Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Printable Version
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Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-05-2015
![[Image: SrUq3ze.jpg]](http://i.imgur.com/SrUq3ze.jpg)
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-05-2015
When the caller at the other end of the line finally hung up, Grayson pulled the phone away from his ear slowly. He stared at the receiver, befuddled, before placing it gingerly back into the cradle. It wasn't the first strange call he had received that week. Weird reports of missing women, that leave their clothes behind in hotel rooms with their one night stands. It was hard to take the words of hungover, serial daters seriously, but the claims were piling up and would soon be difficult to ignore. His most pressing question asked why the calls were being directed to him? It was neither supernatural nor homicidal. Missing persons was not his gig.
"Everything all right, Crawford?"
The pleasant voice of Lace Harding cut through his daze, and he looked away from the phone to see her curved form grinning down at him. This was the only time she would be able to do so, given her short stature and she seemed determined to take advantage of it. Clearing his throat, Grayson adjusted his glasses before pushing fingers through his unruly, dark hair. "It's fine," he manages, short and gravelly, not at all what the Sargent deserved as he piled loose sheets of paper together. He should have apologized, but he didn't.
"You ready to go then?" Strawberry blonde brows disappeared behind bangs of the same shade as she watched him shove the papers into a file, and stand, shifting the odds and easily towering over her.
"Yeah. Let's go."
It wasn't difficult to find a crime scene in the city. He didn't know what it was about violence that grabbed at the attention of Valesport citizens, but they always seemed to flock around it. Unnaturally drawn, by some unheard calling until a throng of them crowded around a law-enforced perimeter as close as they could. It was almost comical. Jokes were always being thrown around the bullpen on the morbid topic. The tips for finding a crime scene in Valesport were as follows:
1. Listen for sirens.
2. Look for a mob that would be more appropriate for a street parade.
The fact that it was barely even noon made matters worse. A potentially paranormal crime in the middle of the day was unheard of. The officer Grayson had spoken to however sounded pretty positive that whatever had killed the victim could not have been natural or human.
The siren of Grayson's unmarked car, sounded off as they neared the rabble, a shrill demand that they disperse, or at the very least get out of his way. Parking as close as he could, Detective Crawford and Sargent Harding, pushed their way unapologetically through the crowd, until they reached the edging of yellow tape. The pair flashed their badges to the beat cop manning the front line, and he lifted the barrier to let them through.
Grayson heard Lace's low whistle before he saw the body. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he stopped scanning the immediate area to take a look for himself. Had he been as whimsical as Harding, he might have whistled himself.
The body had been crushed. Or perhaps squeezed was the more appropriate wording. It was still a whole person, for all intents and purposes. Male, late forties wearing a full three-piece suit, but parts of him seemed compressed. It was like when a bandage is wrapped around a wound too tight, and the area around it swells up. When you pull the bandages away the skin beneath is sickly pale and shriveled.
Grayson and Lace moved towards the body as Dr. Rivers moved towards them. Since being promoted to Detective, Grayson rarely got to be first on the scene, but having Holland Rivers substitute for him wasn't all bad. The paranormal law enforcement team was small; Grayson knew everyone in the ranks, but only Holland was considered his friend.
"This man wasn't killed here," Grayson states when Holland was within earshot. Dr. Rivers shook his head, sending short coal strands to and fro.
"Nope, it was definitely dumped. There's nothing left on the scene that wasn't here before. The man even has all his belongings." Holland pulled an evidence bag from beneath his arm and lifted it to eye level. It clearly showed an expensive watch, a wallet that still looked full, and a cell phone. Grayson looked down at the body, and then back up to the other man. He did his best to reflect a meaningful expression, but Holland only shrugged in response. "Harding, walk the perimeter for me, again. See if you can find any prints, or tire tracks."
Her affirmation could be heard as she walked off; Grayson moved closer to the doctor. "Your... wife wouldn't know anything about this would she?" He kept his voice low, regulating his posture to appear casual.
Holland's drug- and meta-human trafficking wife, Lakshima, owned the local casino and was not a person who enjoyed being trifled with. She let the fact be known with displays such as these, but usually with an air of grace not present currently. Holland had the audacity to look offended, as if the accusation was really so far-fetched. "This man was constricted to death. That's... Lamia business. Nagah business. Lakshima doesn't run with wereserpents."
"Okay, fine," Grayson admitted defeat with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. Shoving his hands into his pockets he moved away from his colleague as Sargent Harding approached once more. "Do me a favor and find out who does run with wereserpents. Get the body off the street and inform me as soon as the medical examiner is done with it."
Harding and Crawford left the scene and pushed their way back out of the crowd to reach his vehicle. This was a mess already and they didn't even have enough of the details. Changing Breeds of any form were generally Bad News, and it was usually best to let them settle any disputes they would have on their own. His hands were tied however, if they were going to be leaving crushed bodies in the middle of main street. Caught up in his own thoughts and repeated running fingers through his hair, he almost didn't notice when Lace caught the sleeve of his shirt and vocalized "yo, what's that?" She lifted her hand to point at a, currently, indecipherable black lump in the shade of his patrol car. Upon closer, albeit tentative, inspection the pair discovered the it was a dog.
A poodle to be precise. All black with curling, pitch black fur - taking refuge in the shade of his cruiser. Grayson couldn't tell if it was a puppy, or perhaps just small. One of those popular inbred things that people liked to carry around in purses. It did not at all seem disturbed by their presence.
"It's a dog," he informed Lace, now stating the obvious. Her expression in return was dry, almost mocking. He chuckled, glancing around the immediate area, but no one looked as if they had lost something. Or like they were looking for something. The canine continued to sleep as he turned back to Lace. "What do I do with it?"
"Does it have a collar?"
He looked down, then back up, shaking his head.
