ɐןןǝıuɐp ❧ [01] A Murderer Among Us

[unpained]

Who: Daniella, her victim, the witnesses, and police.
Where: A near empty street in Somni
Style: First
Status: Open to the Police. If anyone else wants to to join in, PM me first!
Warnings: Murder and Gore

Comments

[scientize]

Good. [And her expression lightens considerably at that. Naomi hadn't put too much faith in this date going into it, but perhaps it was wrong of her to not trust that Javert would make an effort for the woman he cared so deeply for. Though things have been relatively easy for them in this lifetime, she does recall a time when he had to actually work hard for her attention. Maybe he's realized just how much she means to him and just how little time left there is for them.

Surprisingly, her hand snakes across the table to rest on his. For a woman who so often makes physical contact with those she is close to, it's sadly been awhile since she's reached out to him. A small, smug smile smooths across her face at his reassurance.] I wouldn't stand a chance getting you home if that was the case.

[There's an unusual pause in her speech. Naomi is really doing her best to speak honestly but fairly with him. It isn't natural for her to just drop any resentment or negative feelings she holds, especially if they have been simmering under the surface for awhile, but the effort she is making seems to be going well so far.]

Still, I think we can just go home after this. [She squeezes his large hand affectionately.] And spend some much needed time together. [For once she doesn't just mean sex. The woman genuinely wants to just be with him with no interruptions.]

[chose_death]

[Javert polishes off the mug of coffee and refills it automatically. Two more spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of cinnamon go into the drink. He stirs, watching her with coy suspicion through the steam.]

A quiet night! Next you will demand flower petals scattered on the furniture. And dim candles. And the warm, rose-scented bathwater.

[He rolls his eyes in mock horror.]

Or -- Good lord! You'll put me to reading one of those trash novels of yours. The ones with the shiny-haired buffoons flouncing to battle without clothes or armor on the covers. For advice, you'll tell me. Cruel woman!

[scientize]

[Naomi grins warmly in reply, expression certainly looking more lively than it had earlier when he'd arrived at her laboratory. Her confidence in him must already be growing steadily for the moment.] You make it sound like it's a punishment to treat me well, dear. Any other man would happily jump in to take your place if that's how you feel.

...Besides [and here is the mystery, Javert], maybe that's exactly what I want. A little extra romance.

[She really can't deny inwardly how amusing it would be to see him try to be what most people viewed as romantic.]

[chose_death]

I warned you that I didn't have much in the way of gallantry.

[If it were not for the intense expression in his eye, that tight grin and the way he bends a cheek and jaw to his palm would be almost coquettish. In a rather disturbing way to most.]

You cannot fashion a fairy-tale prince out of the dungeons. Then all you have on your hands is a rather elaborate delusion.

--But.

[He drinks and imperceptibly bends closer to Naomi. He murmurs,]

Challenge foolishly accepted. [His lids lower to his coffee, which he absently sloshes with a tea-spoon.] We shall see what I can manage. [And implicitly, his own ideas and terms, of course.]

[scientize]

[It may not be exactly what she wants from the man, but this should be an interesting and very different start to things. Naomi's tiny hand stays with his, her coy smile and amused gaze trained on Javert's unattractive face.]

Oh, you must really care if you're willing to go that far. [And while it should be obvious as a joke, there is more than just a hint of truth to the statement. Under his gaze here on their little date, Naomi feels very cared for. It's been far too long since she's held his full attention like this.]

[chose_death]

Just don't let's push it too far. I have my limits.

[And suddenly, the grin on Javert's face falters to a thin, flat line, with the coffee mug hovering at a tilt near his lips. His eyes narrow, and he rises partially from his chair, staring off into a space just beside Naomi's left shoulder.

But just as suddenly as the change swept over him, it is gone, replaced by a calm curiosity. His broad nostrils flare.]

No shirtless escapades in the streets, for instance, [Javert resumes in his same conversational tone, as if nothing has seized him. He drinks and sets the mug down.] That would be indecent. Will you move to the right a little?

[The question comes so suddenly and smoothly that it is enough to throw even the most prepared individual back on his toes. Just what is going on?]

[scientize]

[To say that such a calm but nevertheless unexpected request would take Naomi by surprise was an understatement. The woman stares strangely at her husband for a few long moments, the sweet smile slipping geacelessly from her lovely expression to only be replaced by a look of absolute confusion. Those delicate eyebrows of hers fly up before turning to glance suspiciously over her shoulder.

She sees nothing out of the ordinary. There's a few cafe patrons sitting behind them, lingering over conversation together, but the street seems empty otherwise. Just what was going on here?

Turning back to face her husband, Naomi doesn't move as he's so oddly requested of her. If there is nothing there why should she? Instead, he receives the full force of her questioning stare.] What is it?

