ridiculous thing to do when you were snuggling. Even if the conversation deemed it appropriate.
By the time he formulated an answer, she seemed to be asleep. As gently ad he could he turned away from her to switch off the lamp on the nightstand. He rolled back over, and adjusted for comfort. Still being gentle, but it didn't seem to be bothering her.
Grayson was very jealous. He didn't know how long he remained awake listening to the sound of her breathing. Even of he did fall asleep there was no guarantee it would be peaceful or for very long. Eventually, he drifted off, and it was uneventful, all things considered.
Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 07-24-2015
Nadine roused because he'd moved, again. He'd been doing that a lot, but she didn't remember those. This time, though, she did not simply roll over and fall back asleep. Drowsy eyes stayed open, staring at the ceiling; the barest sliver of light was there, too yellow to be the moon. Street lights, maybe, or distant lights from the city.
Grayson. Cop. Almost certainly not going to let her stay alone in his house while he went to work. Would probably drive her somewhere he thought was safe. Might even give her a little cash for lunch. Awkward. Generous. She didn't want to owe him anything. She didn't even want to be grateful.
Slowly, she slid out of bed, taking a moment as she stood to admire her sleepy companion. She picked up her sweater and her skirt on the way to the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as she could.
Just because she was sneaking out in the darkness didn't mean she wasn't going to brush her teeth. Some things took priority. If he was awake enough to be bothered by a midnight bathroom break, he was going to notice her leaving the house, anyway.
Adequately dressed, she grabbed her shoes on the way out of the bedroom. Looking for the rest of her various accessories would be a waste of time, and increased the likelihood that he was going to wake up and notice her rummaging.
The bracelets were loud as hell, besides. And he'd probably liked those socks more than she did.
Nadine kept holding onto her shoes as she lingered on the first floor. She was going to need money to call a cab. Not to mention lunch. His wallet was probably upstairs with him, but what about emergency funds?
Credit card. Definitely the kind of person with an emergency credit card. If she was a law-abiding white guy living in the suburbs, where would she keep an emergency credit card?
Back of the freezer. Middle of a bag he'd filled with water, the way everyone says will keep a person from using their credit card except in emergencies.
hot damn that's a fucking platinum card how good is your damn credit what the hell
Good card, good credit, good protection from fraud. As long as he called in and reported it stolen, he'd only be liable for about fifty. Unlikely to try and have her arrested, probably too embarrassed. He didn't seem like someone who made a lot of impulsive decisions. Didn't seem like someone who'd want to admit to the lapse. He'd just want to forget about the whole thing, put it all behind him and pretend it never happened.
A little bit unfortunate. She'd like if he could remember her fondly. Safer for her this way, though.
She slipped out the door with her shoes and the bag of ice and plastic, and waited until she was on the sidewalk to put her heels on. A little further down the road, she smashed the ice against the concrete to free the card. Much easier than waiting for it to thaw. Lighting a cigarette, she pulled a small burner phone from her back pocket, turning it on for the first time in days so that she could call a cab.
Priority one: new clothes.
Grayson. Cop. Almost certainly not going to let her stay alone in his house while he went to work. Would probably drive her somewhere he thought was safe. Might even give her a little cash for lunch. Awkward. Generous. She didn't want to owe him anything. She didn't even want to be grateful.
Slowly, she slid out of bed, taking a moment as she stood to admire her sleepy companion. She picked up her sweater and her skirt on the way to the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as she could.
Just because she was sneaking out in the darkness didn't mean she wasn't going to brush her teeth. Some things took priority. If he was awake enough to be bothered by a midnight bathroom break, he was going to notice her leaving the house, anyway.
Adequately dressed, she grabbed her shoes on the way out of the bedroom. Looking for the rest of her various accessories would be a waste of time, and increased the likelihood that he was going to wake up and notice her rummaging.
The bracelets were loud as hell, besides. And he'd probably liked those socks more than she did.