"Why not just take it home-"
He grimaced before she could even finish.
"-and see if anyone is missing it. Or to a vet to see if it's chipped."
"Why can't you do it?"
"Are you kidding? Sabre and Ranger would eat that thing in one bite. Besides, I am working a double"
Lace was also the K9 trainer for the force, and thinking on the two giant German Shepherds in question, they would undoubtedly terrorize such a small dog. He groaned, still making a face as he bent down to retrieve the animal. It sprang to life in his hands, wriggling in surprise and turning it's body this way and that to get a look at it's assailant. "Damn. Calm the fuck down," he complains, quietly, turning the creature around to face him. It - or rather, she - stopped wiggling and hung like dead weight from where his hands were nudged under her front legs. She almost appeared as she was smiling.
"Aw, look at that. It likes you," Harding teased from the opposite side of the car.
"Oh, shove it. It rides with you."
Sargent Harding was left at the precinct and Grayson made his way home. He drove out of the city and into the suburbs; tiny, black poodle in tow. She sat calmly in the passenger seat, almost regally, with a sense of belonging that was highly misplaced as far as Grayson was concerned.
His house was dark and quiet, as it always was, when he pulled into the driveway. Killing the engine, he scooped up the poodle, abandoning his coat and briefcase.
Inside, he set the dog back down as soon as he crossed the threshold. "I don't know what to do with you," he explains as if he expected her to understand. "I'll just figure it out in the morning I guess." That was more for his benefit than hers.
He started to walk off and she followed.
She continued to follow as he made his way into the kitchen for a beer. She would stray from her diligent following to explore here and there, but she would always fall back in line.
He shut her out of the bathroom so he could shower, and she huffed outside the door. He reemerged a while later, rubbing at the coarse hard across jaw with an idle hand, wrapped in a towel. He found her curled into a ball on the floor by his bed when he went looking.
She obviously belonged to someone, someone missing her pretty terribly since she looked to be trained pretty well.
Scooping the dog up, he dropped himself into the bed and set the pup on his chest. Tucking one arm behind his head, he pet the dog lazily with the other. It was still daylight out for now, but Grayson worked a fucked up schedule and it wasn't long before he succumbed to a nap.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-05-2015
Despite years of experience, Nadine did not know a whole lot about how magic worked. Mostly because it was fucking dumb.
For instance: where the hell did the rest of her body go? Did the laws of conservation of mass just not apply, or was it some weird quantum thing, or what? And how did a tiny brain support a human mind? This was a major philosophical issue for a material monist.
Nadine's answer to these questions was: who the fuck cares, this is so dumb.
Turning into a tiny dog during daylight hours was a lot less inconvenient than it was probably intended to be. She usually preferred to sleep then, anyway, and dogs got away with sleeping in much weirder places than human women. Though clothes were kind of an issue. Especially glasses. And the ears.
Probably less of an issue if she were more willing to hang out with furries, but a girl had to have some standards. Curse or no curse.
Finding good places to sleep was an art form. A perpetual black fur coat could be excessively warm. Lucky for her it never grew any longer; asking for a haircut would be awkward. So, shady spots were ideal. Anywhere that children or teens liked to congregate was right out. Old people, too, although they were easier to get away from than kids. Dog breeders were fucking dangerous, not least because who ever heard of a green-eyed poodle? Nightclubs hurt her ears these days, but when she made it to a nice gay bar she got so many hottie snuggles. It was pretty rad.
Okay, so. Maybe a crime scene wasn't, like, ideal. But her sense of smell was amazeballs lately, and while that was hella gross 99.99% of the time, whichever cop that car belonged to smelled fuckin' great.
In sort of a sexy way? But, human brain sexy. Not dog body sexy. Dogs weren't sexy, even when they were her.
It got complicated.
Fortunately for being a goddamn dog, her plan to look conspicuously cute and her plan to get her nap on were super compatible.
Less fortunately for being a goddamn dog, she was more likely to be picked up without warning. Which was, honestly, saying a lot more than it would be for other people. When she was a toddler, it was normal to be picked up all the time. Less so the older she got. And yet, well into her twenties, strangers picked her up like this was normal behavior for adult human beings. Even so, it was an unsettling way to wake up, and she didn't think she could be blamed for some mild -- mild! -- flailing.
Oh hey hello good to see you look as good as you smell. Rawr. Or... woof? No, that still sounded bad. There weren't a lot of sexy dog noises. Struggle status: real as hell.
She didn't even have to cry at him to get him to take her home. Dude was making it too easy. Although the fact that he didn't smoke was going to suck. She didn't exactly have pockets.
She'd considered just carrying her cigarettes with her when she transformed, but that didn't seem like it would work out too well. Walking down the street, a tiny dog with a pack of cigarettes in her mouth... yeah, no, probably not. Much easier to just go home with smokers.
He hadn't looked like the type to live in a suburb, and she probably would have made fun of him for it if she had the capacity to say words. That didn't stop her from trying to say, "I have some ideas," which sounded suspiciously like, "ruff." Her nails clicked on the hardwood of his floor, because her curse had the side-effect of a fantastic manicure whatever her form. Occasional smells would distract her, because her attention span had never been great and people were a lot less touchy about nosy dogs.
Try to look in a dude's pantry as a lady: weird. Do the same thing as a tiny dog: adorbs. Such unfair double standards.
"Hey. Hey. Heeeey. Heeeeeeeey. Who takes a dog home and doesn't offer her ham? Dude. C'mon. It'll cost, like, waaay less in the long run if you just gimme some ham right now. C'mon, bruh. C'moooon."
But he ignored the "rurawrawrawr" in favor of showering. And didn't even let her watch! Rude. She made a note of where the bathroom was for later. There were certain bodily functions she refused to have when not a person, thankyouverymuch.
