Re: Innocentia Trucidavit 1c/?
anonymous
November 22 2010, 22:24:16 UTC
"Is that something you should say about a cop?" Scarlet teased again, running a hand through her hair. "Especially as one as good as Francis? He was telling me how many arrests he's made since he's partnered with you. Something like fifty!"
"Fifty?" Arthur snorted. "Unlikely. Unless he's been pulling triple shifts on top of our own, he's barely arrested ten."
"So he lied?"
"You sound surprised," Arthur leaned back and shook his head. The waitress slipped them the check and handed Arthur a napkin, winking. Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at the number. He smiled back at her and tilted his head.
"Of course I am," Scarlet's voice pulled him back; she was looking at him, but her eyes slid to the waitress and held for a second. Sliding back to Arthur, she smiled, and Arthur shrugged. "I didn't peg him for a liar. What did she give you?"
"Her number," Arthur shrugged. "You're a little naive if you think that Francis' record is spotless. Sure, he's a cop, but he's an idiot."
"He's intelligent!" Scarlet defended. "Just... kind of... out there," she waved her hands before sighing and retrieving her credit card. "Should we go? I know a great place where we can swim or fish! Or even just lay back and look at the clouds!"
Arthur ran a hand through his hair and checked his watch: four o'clock. "I think I can do that," he said, rising and holding out his hand, "If you're willing to put up with this bore for a little bit longer?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Scarlet answered and threaded her fingers through his. They stayed like this for a moment before Scarlet laughed and tugged him along, nearly separating his shoulder from his socket. She was exhausting, he thought as he was pulled towards his car.
But he would be exhausted for her.
------------------------------
No one crosses you. You think you make that clear each time the knife slides along a neck, opening a wound that weeps red. Sometimes you lick that life blood off of your knife and wonder if all blood has a distinctive taste. This woman's tastes like lies and smoke. No one crosses you, and she has. You remember the caress of her hair, and you close your eyes because no one else will know how it felt. She still stares at you, life draining out of her, lips moving in a plea.
You wonder, now, if she regrets leaving, and what she did. You smirk and press your fingers into the cut, watching her gurgle as she drowns on her own blood. At last she dies and you lick the blood off of your knife, again, and turn her onto her stomach. A quick cut removes her shirt and you begin your job, cutting into the delicate skin, the blood still oozing despite her death.
When you finish her body is cold and her eyes are fogged over. Death has taken her, and it is probably for the best. No one can go through life taking what belongs to other people without repercussions, after all, and you saved her from that. You should applaud yourself; you are a hero.
Picking her up--she is light now--you bring her to the river and let it wash away the evidence, watching her form drift down with the current. Your knife is washed next, and then you wash yourself, knowing that you cannot be seen with this blood. There is still work to be done here, after all, and you cannot blow your cover just yet. You need to lay low, seeing as how you have already made a mistake. Mistakes can be fixed, though, and you smirk as you adjust your clothes and saunter out of the forest.
There is no one around but an old man. Harmless, old, and weak, he stumbles to you and asks you if you have change, or food, because he is just so hungry, so very hungry.
You hand him a hundred dollar bill and tell him of a great Italian place you know before laughing and leaving the park.
Re: Innocentia Trucidavit 1e/? Above was 1d!
anonymous
November 22 2010, 22:26:24 UTC
"Smiley strikes again," Francis lifted the tape and watched as Arthur crossed, a smile on Arthur's face. Francis said nothing (though he did lift an eyebrow) and led his partner over to the victim. "No positive ID yet, but we do know that our Jane is a victim of smiley. Typical throat slash, and there's a note carved into her back as usual."
"I know her," Arthur said, staring at the girl. Francis gazed down as well and frowned. It was hard to recognize someone who was hideously bloated, he noted, and turned his gaze towards Arthur. "I mean, I don't know her, but I've seen her before. She was my waitress on my da--outing a week ago," his cheeks reddened and Francis laughed. "What does the note say?" Arthur spat out, and Francis sobered.