Nadine kept holding onto her shoes as she lingered on the first floor. She was going to need money to call a cab. Not to mention lunch. His wallet was probably upstairs with him, but what about emergency funds?
Credit card. Definitely the kind of person with an emergency credit card. If she was a law-abiding white guy living in the suburbs, where would she keep an emergency credit card?
Back of the freezer. Middle of a bag he'd filled with water, the way everyone says will keep a person from using their credit card except in emergencies.
hot damn that's a fucking platinum card how good is your damn credit what the hell
Good card, good credit, good protection from fraud. As long as he called in and reported it stolen, he'd only be liable for about fifty. Unlikely to try and have her arrested, probably too embarrassed. He didn't seem like someone who made a lot of impulsive decisions. Didn't seem like someone who'd want to admit to the lapse. He'd just want to forget about the whole thing, put it all behind him and pretend it never happened.
A little bit unfortunate. She'd like if he could remember her fondly. Safer for her this way, though.
She slipped out the door with her shoes and the bag of ice and plastic, and waited until she was on the sidewalk to put her heels on. A little further down the road, she smashed the ice against the concrete to free the card. Much easier than waiting for it to thaw. Lighting a cigarette, she pulled a small burner phone from her back pocket, turning it on for the first time in days so that she could call a cab.
Priority one: new clothes.
RE: Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 05-08-2016
When Grayson awoke alone in his bed, he couldn’t say he was surprised. Pushing hands through his hair, he sighed. Looking over at his clock revealed that he had woken thirty minutes before his alarm went off. Getting out of bed, he frowned at the scattering of jewelry that had been left at the foot of it. Gold and mint-colored bangles. Those fucking cat-faced stockings. He debated what he should even do with them while he went for a run. Throwing them away seemed rude, even though it was unlikely he would ever see her again. He could dump the horde in the guest room… to forget about and have one of his sisters ask prying questions about later.
In the end, he picked everything she had carelessly left behind off the floor and dropped it into a box that he promptly shoved into the back of his closet, until he could come up with a better plan. He took a shower, took his medication and brushed his teeth. He got dressed for work and made coffee while he tried to decide if he wanted to make breakfast.
He settled for picking up something greasy and disgusting on his way to work, sipping black coffee from a thermos and ignoring the drone of calls coming through his radio.
When he walked into the office balancing coffee and paperwork and a come kind of bacon and egg bagel thing, he didn’t even make it to his desk before Lieutenant Harding was cutting into his path.
“Crawford,” she said, the one word clipped and she didn’t look happy.
He took a step to the side to try and move around her, but she only followed. His brow furrowed.
“Harding.”
“What the hell was the report you submitted last night?” she asked, and he grimaced. No doubt she was referencing the one that ‘Dean’ had walked in on.
“There was an incident,” he replied as if that were an actual answer to her question. He successfully dated around her, and started unloading his armful of items.
“Was that incident the civilian you left the scene with?”
He sat down at his desk, as she turned to face him, so she could properly loom over him as she grilled him. “No,” he said, logging into his computer. “Well, actually maybe. She was…several incidents at once,” he said, still explaining absolutely nothing.
“File a new report,” Lace commanded, and he nodded, watching as she walked away to her own office. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, sipping coffee and glaring at his monitor. When his phone started to ring from where it lay on a pile of paperwork, he turned the intensity of his glare upon it. Not recognizing the string of numbers that appeared on the screen, he picked it up with a greeting that was more of a growl.
“My card has been what?” he asked, after a few moments of silent listening. “No. I didn’t but…where did you say it was being used? Yes, a hold is fine. I will take care of it. Thank you.”
Hanging up the phone, he grabbed his coffee and his bagel concoction, easily forgetting about the report he was supposed to be rewriting or the case he was supposed to be solving. Not even sure if he had a plan of action, or why he was acting in the first place.
Something about that woman had gotten to him.