She discovered after repeated failures that she could not reach the top of his bed. Knocking over his furniture to get onto his other furniture and steal the good pillows would probably not get her on his good side. So she curled up and she waited, and was rewarded for her troubles with prime snuggly real estate. She made herself comfy with a yawn, and listened to his heartbeat as she settled into a nice drowse.
She'd figured out that the first sign was a sort of tingle in her toes. She got up and stretched, then took a flying leap out of bed. It wasn't intended to be a flying leap, but just about everything was at her size. Dainty steps to the bathroom, getting taller all the while, and by the time she'd reached her destination she could even close the door behind her.
Aside from the obvious things to take care of, she still sort of smelled like dog. So she stole his shampoo. And his toothbrush. Puppy breath: not as attractive on a grown-ass woman. Based on all that medication in his cabinet, he probably wasn't going to be too happy about that particular violation of his personal space.
Well, whatever. He could buy a new toothbrush.
She probably could have stolen his clothes, but instead she stole his phone. She figured out his passcode based on the fingerprints on his screen, and wandered into his kitchen with his phone in tow. Having his payment information attached to his device turned out to be a terrible plan, because in no time at all she had subscribed him to a music streaming service so she could listen to all the Hot New Hitz. She set it on the counter with the volume relatively low, and dug through his fridge until she found something she could fry.
Which was why, in the middle of the night, Grayson had a naked woman with ears and a tail in his kitchen frying bacon and listening to Kendrick Lamar.
For instance: where the hell did the rest of her body go? Did the laws of conservation of mass just not apply, or was it some weird quantum thing, or what? And how did a tiny brain support a human mind? This was a major philosophical issue for a material monist.
Nadine's answer to these questions was: who the fuck cares, this is so dumb.
Turning into a tiny dog during daylight hours was a lot less inconvenient than it was probably intended to be. She usually preferred to sleep then, anyway, and dogs got away with sleeping in much weirder places than human women. Though clothes were kind of an issue. Especially glasses. And the ears.
Probably less of an issue if she were more willing to hang out with furries, but a girl had to have some standards. Curse or no curse.
Finding good places to sleep was an art form. A perpetual black fur coat could be excessively warm. Lucky for her it never grew any longer; asking for a haircut would be awkward. So, shady spots were ideal. Anywhere that children or teens liked to congregate was right out. Old people, too, although they were easier to get away from than kids. Dog breeders were fucking dangerous, not least because who ever heard of a green-eyed poodle? Nightclubs hurt her ears these days, but when she made it to a nice gay bar she got so many hottie snuggles. It was pretty rad.
Okay, so. Maybe a crime scene wasn't, like, ideal. But her sense of smell was amazeballs lately, and while that was hella gross 99.99% of the time, whichever cop that car belonged to smelled fuckin' great.
In sort of a sexy way? But, human brain sexy. Not dog body sexy. Dogs weren't sexy, even when they were her.
It got complicated.
Fortunately for being a goddamn dog, her plan to look conspicuously cute and her plan to get her nap on were super compatible.
Less fortunately for being a goddamn dog, she was more likely to be picked up without warning. Which was, honestly, saying a lot more than it would be for other people. When she was a toddler, it was normal to be picked up all the time. Less so the older she got. And yet, well into her twenties, strangers picked her up like this was normal behavior for adult human beings. Even so, it was an unsettling way to wake up, and she didn't think she could be blamed for some mild -- mild! -- flailing.
Oh hey hello good to see you look as good as you smell. Rawr. Or... woof? No, that still sounded bad. There weren't a lot of sexy dog noises. Struggle status: real as hell.
She didn't even have to cry at him to get him to take her home. Dude was making it too easy. Although the fact that he didn't smoke was going to suck. She didn't exactly have pockets.
She'd considered just carrying her cigarettes with her when she transformed, but that didn't seem like it would work out too well. Walking down the street, a tiny dog with a pack of cigarettes in her mouth... yeah, no, probably not. Much easier to just go home with smokers.
He hadn't looked like the type to live in a suburb, and she probably would have made fun of him for it if she had the capacity to say words. That didn't stop her from trying to say, "I have some ideas," which sounded suspiciously like, "ruff." Her nails clicked on the hardwood of his floor, because her curse had the side-effect of a fantastic manicure whatever her form. Occasional smells would distract her, because her attention span had never been great and people were a lot less touchy about nosy dogs.
Try to look in a dude's pantry as a lady: weird. Do the same thing as a tiny dog: adorbs. Such unfair double standards.
"Hey. Hey. Heeeey. Heeeeeeeey. Who takes a dog home and doesn't offer her ham? Dude. C'mon. It'll cost, like, waaay less in the long run if you just gimme some ham right now. C'mon, bruh. C'moooon."
But he ignored the "rurawrawrawr" in favor of showering. And didn't even let her watch! Rude. She made a note of where the bathroom was for later. There were certain bodily functions she refused to have when not a person, thankyouverymuch.
She discovered after repeated failures that she could not reach the top of his bed. Knocking over his furniture to get onto his other furniture and steal the good pillows would probably not get her on his good side. So she curled up and she waited, and was rewarded for her troubles with prime snuggly real estate. She made herself comfy with a yawn, and listened to his heartbeat as she settled into a nice drowse.
She'd figured out that the first sign was a sort of tingle in her toes. She got up and stretched, then took a flying leap out of bed. It wasn't intended to be a flying leap, but just about everything was at her size. Dainty steps to the bathroom, getting taller all the while, and by the time she'd reached her destination she could even close the door behind her.Aside from the obvious things to take care of, she still sort of smelled like dog. So she stole his shampoo. And his toothbrush. Puppy breath: not as attractive on a grown-ass woman. Based on all that medication in his cabinet, he probably wasn't going to be too happy about that particular violation of his personal space.