"Here, read it for yourself," he turned the woman over and stood back, letting Arthur draw closer. Arthur frowned, staring at the words. "Gruesome, no?"
"No one takes what is mine," Arthur read. He frowned, pulling out the number and running his fingers over it. The women had to have a past, he thought.
"I wonder what her connection with the other victims is," Francis mused, tapping his fingers against his chin. "The note is a lot shorter than most of them, and more direct. This may be a woman completely unrelated to everything..."
"Smiley doesn't chose victims based on a connection to each other, but to himself," Arthur countered and crumpled his paper. "So this woman must have had a history with him..."
"You're very clever," Francis shot back and Arthur glared. "Look, I'll find out if she has any boyfriends with records, or anything like that. In the meantime, why don't you stop worrying about it? You look like you've gotten no sleep," Francis' jaw went slack before he grinned. "Oh, you dog."
"For your information, the brats in the apartment below me would not shut up," Arthur grumbled as he shoved the paper back into his pocket. "I'll gather any information on the waitress, and you try and find a connection. Deal?"
"Sure," Francis pulled out a cigarette and lit it, puffing. "Smiley's going to get more victims, Arthur," he said and turned his gaze towards the other man. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Find him," Arthur spat back, "find him and bring him to justice, if I don't kill him myself."
"Interesting," Francis mused, "you should take a break," he suggested. "Another one, for a longer time. Maybe a week," Arthur glared and Francis shrugged. "You haven't been yourself since the last case," he pointed out with a shrug. "You should try it. See a psychologist. Be with Scarlet."
"I know you two are good friends," Arthur began, "but I don't need your advice concerning her or my career. So just let me do what I have to."
"You're taking a week off, no objections," Francis stuck up a finger. "You need it. Our last case didn't end well. Find what comfort you can at home and with Scarlet. Just... just go," he shoved Arthur towards the car. "Goodbye, partner. Come back when you are feeling better!"
"Shove off," Arthur moaned as he got in and started his car. Francis stepped back a few steps and smirked.
"Au revoir," he waved before walking back over to the corpse.
Yessssss.. This is amazing Author!Anon~ I just adore fem!US/UK so much! And you've made a lovely setup similar of a TV crime drama show where it feels like I'm watching a show.
Another factor that I like about your story is that you didn't make it too obvious on who's the serial killer, I'm absolutely unsure if its America or England. ARGH! It's killing me! XD
This is a wonderful fill you created, and I'm definitely looking forward to the next update! :D
Re: Innocentia Trucidavit 1e/? Above was 1d!
anonymous
November 24 2010, 03:49:44 UTC
Psst, France, England, you're using the wrong pronouns. This is delightfully devious, anon. I'm already imagining the epicness of the climax in my head, and oh boy, this one's gonna be a doozy.
I love how much attention this prompt has gotten. XD Gotta love psycho America/England ♥
Innocentia Trucidavit 1f/?
anonymous
November 28 2010, 02:16:32 UTC
Stooping, he opened his hand and stared at the paper from Arthur's coat. "No one takes what is mine, hm?" he asked the corpse, studying the paper again. "Of course not. Once you think someone is yours, it must be terrible," he straightened and chuckled to himself. "Perhaps it is time that I see someone about this."
Turning away from the corpse, he pocketed the number and began to walk, flipping open his cell. "Yes, I know it's late. No, I don't think it's inappropriate," he stopped and lit a cigarette. "I need you do to something for me. A background check. Gilbert, do not get mad at me. This is your job, yes? Then do it. I need a check on Amelia Aniwaya, and follow any name changes. Yes, I know. Thank you," he shut the phone
"No one takes what is mine indeed," he muttered, looking back at the corpse. It was being bagged and he turned to his car, sliding inside. "It is a dangerous game you play," he muttered and started the ignition, "I hope you know what you are doing, Arthur."