RE: Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 06-07-2016
The first things Nadine bought with a stolen credit card were always gift cards. It consolidated a lot of suspicious purchases into a single large, slightly suspect purchase. All-purpose prepaid cards made life so much easier. But a few more specific kinds never went amiss. After that, department stores, the kind that sold clothes as well as appliances. Made it easy to pretend she was a man buying a fridge instead of a woman buying cute outfits. And a big ol' purse to carry everything after she'd left, of course.
It wasn't until she got to store number three for makeup that the card got declined. Goodness, but he'd caught on fast. Then again, she'd been shopping a while, hours spent browsing through racks of clothes and boxes of shoes. And cell phone charms. She sighed and paid for her purchases with a gift card.
Walking through the mall, she snapped Grayson's credit card in half and tossed it in the trash. They'd be sending him a new one, anyway.
Nadine found a lonely bathroom in one of the less-used corners of the mall, furthest from the food court and the movie theatre. Nothing but sad little stores, soon to be replaced by other sad little stores. People trying to make a career out of their love of overpriced Barbies or wooden beads. It meant at least a modicum of privacy as she changed, tossed her old clothes in the garbage as she put on new ones.
Her cute cop encounter had left her in a kitteny sort of mood, so she'd bought a sweater in pink with a cute little cat face. Pink socks and fluffy pink panties to match – even though she was the only one who knew about those. She offset it with a grey skirt and grey heels, and she thought the overall effect was... coquettish? Maybe. She pulled her hair into a loose updo held together with fake white roses, considering herself in the mirror. She'd slowly been peeling off her fake fingernails as the day wore on, and so now she replaced them with a new set in pink.
Cheap plastic fingernails were such a lovely invention.
She dug through her newly acquired makeup, bent over the bathroom counter so she'd be closer to the mirror. She sang quietly to herself as she fixed up her face, hips swaying in a way that should have had a poor impact on her precision.
"… des ronds avec ton bassin, des ronds avec ton bassin…"
It wasn't until she got to store number three for makeup that the card got declined. Goodness, but he'd caught on fast. Then again, she'd been shopping a while, hours spent browsing through racks of clothes and boxes of shoes. And cell phone charms. She sighed and paid for her purchases with a gift card.
Walking through the mall, she snapped Grayson's credit card in half and tossed it in the trash. They'd be sending him a new one, anyway.
Nadine found a lonely bathroom in one of the less-used corners of the mall, furthest from the food court and the movie theatre. Nothing but sad little stores, soon to be replaced by other sad little stores. People trying to make a career out of their love of overpriced Barbies or wooden beads. It meant at least a modicum of privacy as she changed, tossed her old clothes in the garbage as she put on new ones.
Her cute cop encounter had left her in a kitteny sort of mood, so she'd bought a sweater in pink with a cute little cat face. Pink socks and fluffy pink panties to match – even though she was the only one who knew about those. She offset it with a grey skirt and grey heels, and she thought the overall effect was... coquettish? Maybe. She pulled her hair into a loose updo held together with fake white roses, considering herself in the mirror. She'd slowly been peeling off her fake fingernails as the day wore on, and so now she replaced them with a new set in pink.
Cheap plastic fingernails were such a lovely invention.
She dug through her newly acquired makeup, bent over the bathroom counter so she'd be closer to the mirror. She sang quietly to herself as she fixed up her face, hips swaying in a way that should have had a poor impact on her precision.
"… des ronds avec ton bassin, des ronds avec ton bassin…"
RE: Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 09-19-2016
Being a detective had it’s perks. Using those perks to satisfy his own whims brought forward several ethical questions that he wasn't willing to answer. There was absolutely nothing official about this investigation. If it could even be called that. Sort of felt insulting to his profession to keep making his blindly chasing after a one night stand sound official. He had stolen his credit card. He tried to focus on that. Which, for some reason he wasn't. His credit card was the furthest thing from his mind. Dean, which was totally not her real name (because he was such a good detective), was at the forefront of it. With her stupid fake nails and her stupid fucking cat stockings and her god damned fucking lighter. Grayson sighed, pushing his hands through his hair and turning his sights on another security camera. Because he was in the security office of the only mall in a reasonable distance that had a Sephora and Papaya. Not that he knew what either of those things were.