Well, whatever. He could buy a new toothbrush.
She probably could have stolen his clothes, but instead she stole his phone. She figured out his passcode based on the fingerprints on his screen, and wandered into his kitchen with his phone in tow. Having his payment information attached to his device turned out to be a terrible plan, because in no time at all she had subscribed him to a music streaming service so she could listen to all the Hot New Hitz. She set it on the counter with the volume relatively low, and dug through his fridge until she found something she could fry.
Which was why, in the middle of the night, Grayson had a naked woman with ears and a tail in his kitchen frying bacon and listening to Kendrick Lamar.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-13-2015
Grayson was not what you would call a light sleeper. If he slept at all it was deep and somewhat undisturbed. Unless you counted the nightmares, but that was another matter entirely. The smell of frying bacon invaded an already hellish subconscious landscape in the form of burning flesh, and he forced himself awake just to get away from it. Steel oculars snapped open and he sat up in the pitch blackness of his room. When the pounding in his ears subsided, he realized that the stink of meat remained. There was music. It was faint, but he could hear it coming from his kitchen. So, far, if this was a robbery it was the strangest one he been involved in. He felt around in the dark for the poodle, but she was gone. A matter for another time, he supposed, throwing his legs over the bed and standing.
He traded the towel for jeans, mumbling obscenities around wondering who stops to make breakfast while committing a crime. The top dresser drawer was opened to reveal the hiding spot of his gun. After checking it was loaded, he left the room and crept down the hall as quietly as possible. He hugged the wall and took careful steps until his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness.
Coming around the corner into the full light of the kitchen he raised the firearm into his line of sight. Under other circumstances, this is where he would demand that the culprit 'freeze' or even 'put their hands up." Instead, his vocalization was an confounded "What the fuck?"
A naked woman was not what he thought he would find using his stove. He didn't have many ideas of who or what would make more sense, but this was truly baffling. He moved closer, reaching across the island to silence the music coming from… what this his fucking phone?
Black furred ears were lost among wild curls, but eventually he noticed the tail. A coal, black silken appendage that almost took attention away from the rest of her silhouette. A tail he would hate to admit looked familiar. Putting the pieces together was easy enough for a seasoned detective.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-13-2015
The thing about the tail -- and the ears, to a lesser extent -- was that Nadine did not have the control over them that she did over her other expressive features. When she smiled, when she pouted, those were things she could control. But she couldn't make her tail wag, and she couldn't stop it from doing the same, which was an irritant to a practiced liar.
She took a bite of bacon as her host tried to be stealthy coming down the hall, ears perked up to listen. She looked over her shoulder when he emerged, and certain small fluffy appendages stilled at the sight of a gun. Nonetheless, she did not stop what she was doing or make any attempt to explain herself. She finished her piece of bacon and licked her fingertips, and shut off the stove as a just-in-case so the residual heat in the pan could do the rest. Then she grinned, and it had always been too wide, but now her canines were slightly more impressive.
"You know," she said, picking up another piece of bacon with long black nails, "if you'd just given me some lunchmeat earlier, we could still be snuggling right now." A thick eyebrow arched, green eyes taking their time raking over him. "And you wouldn't need to be wearing pants," she added. Then she shrugged. "Not that you need to be wearing pants now, but if you're shy that's your business."
"Anyway," she sighed, "I know you don't speak dog, or whatever, but, like, protip: dogs are basically always asking for ham. And if they aren't, you can usually shut 'em up with ham anyway. That's, like. Dogs 101." She hummed as she finished off another slice.
"Thanks for not trying to put a collar on me, though," she said, tapping the bare skin of her throat. "You would not fucking believe how many times I've almost died because of that shit. Like, goddamn. Who collars a bitch they just met?" Then she stretched, balancing on her toes and enjoying the length of her limbs, twisting her arms together and curling her spine to look at him upside-down.
She took a bite of bacon as her host tried to be stealthy coming down the hall, ears perked up to listen. She looked over her shoulder when he emerged, and certain small fluffy appendages stilled at the sight of a gun. Nonetheless, she did not stop what she was doing or make any attempt to explain herself. She finished her piece of bacon and licked her fingertips, and shut off the stove as a just-in-case so the residual heat in the pan could do the rest. Then she grinned, and it had always been too wide, but now her canines were slightly more impressive.
"You know," she said, picking up another piece of bacon with long black nails, "if you'd just given me some lunchmeat earlier, we could still be snuggling right now." A thick eyebrow arched, green eyes taking their time raking over him. "And you wouldn't need to be wearing pants," she added. Then she shrugged. "Not that you need to be wearing pants now, but if you're shy that's your business."
"Anyway," she sighed, "I know you don't speak dog, or whatever, but, like, protip: dogs are basically always asking for ham. And if they aren't, you can usually shut 'em up with ham anyway. That's, like. Dogs 101." She hummed as she finished off another slice.
"Thanks for not trying to put a collar on me, though," she said, tapping the bare skin of her throat. "You would not fucking believe how many times I've almost died because of that shit. Like, goddamn. Who collars a bitch they just met?" Then she stretched, balancing on her toes and enjoying the length of her limbs, twisting her arms together and curling her spine to look at him upside-down.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-14-2015
Grayson lowered the weapon and rose to his full height. The safety clicked on,and he dropped his arms to the side. He was baffled. A strange, naked woman, casually eating bacon is his kitchen was not something he was equipped to deal with. He very deliberately kept his gaze above her collarbone. If he bothered to look at her at all. Lips parted to ask for a name, but she started talking snuggling and pants. And then about ham and she didn't seem keen on being interrupted. Talking seemed mostly for her own benefit. He huffed, softly and pushed his gunless hand through disheveled strands.
Okay, so he'd picked up a weredog? Werepoodle.. Was there even such a thing? Perhaps she was something else entirely...