--------------------------
"I don't need a vacation, ma'am!" Arthur paced. His captain watched, an eyebrow raised, her feet planted on the desk. Arthur eyed her as he waited for a response. If anyone could be counted on, he thought, it was Captain Hedervary.
"I think you do," she said. "You've been despondent and prickly since the last case," she paused. "More than usual, of course."
"Of course," Arthur mimicked and she frowned. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I respectfully disagree. I've been better than ever, now that you've allowed me back on the job."
"I'm sorry, Arthur, but I agree with Bonnefoy," Captain Hedervary answered. "Look, just take two months off. Relax. See a psychiatrist or some shit like that. When you come back, you'll be happier and a better cop for it, and Bonnefoy will agree to work with you. I can't have you two disagreeing on every point just because he insists that you're not well."
"Smiley's still out there," Arthur argued. "Do you really think it's smart of me to take a vacation while a serial killer is on the loose, and no one knows anything about him?"
"No," Captain Hedervary sighed, "but it's even more stupid to have a cop that can't handle himself on the job with a serial killer on the loose. Trust me, Arthur, Bonnefoy's right. You need some rest. Please just take it and let us handle it?"
"You can't be serious," he protested.
"I'm sorry, but my answer stands. You need to take a vacation. You never have, not as long as I've been captain here."
"Which, granted, hasn't been a long time," he countered.
"You're getting on my nerves, detective," she growled. "Take the damn vacation."
"I respectfully refuse."
"I don't really give a damn. Take the vacation willingly or be forced. Your call," she crossed her arms. "Need I remind you that a forced vacation in this case usually requires psychological evaluations and the need to wait before being allowed on the force again?"
Re: Innocentia Trucidavit 1f/?
anonymous
November 28 2010, 02:17:18 UTC
"You're not giving me much of a choice, are you," Arthur's shoulders slumped. Captain Hedervary smiled and rose.
"You'll do fine," she answered. "Now get out of my office, detective, and take that vacation," she sat back down, looking at the papers on her desk. Arthur opened his mouth, shut it, and stomped out of the room.
So much for depending on the captain to make sure he would be able to avoid the vacation everyone else thought he needed, he thought. He left the precinct and walked to his car, driving off towards his home. Two months. That was it. Two months. He could handle that, he thought as he looked around his room.
He opened his cell and dialed, smiling as she answered. "Hey, Scarlet. Turns out I have a lot of free time on my hands. Do you want to go out again sometime?" his smile widened. "Really? Great. I'll pick you up tomorrow, at eight. Good night."
With a smile he shut the cell phone and got ready for sleep, sinking into the mattress. "It's only two months," he whispered to himself. "That's not a long time," he repeated this as he closed his eyes.
--------------------------
It was ordinary, as far as dates went. Scarlet propped her head on her hand, pushing her pasta around the plate. Across from her, Arthur was pushing his pasta around as well, the two of them ignoring each other. Scarlet glanced across the table to catch Arthur doing the same.
"It wasn't that good, was it?" she asked, looking down at her plate. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be a good movie."
"It wasn't terrible," Arthur answered. "It was..." he shrugged. "It was interesting."
"That's what moms say to their daughters to tell them that they need to get another shirt," Scarlet giggled, covering her mouth. "You're sweet to try and say it wasn't utter shit though."
"Well, I did like the woman," Arthur shrugged. "What was her name? Uh, it was something with a K, right?"
"Layla," Scarlet corrected, "but that was a good try. Really, it's alright. This food's pretty good, right?" she paused and sighed. "I'm sorry that this is such an awful date. Next time, I'll let you decide everything."
"You still want another one?" Arthur asked and she laughed, leaning forward and claiming his hand.
"And another, if you're willing," Scarlet answered, "and many more after that."
"Really?" his eyebrow rose and she shook her head. "What is it?"
"You do a lot of doubting. I like you, Arthur," Scarlet smiled at him. "I like you a lot. I want to keep going out with you, alright? So don't worry about it so much," she waved for the check.