"There she is," he muttered, recognizing her tiny frame and wild hair. "Where is that?"
"South end, sir." The guards were very polite, and very excited to be a part of an official police investigation. Because that's what this was. Just police business. Identify fraud and credit card theft. Which were very illegal and these actions were justified.
The end of the mall they had directed him to was mostly deserted. Knock off cell phone case kiosks and shady store fronts offering massages. Grayson certainly looked official in his tie, with a badge and a gun and a stalking sort of walk that implied he shouldn't be hindered from his path.
By the time he reached the stretch of hall that led to a collection of restrooms, he was at a loss. Did he wait for her to come out? Did he go in? He adjusted his glasses. Of course he went in, she was a criminal and he was a cop. She was not some damsel and he was not some peeping tom. He pushed open the door to the women's restroom and stepped inside. Rounding the corner he found her. Dancing in front of the mirror like she didn't have a care in the world. Wearing something pink and gray and probably ridiculous.
He would lose his shit if he saw another cat face.
"Would you like to explain yourself?" he asked, voice echoing in the cavernous space of the empty stalls.
RE: Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 09-19-2016
Nadine froze, half bent over the counter and a liquid lipstick wand against her lip. Ice through her veins tightening around her stomach and she might have paled when the blood left her face.
He shouldn't have been there. There was no rational reason for him to be there, not when he could get his money back without any fuss and pretend it never happened. No rational logical reason which meant he was being irrational and illogical but that wasn't supposed to happen. She'd been so absolutely certain that there was no chance of this happening, none at all.
She'd miscalculated. If she'd miscalculated about this it meant she'd misjudged his personality and she'd judged his personality to be safe and now they were alone and—
don't look at his gun look at his face this is fine everything will be fine this is fine
She couldn't help that brief flick of her eyes to his gun, but she told herself he wouldn't notice and her heart hammered against her sternum. Carefully, she put the wand back in the lipstick and screwed the vial shut, pressed her lips together to even it out before it dried. She set it down and stood straighter and didn't take her eyes off him.
There were fuck-ups and then there were fuck-ups and this was a fuck-up that left her alone in a room with a cop with a gun which was pretty far up there on the list of ways to fuck up.
"What would you like me to say?" she asked, even as she could manage, careful enunciation of every syllable.
It didn't occur to her, with everything else on her mind, that the cat's face on the peephole of her sweater might be an issue.
He shouldn't have been there. There was no rational reason for him to be there, not when he could get his money back without any fuss and pretend it never happened. No rational logical reason which meant he was being irrational and illogical but that wasn't supposed to happen. She'd been so absolutely certain that there was no chance of this happening, none at all.
She'd miscalculated. If she'd miscalculated about this it meant she'd misjudged his personality and she'd judged his personality to be safe and now they were alone and—
don't look at his gun look at his face this is fine everything will be fine this is fine
She couldn't help that brief flick of her eyes to his gun, but she told herself he wouldn't notice and her heart hammered against her sternum. Carefully, she put the wand back in the lipstick and screwed the vial shut, pressed her lips together to even it out before it dried. She set it down and stood straighter and didn't take her eyes off him.
There were fuck-ups and then there were fuck-ups and this was a fuck-up that left her alone in a room with a cop with a gun which was pretty far up there on the list of ways to fuck up.
"What would you like me to say?" she asked, even as she could manage, careful enunciation of every syllable.
It didn't occur to her, with everything else on her mind, that the cat's face on the peephole of her sweater might be an issue.
RE: Do Not Cross [Closed] - megs - 11-26-2016
His gaze didn’t leave her. It swept over her form, bent over the sink like she was posing, and when she turned to him, his eyes settled on her face. Which meant he noticed the way her eyes fell to the gun tucked beneath his arm, and meant that he was quickly made aware of the potential situation he had put her in. God fucking damnit.