He allowed his eyes to drop over her form once before they returned to her face. The ears and tail were very non-lycan. Maybe… no. No. This was not the time to do an extensive analysis on his home intruder. That could be saved for another when she was no longer in his house. He hoped that time would be soon.
He briefly considered that he was still dreaming. As far as those usually went this was pleasant comparatively. Just going along with it could hurt.
"Uhm. You're welcome. I guess," he decided to respond, finally, to her mention of a collar. He set the gun, carefully, on the island next to his phone, and spread both palms over the dark granite to lean on them. He watched her as she moved and stretched.
He was just… really at a loss.
"So. What? You're like a werepoodle?" The term was stuck in his head, even if he did regret saying it out loud. "A dog during the day, and human at night?"
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-14-2015
He was making a valiant effort to be gentlemanly and keep his eyes northward. It wasn't the first time she'd rendered someone speechless, though now it was probably as much the circumstances as her actual self.
He set down his gun, and her tail resumed a small amount of movement as she grinned. He was taking things very well, all told.
Maybe he thought he was still asleep.
She nibbled at her bacon, and stepped closer now that his gun was safely set aside. "You catch on quick," she said approvingly. "You've got the gist." Across from him, she set her elbows on the island and propped her chin on her hands, bent at the waist and balanced on the balls of her feet. "Grayson, right?" she asked. Her eyes flicked to his phone with an impish twist to her mouth. "I may have snooped a little," she said, pressing a finger to her lips like it was supposed to be a secret.
Then she stood, and started circling the kitchen island to get to him. "You can look at me," she added, "if you want. I'd've kept a towel on if I was shy." Her hands rested on her hips, where the only thing marring her skin was a single circular scar on her left hip-bone. "But if you're shy, you can always get me a shirt." Unlike him, she made no effort at all to keep her eyes on his face. "Since you don't seem to be using yours."
A pan full of bacon and he was still the best-smelling thing in the room. Which wasn't a surprise, since the man paid entirely too much for entirely too much stuff in his shower. Half of which she'd used while she was in there. But even underneath all that, he smelled... nice.
She could have sworn she didn't used to give that much of a fuck, as long as they were pretty.
She crossed her arms under her breasts and cocked her head to the side. "I didn't mean to wake you up," she said, and with her eyes and mouth all soft she looked very convincingly contrite as long as he didn't look behind her. "If I hadn't been hungry I would have just showered and gone right back to bed." She wrapped a curl of black hair around one finger. "I still can, if you want."
He set down his gun, and her tail resumed a small amount of movement as she grinned. He was taking things very well, all told.
Maybe he thought he was still asleep.
She nibbled at her bacon, and stepped closer now that his gun was safely set aside. "You catch on quick," she said approvingly. "You've got the gist." Across from him, she set her elbows on the island and propped her chin on her hands, bent at the waist and balanced on the balls of her feet. "Grayson, right?" she asked. Her eyes flicked to his phone with an impish twist to her mouth. "I may have snooped a little," she said, pressing a finger to her lips like it was supposed to be a secret.
Then she stood, and started circling the kitchen island to get to him. "You can look at me," she added, "if you want. I'd've kept a towel on if I was shy." Her hands rested on her hips, where the only thing marring her skin was a single circular scar on her left hip-bone. "But if you're shy, you can always get me a shirt." Unlike him, she made no effort at all to keep her eyes on his face. "Since you don't seem to be using yours."
A pan full of bacon and he was still the best-smelling thing in the room. Which wasn't a surprise, since the man paid entirely too much for entirely too much stuff in his shower. Half of which she'd used while she was in there. But even underneath all that, he smelled... nice.
She could have sworn she didn't used to give that much of a fuck, as long as they were pretty.
She crossed her arms under her breasts and cocked her head to the side. "I didn't mean to wake you up," she said, and with her eyes and mouth all soft she looked very convincingly contrite as long as he didn't look behind her. "If I hadn't been hungry I would have just showered and gone right back to bed." She wrapped a curl of black hair around one finger. "I still can, if you want."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-15-2015
Brows climbed his forehead as his eyes followed her gaze to his phone. Despite her attempt to make the notion cute, a grimace flickered across his features as he thought of the things she could have possibly snooped in. He sighed and made a point of bringing the phone closer to his side of the island to imply that her invasion was not okay. "Yeah, and you are?" Maybe he would feel better knowing the name of the naked woman-slash-poodle in his house. Not likely.
He pushed away from the counter when she circled in on him. Fingers worked his glasses further up his nose. Not looking at her had been going well until she pointed it out. Gaze drifted, since she was making a show of it by putting her hands on her hips.
She was attractive. He couldn't take that away from her. Small, and dark with bouncing curls. The ears and tail would probably be a deal breaker for some. They only intrigued Grayson, and he would wonder how soft and sensitive they were if he'd been allowing such filthy thoughts to cross his mind. "I'm getting you a shirt," his monotone reply nearly cut her off. He picked up the gun and turned away from her.
In his room, he returned the firearm to the dresser. He sorted around in his closet until he found something that wasn't a dress shirt, and that he also wasn't particularly attached to.
When he returned to the kitchen, he held a grey cardigan. It was soft, and worn, and the buttons didn't start until the middle. She would probably drown in the fabric, but it would cover her well enough for now. She didn't take it immediately; content to cross her arms and continue talking. He ignored the way the gesture tried to lure his gaze. Failed to not notice the quite way she cocked her head and the curve of her mouth.
He inhaled sharply at her mention of going back to bed. "You seem to have this strange assumption that you're staying… here?" Clarification was needed, since he certainly had not given her that impression. "Even when I thought you were a dog, I was taking you to the animal shelter in the morning. So, I'm just going to change that into offering to take you wherever you need to go."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-15-2015
Well, hell. It wasn't as if she'd snooped that badly. Just looked at his contacts. And taken a few cute selfies. And spent ten dollars. Somehow she didn't think he'd take that very well, so she kept that defense of her practices to herself.