"I think it's my turn," Arthur slid his card into the booklet and handed it back to the waiter with a smile. "You can get it next time," he winked and she smiled. "Now, do you need a ride home?"
"No thanks," Scarlet said. "Thanks, though," she grinned at him. "Maybe next time you'll be able to give me a ride back," she winked and he blushed. The waiter handed the booklet back and Arthur signed. "Shall we?"
"Yes, m'lady," he held out his arm and she laughed. Scarlet took his arm and they walked outside together, arm in arm. "When do you want to have the next date?" he asked and she pulled him down for a kiss.
"I don't want this one to end," she whispered, "I barely know anything about you, and this is our second date."
"It's only a second date," Arthur replied as his hands rested on her shoulders. "Not too big a deal if we don't know a lot. If you want, though, that could be our next date?" he smiled. "I'd like to know more about you," he blushed and stared at his feet.
"I bet you do," Scarlet snickered, releasing his arm. "Alright then, next date," she ran her fingers through his hair. "I'll see you soon?"
"I'll see you soon," he promised and she turned towards her car with a smile. As he drove off, she was approached by a man with a blinding smile and an outstretched hand.
Scarlet frowned and entered her car, slamming the door shut and driving off into the distance.
Re: Innocentia Trucidavit 1g/?
anonymous
November 28 2010, 02:18:04 UTC
You tremble as she comes near you, fists ready to strike. He sits at the table, coffee at his lips, staring at a newspaper. He does nothing as you scream for his help. She punches you once and then again, her fists falling on your ribs and your jaw. As her fists cease, you can feel the blood dripping down your lips.
"Clean yourself up," she spits and throws paper towels at you, "then make me something to eat, or you're not going to school."
"I made you food, honey," he looks up, the first thing he has said since this has started. He pushes the plate of pancakes over and smiles at her, all the love in the world shining in his eyes. You stare at the plate of pancakes and at his throat.
"I don't want your food, dear," she throws the pancakes at you. With a wet smack they hit, the syrup sticking to your face. "Make it," she orders you and you drag yourself to the stove, staring at the pan. Picking up the spray and the batter, you make her the pancakes, setting them down on the table in front of her. "You're such a good kid," she purrs, rubbing your hair before yanking your face forward. "If you ever stop being a good kid, you know what will happen."
"I have to go to work, now," he stands and smiles at you both, kissing her before giving your back a pat. "Make sure you do what your mother wants," he calls as he leaves the two of you alone. She throws her hair back and smiles at you.
"Why don't you come up with me?" she asks, and you nod, leading the way, ignoring the hand that caressed and hurt.
Noooo, what an evil cliffhanger. Although that guy who approached Scarlet in the end had me suspecting its either Alfred or Ivan. But that's just me, anything can happen :P
Daaarn, you HAVE to update soon. I'm seriously making theories as I type this comment.
"Fifty?" Arthur snorted. "Unlikely. Unless he's been pulling triple shifts on top of our own, he's barely arrested ten."
"So he lied?"
"You sound surprised," Arthur leaned back and shook his head. The waitress slipped them the check and handed Arthur a napkin, winking. Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at the number. He smiled back at her and tilted his head.
"Of course I am," Scarlet's voice pulled him back; she was looking at him, but her eyes slid to the waitress and held for a second. Sliding back to Arthur, she smiled, and Arthur shrugged. "I didn't peg him for a liar. What did she give you?"
"Her number," Arthur shrugged. "You're a little naive if you think that Francis' record is spotless. Sure, he's a cop, but he's an idiot."
"He's intelligent!" Scarlet defended. "Just... kind of... out there," she waved her hands before sighing and retrieving her credit card. "Should we go? I know a great place where we can swim or fish! Or even just lay back and look at the clouds!"