[chose_death]

I see something... [Javert mutters through barely-moving teeth and lips. His eyes glaze over for a moment, unfocused, thinking, his stare hovering around that certain spot on the street ahead.

He sets his napkin on the table beside him and returns to himself, looking again to Naomi.]

Do you smell that? The tinny flavor. Not your fork or spoon.

[scientize]

[Something? How vague, dear.

After a moment or two of contemplation, her dark-haired head shakes.] No, not at all.

[The hand resting on top of his moves to gently touch his face.] But it doesn't matter. Forget it. We were trying to have a conversation together.

[chose_death]

It is a good evening. [Javert admits slowly and carefully. His hand automatically moves up to grasp hers. He searches her eyes in silence, the lines between his brows deepening swiftly. He gives the hand an affectionate squeeze and places it gingerly atop the table. He clasps it.] It is rare that you will have me admit that I am glad for the time.

[Still, he rises to his feet.]

Excuse me, I am going to check something, [he murmurs.] I must, if it is what I think it is. I won't be long. Wait here a minute.

[He gives her hand another light squeeze and steps carefully past her. On the ground ahead, he stops in front of what looks to be merely a puddle on the ground. He crouches down to take a closer look at it, head bending low, and lightly touches the surface. He looks to the right around the next corner, his eyes tracing something along the ground, gets up and disappears behind side of the building.]

[scientize]

[And so without a single word of complaint, Naomi Javert waits for her husband's hopefully quick return, an unreadable expression on her face.

It's hard for even the woman to know what she's feeling as Javert tenderly showed her some rare affection before immediately running off, but she is saving her judgment for his return. Hopefully it won't be too long of a wait. This date is important.]

[chose_death]

[Javert is out of sight for about thirty seconds. When he reemerges, he has his Dreamberry cradled between his ear and his shoulder, and he is busily wiping his hands on his pocket kerchief. His deep, rolling, accented voice drifts toward her table, adjusted to as quiet but authoritative a tone as possible.]

At sixteenth and spruce. Do you got it? District Two. Quickly! Before someone less experienced in the matter trips over her!

[He tosses the phone down at his place on the table and resumes his seat. He looks noticeably grimmer, the kerchief flashing red stains, absently rubbing the residue off his grimed fingers. He is quickly losing himself to his thoughts, eyes bouncing along some invisible manuscript in front of his nose.]

[scientize]

[That isn't the kind of return she expected to see at all. Dark eyes drawn immediately to the vivid red being meticulously wiped from his long fingers, Naomi finally forces her concerned gaze back up to his grim face.]

What is it? What's going on?

[chose_death]

Quietly.

[It is his automatic response. Javert does not even glance at the other patrons in the cafe. Clearly he wants to keep this as secret and low-key as he can manage before the men he called arrive. His pupils appear to shrink before Naomi's eyes, and he looks steadily at Naomi.]

I am very sorry. I will tell you why.

[A simple, but extremely naked apology. Date's good as over, Naomi.]

Don't get up. Stay here with me. You must trust my word. [He looks down at the kerchief in his hands, repulsed, and folds up the bloody smears within itself. Back into his pocket it goes.]

There is another girl lying at the end of this alley here.

[scientize]

[It's a show of just how well the man knows his wife that he orders her to stay seated. Immediately at the first hint of an apology, Naomi stiffens uncharacteristically, expression darkening all at once. Temper already flaring up beyond his control, the petite woman glares threateningly across the table at the overworked and exhausted Chief Inspector.

She can guess where all of this is going.]

Let your men handle it. [She isn't sounding nearly as calm or quiet as he is.] People are hurt every single day in this city. You don't need to be there for each and every case.

[chose_death]

I don't, and I'm not. I cannot split myself into twenty different places.

[That is not to say Javert can duck out of the most high-profile cases. He does have an unusually high case load of high-stakes crimes, a testament to his skill and diligence in handling them.

Javert regards her very seriously, his face unreadable. He is attempting to gauge his wife, knowing that she will be less than pleased to be put on hold but seeing little suitable alternative with this new development. He has a committment to his duty. Besides, there is something very familiar about that dead girl he found...

He explains hurriedly, detached, with waning patience through closed teeth,]

This is how it is: she is killed in a manner the same as Mademoiselle Prosecutor's. Why, by all means! I can let my men handle it when they arrive, but then I am negligent! They will ask me what I was doing, why I had not performed my duties! That is a dirty use of my authority, Naomi. I won't have that. I can't.

But regardless you and me can't leave now. They must take our witness accounts. And I do not want to waste time with such ugly business when I can finish it quicker while I am here.

Again, I am very sorry. The timing cannot be helped. That is that.