"You can call me whatever you'd like," she said with a little shrug. "Isn't that how it usually works when you bring home a stray dog?" She'd give him Adia, if he pressed, because she'd decided to play cute. She wouldn't be able to ask for a cigarette, but it was only until morning, anyway. She'd kept it up for longer.
He just couldn't wait to get some clothes on her. Which was unfortunate, considering how much she'd enjoyed that frisson of pleasure as he looked her over. When he disappeared she sagged, shoulders drooping as she rolled her eyes, not bothering to maintain the attractive curve of her back or the point of her toes. She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out in his direction, for good measure.
Looking down at herself, she squeezed her breasts assessingly and frowned. The internet had lead her to believe that any dude who could change what a woman looked like just couldn't wait to give her tits the size of her head. Apparently she'd managed to meet the only exception to that rule. Ears and a tail and not a cup size to show for it. Completely unfair. She almost certainly wouldn't be having these problems if she were top-heavy.
With a sigh she bent over the counter again and endeavored to look appealing, though it wasn't long until he returned. When she finally took the sweater, she did so thoughtfully, formulating and discarding responses as she pulled it down to her legs. It slipped off of one shoulder, and she didn't bother fixing it as she bunched up the sleeves at her wrists. She rumpled her hair and made sure her ears were straight, ignoring him entirely as she did so. "Thank you," she said finally as she smoothed it over her stomach, being a connoisseur of other people's ugly sweaters.
When she did look up at him, it was through her lashes with a tiny downward curve to her lips. It was really too bad she couldn't make her ears pin back; she felt like that would have helped. "You're not going to let me spend the night?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself so a hand rested on her bare shoulder. "Oh." She looked down at her feet, drawing a circle on the floor with her toe. "Sorry. I just thought... okay." She drew her hands down herself to clasp them in front of her, not quite wringing them together. "If you don't want me... you can just drop me off where you found me."
"You can call me whatever you'd like," she said with a little shrug. "Isn't that how it usually works when you bring home a stray dog?" She'd give him Adia, if he pressed, because she'd decided to play cute. She wouldn't be able to ask for a cigarette, but it was only until morning, anyway. She'd kept it up for longer.
He just couldn't wait to get some clothes on her. Which was unfortunate, considering how much she'd enjoyed that frisson of pleasure as he looked her over. When he disappeared she sagged, shoulders drooping as she rolled her eyes, not bothering to maintain the attractive curve of her back or the point of her toes. She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out in his direction, for good measure.
Looking down at herself, she squeezed her breasts assessingly and frowned. The internet had lead her to believe that any dude who could change what a woman looked like just couldn't wait to give her tits the size of her head. Apparently she'd managed to meet the only exception to that rule. Ears and a tail and not a cup size to show for it. Completely unfair. She almost certainly wouldn't be having these problems if she were top-heavy.
With a sigh she bent over the counter again and endeavored to look appealing, though it wasn't long until he returned. When she finally took the sweater, she did so thoughtfully, formulating and discarding responses as she pulled it down to her legs. It slipped off of one shoulder, and she didn't bother fixing it as she bunched up the sleeves at her wrists. She rumpled her hair and made sure her ears were straight, ignoring him entirely as she did so. "Thank you," she said finally as she smoothed it over her stomach, being a connoisseur of other people's ugly sweaters.
When she did look up at him, it was through her lashes with a tiny downward curve to her lips. It was really too bad she couldn't make her ears pin back; she felt like that would have helped. "You're not going to let me spend the night?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself so a hand rested on her bare shoulder. "Oh." She looked down at her feet, drawing a circle on the floor with her toe. "Sorry. I just thought... okay." She drew her hands down herself to clasp them in front of her, not quite wringing them together. "If you don't want me... you can just drop me off where you found me."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-15-2015
"But you're not a stray dog," he counters with a wave of his hand. So, he didn't understand why she kept acting like one. He was hard-pressed to believe she had no place to be. She couldn't just roam the streets and hope for the best could she? That sounded stupid, and dangerous. "I'm sure you already have a name."Grayson's problems with her didn't even end at her appearance, let along begin there. She was the kind of small that he enjoyed. The kind that he could loom over if he stood close enough; the kind with wrists that he could contain with one hand. He cursed at himself because knew he wouldn't even be thinking like this if she wasn't intentially trying to be so damn alluring.
Wearing his sweater, it turned out, did not help matters. She was even smaller now, and softer somehow. Dark chocolate eyes looked at him with an expression she must have mastered in her other form. He breathed one long, exasperated sigh, as he shoved both hands through his haphazard mane.
"I don't even know you," he begins with a shrug that implied his reservations should have been obvious. He looked away from her, because he refused to be manipulated by such a practiced vulnerability. Arms crossed over his broad chest as she tried to guilt him into having her way.
"It has nothing to do with wanting you. Or...not wanting you." He dropped his arms, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He didn't bother trying to explain himself further. He could talk himself in circles all night, and probably get no further than he was.
Then he got to thinking about what would happen when she turned back into a dog. God. Fucking. Damnit. That seemed to change everything. He glanced at the clock on the microwave, and then back down at her. Unsurprisingly, she did not manage to maker herself look any less appealing. "Okay. Fine. You can stay one night. You're already here and it's pretty late." He paused, frowned again. This was quickly going down hill in her favor. "And then, I guess you can stay while you're a dog. But tomorrow night we will decide a new arrangement."