Arthur ran a hand through his hair and checked his watch: four o'clock. "I think I can do that," he said, rising and holding out his hand, "If you're willing to put up with this bore for a little bit longer?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Scarlet answered and threaded her fingers through his. They stayed like this for a moment before Scarlet laughed and tugged him along, nearly separating his shoulder from his socket. She was exhausting, he thought as he was pulled towards his car.
But he would be exhausted for her.
------------------------------
No one crosses you. You think you make that clear each time the knife slides along a neck, opening a wound that weeps red. Sometimes you lick that life blood off of your knife and wonder if all blood has a distinctive taste. This woman's tastes like lies and smoke. No one crosses you, and she has. You remember the caress of her hair, and you close your eyes because no one else will know how it felt. She still stares at you, life draining out of her, lips moving in a plea.
You wonder, now, if she regrets leaving, and what she did. You smirk and press your fingers into the cut, watching her gurgle as she drowns on her own blood. At last she dies and you lick the blood off of your knife, again, and turn her onto her stomach. A quick cut removes her shirt and you begin your job, cutting into the delicate skin, the blood still oozing despite her death.
When you finish her body is cold and her eyes are fogged over. Death has taken her, and it is probably for the best. No one can go through life taking what belongs to other people without repercussions, after all, and you saved her from that. You should applaud yourself; you are a hero.
Picking her up--she is light now--you bring her to the river and let it wash away the evidence, watching her form drift down with the current. Your knife is washed next, and then you wash yourself, knowing that you cannot be seen with this blood. There is still work to be done here, after all, and you cannot blow your cover just yet. You need to lay low, seeing as how you have already made a mistake. Mistakes can be fixed, though, and you smirk as you adjust your clothes and saunter out of the forest.
There is no one around but an old man. Harmless, old, and weak, he stumbles to you and asks you if you have change, or food, because he is just so hungry, so very hungry.
You hand him a hundred dollar bill and tell him of a great Italian place you know before laughing and leaving the park.
How foolish and trusting people are.
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"I know her," Arthur said, staring at the girl. Francis gazed down as well and frowned. It was hard to recognize someone who was hideously bloated, he noted, and turned his gaze towards Arthur. "I mean, I don't know her, but I've seen her before. She was my waitress on my da--outing a week ago," his cheeks reddened and Francis laughed. "What does the note say?" Arthur spat out, and Francis sobered.
"Here, read it for yourself," he turned the woman over and stood back, letting Arthur draw closer. Arthur frowned, staring at the words. "Gruesome, no?"
"No one takes what is mine," Arthur read. He frowned, pulling out the number and running his fingers over it. The women had to have a past, he thought.
"I wonder what her connection with the other victims is," Francis mused, tapping his fingers against his chin. "The note is a lot shorter than most of them, and more direct. This may be a woman completely unrelated to everything..."
"Smiley doesn't chose victims based on a connection to each other, but to himself," Arthur countered and crumpled his paper. "So this woman must have had a history with him..."
"You're very clever," Francis shot back and Arthur glared. "Look, I'll find out if she has any boyfriends with records, or anything like that. In the meantime, why don't you stop worrying about it? You look like you've gotten no sleep," Francis' jaw went slack before he grinned. "Oh, you dog."
"For your information, the brats in the apartment below me would not shut up," Arthur grumbled as he shoved the paper back into his pocket. "I'll gather any information on the waitress, and you try and find a connection. Deal?"
"Sure," Francis pulled out a cigarette and lit it, puffing. "Smiley's going to get more victims, Arthur," he said and turned his gaze towards the other man. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Find him," Arthur spat back, "find him and bring him to justice, if I don't kill him myself."
"Interesting," Francis mused, "you should take a break," he suggested. "Another one, for a longer time. Maybe a week," Arthur glared and Francis shrugged. "You haven't been yourself since the last case," he pointed out with a shrug. "You should try it. See a psychologist. Be with Scarlet."
"I know you two are good friends," Arthur began, "but I don't need your advice concerning her or my career. So just let me do what I have to."