Other than that small movement she was remarkably calm, and Grayson hoped it meant she hadn’t noticed what he had noticed. That he was a white cop with a gun and he had trapped a small black woman, alone in an isolated bathroom. Even without a problem, it was a problem. It wasn’t until she started talking that he noticed the peekaboo cat face of her sweater.
That she had bought with his goddamn money.
He forced himself to look away. Both due to the impoliteness of the gesture, and because of the way the kitten face was making him angrier. An emotion bubbling in the pit of his stomach that he was trying very hard to keep in check.
“What would I like you to say?” he repeated, carefully, as if there was a possibility he had misunderstood her. He passed a hand over his face, disrupting his glasses as it continued upwards to push into his hair. The crafted curls sprung easily back into place when it dropped back to his side with an audible slap against his thigh.
“And explanation would be nice?” he offered, sweeping his hand in front of him like it should have been obvious. “Like, is this just what you do? Get men to take you home so you can steal from them? Or was I just a lucky exception?”
RE: Do Not Cross [Closed] - Tindome - 03-13-2017
She resented the implication that she owed him an explanation, that she owed him anything at all, but this wasn't the time to say so. She flinched when his hand hit his thigh, shutting her eyes just a little too long and a little out of sync to be blinking, though she tried to cover for it with a little flutter of her eyelashes that might have been even worse. Would crying help, or would that only irritate him? She couldn't tell, she wasn't sure the way she'd been the night before.
"I don't make anyone do anything," she said, still the careful enunciation that came with trying to stay calm and keep her voice even. "People want to take me places, and sometimes I go with them. I thought that we had fun. I woke up without a ride, or clean clothes, or money. I liked you, so I took a credit card. You are a cop. You know how credit cards work. You would only be liable for up to fifty dollars, which is less than you would have paid for dinner and a cab if you'd been interested in getting me dinner or a cab."
That wasn't fair, of course. She hadn't asked for dinner or a cab. He'd probably have paid for it, if she'd asked. She hadn't wanted to ask. That was the whole point; things ended on her terms, a good time and just enough of a bad taste in his mouth that he wouldn't go getting too fond of her memory. People with fond memories tried to find her just often enough to be dangerous. A careful calculation as to how best to never see him again.
She'd hardly be telling him that. She didn't like making people feel guilty about fucking her, but if that was what it took, she'd deal.
Assuming he was even the sort of person who'd feel guilty about fucking her without buying her dinner.
"I wasn't stealing from you. I was stealing from your credit card company. If I had wanted to steal from you, I would have taken cash."
She'd barely moved, standing very still, as if concerned that sudden movements might startle him. Clearly the opposite was true; she was so on-edge that the slightest provocation would make her jump out of her skin. Or, at the very least, duck and cover.
"I don't make anyone do anything," she said, still the careful enunciation that came with trying to stay calm and keep her voice even. "People want to take me places, and sometimes I go with them. I thought that we had fun. I woke up without a ride, or clean clothes, or money. I liked you, so I took a credit card. You are a cop. You know how credit cards work. You would only be liable for up to fifty dollars, which is less than you would have paid for dinner and a cab if you'd been interested in getting me dinner or a cab."
That wasn't fair, of course. She hadn't asked for dinner or a cab. He'd probably have paid for it, if she'd asked. She hadn't wanted to ask. That was the whole point; things ended on her terms, a good time and just enough of a bad taste in his mouth that he wouldn't go getting too fond of her memory. People with fond memories tried to find her just often enough to be dangerous. A careful calculation as to how best to never see him again.
She'd hardly be telling him that. She didn't like making people feel guilty about fucking her, but if that was what it took, she'd deal.
Assuming he was even the sort of person who'd feel guilty about fucking her without buying her dinner.
"I wasn't stealing from you. I was stealing from your credit card company. If I had wanted to steal from you, I would have taken cash."
She'd barely moved, standing very still, as if concerned that sudden movements might startle him. Clearly the opposite was true; she was so on-edge that the slightest provocation would make her jump out of her skin. Or, at the very least, duck and cover.