Grayson had no interest in acquiring a new pet. Cute poodle, mysterious woman, or otherwise.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-15-2015
"If you don't want me," she countered, "then I'm a stray." He was clearly uncomfortable with her characterization of the situation, so of course she feigned innocence to press the issue. "If you can't think of anything you'd like better," she said, "you can call me Adia." She slid her fingers along the skin of her shoulder, pulled the sweater up and back over it; she tilted her head like she was trying to hide her face, and took a deep breath, doing a very poor job of pretending she wasn't smelling her new sweater. It smelled, mostly, like his dresser. Which was disappointing.
"I don't know you, either," she pointed out. "You just picked me up and carried me home, and put me in your bed, and pointed a gun at me." Okay, that might have been a bit much. But, whatever. Might as well see whether the guilt train had any stops in… cock town? She'd workshop that metaphor later. "But I am being optimistic," she said, "because…" On impulse, she leaned closer to him to smell the air, the way a cartoon cat might admire a pie. Then she giggled. "You smell nice," she said, looking impish again. "And I liked snuggling with you."
Even if she'd been a dog at the time. She had a feeling that he wasn't generally the snuggling type. Something in the way he was trying not to touch her, not even a comforting hand on her arm. And how appalled he seemed at the very idea of even having her in his house, let alone having any fun with it. As he waffled and argued with himself, she spun idly on her toes, moving around him and in the general direction of his front door.
"If you wanted me," she said, "you wouldn't suggest sending me out into Valesport in the middle of the night with no pants." She stepped backward toward the door, clasping her hands behind her back and sending the sweater sliding down her shoulder again. "And as long as you don't," she continued, "I might as well find someone who does." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I'd really rather not bother you," she lied, "and it will be easier to meet someone who likes me if I leave now."
"I don't know you, either," she pointed out. "You just picked me up and carried me home, and put me in your bed, and pointed a gun at me." Okay, that might have been a bit much. But, whatever. Might as well see whether the guilt train had any stops in… cock town? She'd workshop that metaphor later. "But I am being optimistic," she said, "because…" On impulse, she leaned closer to him to smell the air, the way a cartoon cat might admire a pie. Then she giggled. "You smell nice," she said, looking impish again. "And I liked snuggling with you."
Even if she'd been a dog at the time. She had a feeling that he wasn't generally the snuggling type. Something in the way he was trying not to touch her, not even a comforting hand on her arm. And how appalled he seemed at the very idea of even having her in his house, let alone having any fun with it. As he waffled and argued with himself, she spun idly on her toes, moving around him and in the general direction of his front door.
"If you wanted me," she said, "you wouldn't suggest sending me out into Valesport in the middle of the night with no pants." She stepped backward toward the door, clasping her hands behind her back and sending the sweater sliding down her shoulder again. "And as long as you don't," she continued, "I might as well find someone who does." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I'd really rather not bother you," she lied, "and it will be easier to meet someone who likes me if I leave now."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-16-2015
"Adia is nice," he concedes with little else to say on the matter. He was obviously not going to convince her that people weren't usually deemed strays. He considered that she was damaged is some ways. On the other hand, he didn't want to assume that just because she might not be human, that there was automatically something wrong with her. His thoughts were a mess, as he watched her fidget in his sweater. It was some weird hour of the night, and he'd missed his medication since he'd not planned on being awake. Taking it now would ruin the schedule for the rest of the day, and work would be where he really needed it. He could deal with being without for now.
"It's not like I knew you were going to turn into a woman during the night." He gestured at her with hand that wasn't still tangled in his hair as he spoke. "It's not unusual for people to pick up dogs that look lost. You are a very small dog, I wasn't just going to let you wander in the middle of town." He dropped his hands and walked past her to get to the fridge. He opened it to pull out a bottle of water. "And I am sorry I pointed a gun at you." He closed the door and unscrewed the bottle cap. "Once again, I thought you were still a dog, and that grown woman you was an intruder." He took a drink, but it was mostly to force some of the words to not pour out of his mouth. He was determined to not make the conversation about snuggling.
"Maybe you should carry around a little note that says: 'Don't pick me up, unless you want to be in charge of a naked woman come sunset.'"
He turned to watch her as she slipped around him towards the front door. However, he failed to keep his gaze trained on her face when the sweater fell from her shoulder. He wondered if it was something she was doing on purpose, and then he wondered if seduction was her only method of attempting to get her way.
"Look. You're not… bothering me. I just don't understand. It’s not like it's completely normal for me to just…take you in. I mean. What’s the deal? You'd just live here now? And… poodle you is my house pet and woman you is…" he trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air. He had no idea what woman her would be exactly. A problem, most likely. All bouncy curves, and sad eyes. Wide smiles and a habit of not wearing clothes. Dog Adia was fine. Woman Adia seemed like she would be more than he could handle. Or resist.
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-16-2015
Nadine rocked on her heels, fidgeting as he spoke. She fiddled with the sleeves of the sweater, pulling the arms down over her hands and seeing how much of the knit hung down, too long for her. Then she decided that made her look twelve, so she rolled them back up again. "I'd rather wander around as a very small dog," she said, "than as a… slightly below average woman." Slightly above average, actually, when it came to height, but no one ever believed her about that. It wasn't like she kept the statistical data handy. "And it isn't like I let just anyone take me home." This was true. Anyone who'd ever fucked up while dogsitting knew that tiny legs could move fast. And it was an easy enough thing, to hide until whoever it was gave up. She paused. "But I was only teasing, anyway. Thank you for putting the gun away."
That was almost genuine. There were many worse things that could happen when a man with a gun found a naked woman in his kitchen. She was generally good about not getting into those situations, but she could hardly be expected to be perfect. And there was something a little peculiar about thanking him for being a decent person, but it was what it was.