"You're taking a week off, no objections," Francis stuck up a finger. "You need it. Our last case didn't end well. Find what comfort you can at home and with Scarlet. Just... just go," he shoved Arthur towards the car. "Goodbye, partner. Come back when you are feeling better!"
"Shove off," Arthur moaned as he got in and started his car. Francis stepped back a few steps and smirked.
"Au revoir," he waved before walking back over to the corpse.
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There aren't enough fics with Fem!America~
I can't wait for more!
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Thank you!
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Another factor that I like about your story is that you didn't make it too obvious on who's the serial killer, I'm absolutely unsure if its America or England. ARGH! It's killing me! XD
This is a wonderful fill you created, and I'm definitely looking forward to the next update! :D
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This is delightfully devious, anon. I'm already imagining the epicness of the climax in my head, and oh boy, this one's gonna be a doozy.
I love how much attention this prompt has gotten. XD Gotta love psycho America/England ♥
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Turning away from the corpse, he pocketed the number and began to walk, flipping open his cell. "Yes, I know it's late. No, I don't think it's inappropriate," he stopped and lit a cigarette. "I need you do to something for me. A background check. Gilbert, do not get mad at me. This is your job, yes? Then do it. I need a check on Amelia Aniwaya, and follow any name changes. Yes, I know. Thank you," he shut the phone
"No one takes what is mine indeed," he muttered, looking back at the corpse. It was being bagged and he turned to his car, sliding inside. "It is a dangerous game you play," he muttered and started the ignition, "I hope you know what you are doing, Arthur."
--------------------------
"I don't need a vacation, ma'am!" Arthur paced. His captain watched, an eyebrow raised, her feet planted on the desk. Arthur eyed her as he waited for a response. If anyone could be counted on, he thought, it was Captain Hedervary.
"I think you do," she said. "You've been despondent and prickly since the last case," she paused. "More than usual, of course."
"Of course," Arthur mimicked and she frowned. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I respectfully disagree. I've been better than ever, now that you've allowed me back on the job."
"I'm sorry, Arthur, but I agree with Bonnefoy," Captain Hedervary answered. "Look, just take two months off. Relax. See a psychiatrist or some shit like that. When you come back, you'll be happier and a better cop for it, and Bonnefoy will agree to work with you. I can't have you two disagreeing on every point just because he insists that you're not well."
"Smiley's still out there," Arthur argued. "Do you really think it's smart of me to take a vacation while a serial killer is on the loose, and no one knows anything about him?"
"No," Captain Hedervary sighed, "but it's even more stupid to have a cop that can't handle himself on the job with a serial killer on the loose. Trust me, Arthur, Bonnefoy's right. You need some rest. Please just take it and let us handle it?"
"You can't be serious," he protested.
"I'm sorry, but my answer stands. You need to take a vacation. You never have, not as long as I've been captain here."
"Which, granted, hasn't been a long time," he countered.
"You're getting on my nerves, detective," she growled. "Take the damn vacation."
"I respectfully refuse."
"I don't really give a damn. Take the vacation willingly or be forced. Your call," she crossed her arms. "Need I remind you that a forced vacation in this case usually requires psychological evaluations and the need to wait before being allowed on the force again?"
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"You're not giving me much of a choice, are you," Arthur's shoulders slumped. Captain Hedervary smiled and rose.
"You'll do fine," she answered. "Now get out of my office, detective, and take that vacation," she sat back down, looking at the papers on her desk. Arthur opened his mouth, shut it, and stomped out of the room.
So much for depending on the captain to make sure he would be able to avoid the vacation everyone else thought he needed, he thought. He left the precinct and walked to his car, driving off towards his home. Two months. That was it. Two months. He could handle that, he thought as he looked around his room.
He opened his cell and dialed, smiling as she answered. "Hey, Scarlet. Turns out I have a lot of free time on my hands. Do you want to go out again sometime?" his smile widened. "Really? Great. I'll pick you up tomorrow, at eight. Good night."