"Carrying things never works," she said dismissively, admiring the bob of his Adam's apple as he took a drink. "Believe me, I've tried. Pretty sure my glasses are somewhere in Minnesota. Which is what I get for being in Minnesota in the first place, but, you know. Shit happens." In the process of covering her shoulder again, the sweater fell down off of the other one, completely defeating the purpose. "Which is not to say," she added, "that you are in charge of me."
She stopped moving toward the door, but she didn't move away from it, either. "It isn't like there has to be any kind of formal arrangement," she said. "I can take care of myself, really. But if you want to give me someplace warm to stay for a l'il bit – and maybe keep me company… haven't you ever had a friend spend the night? It'll be like that."
That was almost genuine. There were many worse things that could happen when a man with a gun found a naked woman in his kitchen. She was generally good about not getting into those situations, but she could hardly be expected to be perfect. And there was something a little peculiar about thanking him for being a decent person, but it was what it was.
"Carrying things never works," she said dismissively, admiring the bob of his Adam's apple as he took a drink. "Believe me, I've tried. Pretty sure my glasses are somewhere in Minnesota. Which is what I get for being in Minnesota in the first place, but, you know. Shit happens." In the process of covering her shoulder again, the sweater fell down off of the other one, completely defeating the purpose. "Which is not to say," she added, "that you are in charge of me."
She stopped moving toward the door, but she didn't move away from it, either. "It isn't like there has to be any kind of formal arrangement," she said. "I can take care of myself, really. But if you want to give me someplace warm to stay for a l'il bit – and maybe keep me company… haven't you ever had a friend spend the night? It'll be like that."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - megs - 05-16-2015
Why did she have to move so much? She fidgeted on her feet and with the sweater. Movements that caught his eye and made it difficult for him to look away again. "Should I be flattered, then?" He chuckled, but it didn't sound amused. "Some part of you wanted to come home with me?" His free hand when through his hair. He'd been internally bitching about how often she moved, completely unaware of his own repetitive habits. "I don't literally mean in charge." For whatever reason he had felt the need to defend himself. Not wanting to come off as some kind of gross misogynist that just assumed she could not take care of herself. He put his water on the counter and picked up his phone to look busy for a few minutes, before following to join her in the foyer.
Grayson sighed and stared down at her, standing in front of his door with nothing but a cardigan on. Her dedication to her cause was cute, if nothing else. With a groan he pushed his hands beneath his glasses to rub at his eyes. By this rate she would get what she wanted just by keeping him awake long enough. Oh yeah, just like a sleep over, he thought bitterly. He knew that some sort of misplaced guilt would eat away at him if he put her on the street now. If she murdered him or robbed him blind he would just chalk it up to him fucking deserving it for being a god damn idiot.
If she stayed, she would need clothes wouldn't she? She couldn't just wander around in his sweaters forever. She'd mentioned glasses, and she would probably like to have some of those.
Food. Toiletries.
This was just like having a pet. He wouldn't be convinced otherwise.
"Uhm. Okay. Fine," he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, before using them to motion her away from the door. "I guess you can stay in the guest room. If you want. And... we'll just see where things go from there I guess."
Picking Up Strays [Closed] - Tindome - 05-16-2015
"Not some part of me," she corrected. "Me. My whole entire self." She tapped the side of her already-prominent nose. "The nose knows," she said. "And like I said – you smell nice. And you're cute. Even if you're grumpy." She gave an exaggerated frown to demonstrate.
She could have backed away when he approached, but she didn't. She liked giving him an opportunity to loom. He seemed the looming type. Or brooding. Or both. Or else he was just sleepy. That was always an option. Lots of people seemed broody if you kept them up long enough.
This, she could already tell, was going to be more than a one-night job. He was going to take work. While she objected to work on principle, she was willing to make exceptions. It wasn't like she had anything else to do, or anywhere else to be. He'd be her little project, until something more interesting came along. She didn't think she'd have to act completely sweet, which would have made the whole affair unfeasible. Just… kind of sweet. Just a little bit of a damsel in distress. Dog in distress? Damsel in a dog?
Whatever.
As his hands fell from their place of surrender, she took a risk and caught one of them. Not that she could hold onto him for very long if he objected, since his hands were considerably bigger than hers. She didn't try to press their palms together, or lace her fingers with his, or anything like that; just caught his hand in two of hers and held it, as if at any moment she would fall to one knee to kiss his ring. But she didn't do that, either. "I liked your room," she sighed, "but the guest room is fine. If you want to show me where it is?" He certainly wasn't going to take her by the hand of his own accord, she could tell that already. "Not that I'm very tired yet, since I already slept in the park. And by your car. And by your bed. And on you."
She could have backed away when he approached, but she didn't. She liked giving him an opportunity to loom. He seemed the looming type. Or brooding. Or both. Or else he was just sleepy. That was always an option. Lots of people seemed broody if you kept them up long enough.
This, she could already tell, was going to be more than a one-night job. He was going to take work. While she objected to work on principle, she was willing to make exceptions. It wasn't like she had anything else to do, or anywhere else to be. He'd be her little project, until something more interesting came along. She didn't think she'd have to act completely sweet, which would have made the whole affair unfeasible. Just… kind of sweet. Just a little bit of a damsel in distress. Dog in distress? Damsel in a dog?
Whatever.
As his hands fell from their place of surrender, she took a risk and caught one of them. Not that she could hold onto him for very long if he objected, since his hands were considerably bigger than hers. She didn't try to press their palms together, or lace her fingers with his, or anything like that; just caught his hand in two of hers and held it, as if at any moment she would fall to one knee to kiss his ring. But she didn't do that, either. "I liked your room," she sighed, "but the guest room is fine. If you want to show me where it is?" He certainly wasn't going to take her by the hand of his own accord, she could tell that already. "Not that I'm very tired yet, since I already slept in the park. And by your car. And by your bed. And on you."