With a smile he shut the cell phone and got ready for sleep, sinking into the mattress. "It's only two months," he whispered to himself. "That's not a long time," he repeated this as he closed his eyes.
--------------------------
It was ordinary, as far as dates went. Scarlet propped her head on her hand, pushing her pasta around the plate. Across from her, Arthur was pushing his pasta around as well, the two of them ignoring each other. Scarlet glanced across the table to catch Arthur doing the same.
"It wasn't that good, was it?" she asked, looking down at her plate. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be a good movie."
"It wasn't terrible," Arthur answered. "It was..." he shrugged. "It was interesting."
"That's what moms say to their daughters to tell them that they need to get another shirt," Scarlet giggled, covering her mouth. "You're sweet to try and say it wasn't utter shit though."
"Well, I did like the woman," Arthur shrugged. "What was her name? Uh, it was something with a K, right?"
"Layla," Scarlet corrected, "but that was a good try. Really, it's alright. This food's pretty good, right?" she paused and sighed. "I'm sorry that this is such an awful date. Next time, I'll let you decide everything."
"You still want another one?" Arthur asked and she laughed, leaning forward and claiming his hand.
"And another, if you're willing," Scarlet answered, "and many more after that."
"Really?" his eyebrow rose and she shook her head. "What is it?"
"You do a lot of doubting. I like you, Arthur," Scarlet smiled at him. "I like you a lot. I want to keep going out with you, alright? So don't worry about it so much," she waved for the check.
"I think it's my turn," Arthur slid his card into the booklet and handed it back to the waiter with a smile. "You can get it next time," he winked and she smiled. "Now, do you need a ride home?"
"No thanks," Scarlet said. "Thanks, though," she grinned at him. "Maybe next time you'll be able to give me a ride back," she winked and he blushed. The waiter handed the booklet back and Arthur signed. "Shall we?"
"Yes, m'lady," he held out his arm and she laughed. Scarlet took his arm and they walked outside together, arm in arm. "When do you want to have the next date?" he asked and she pulled him down for a kiss.
"I don't want this one to end," she whispered, "I barely know anything about you, and this is our second date."
"It's only a second date," Arthur replied as his hands rested on her shoulders. "Not too big a deal if we don't know a lot. If you want, though, that could be our next date?" he smiled. "I'd like to know more about you," he blushed and stared at his feet.
"I bet you do," Scarlet snickered, releasing his arm. "Alright then, next date," she ran her fingers through his hair. "I'll see you soon?"
"I'll see you soon," he promised and she turned towards her car with a smile. As he drove off, she was approached by a man with a blinding smile and an outstretched hand.
Scarlet frowned and entered her car, slamming the door shut and driving off into the distance.
--------------------------
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"Clean yourself up," she spits and throws paper towels at you, "then make me something to eat, or you're not going to school."
"I made you food, honey," he looks up, the first thing he has said since this has started. He pushes the plate of pancakes over and smiles at her, all the love in the world shining in his eyes. You stare at the plate of pancakes and at his throat.
"I don't want your food, dear," she throws the pancakes at you. With a wet smack they hit, the syrup sticking to your face. "Make it," she orders you and you drag yourself to the stove, staring at the pan. Picking up the spray and the batter, you make her the pancakes, setting them down on the table in front of her. "You're such a good kid," she purrs, rubbing your hair before yanking your face forward. "If you ever stop being a good kid, you know what will happen."
"I have to go to work, now," he stands and smiles at you both, kissing her before giving your back a pat. "Make sure you do what your mother wants," he calls as he leaves the two of you alone. She throws her hair back and smiles at you.
"Why don't you come up with me?" she asks, and you nod, leading the way, ignoring the hand that caressed and hurt.
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Daaarn, you HAVE to update soon. I'm seriously making theories as I type this comment.
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*stabs the mother in above part*
DON'T TOUCH THE CHILDREN!! D:<
Lovin' your writing style here, first person is definitely a good way to hide the narrator's identity. :3 Thumbs up for you. d^_^b
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