they're at a speakeasy. AND YOU KNOW THEIR RELATIONSHIP.theresjustchaosAugust 12 2011, 18:16:03 UTC
[ Dean's been to just about every joint in town trying to get some information about the case. It's not easy; no one really seems to want to talk about the dame that was murdered recently, especially since the events surrounding her death are pretty unbelievable. If he doesn't focus on the case, though, he'll start thinking about Caroline, about the woman he hurt and left so many months ago
( ... )
OH YES I DO. /gives you a novel.stopkissingmeAugust 12 2011, 18:34:08 UTC
[It'd been months since Dean Winchester left her in this lousy town, left her heart broken and bitter. Sure, she'd had her heart stomped a few times before, Caroline was the type of girl who loved too easily some might say. But something had been different about him
( ... )
[ The moment Caroline turns around and her face registers, Dean feels his stomach drop to the floor. His heart feels like it stops beating, too, like it's seized up in his chest, but he tries not to let it show. At least, not in anything other than the way his easy-going (but fake) smirk slides off his face and his jaw clenches for a moment.
This is the exact thing he feared about coming back here, the one thing he had been trying so hard to avoid. How is he going to explain being back? Especially after he told her, in so many words, that he couldn't come back? (Okay, sure, he meant that more in a "I can't come back for you" rather than a "I can't come back even if there's a job" but he knows Caroline. She'll take it personally.)
His fingers tighten around the badge in his pocket but otherwise, he tries to stay relaxed, to not give anything away. Anything more than he may have already given away, that is. ] Caroline. It's, uh--
[ His free hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. ] I wasn't expectin' to see you here.
Nathan wasn't your typical Mafia boss, he actually cared about the people around him rather than seeing them as means to an end. That being said, he was not happy to see Amy Pond come walking back into his club and right into his back room to boot.
He graces her with a warm smile. "Miss Pond," he says standing to offer her his hand, "What brings your brand of trouble my way?"
"What makes you think I'm in trouble?" she counters, reaching out her hand to grip his with a playful eyebrow slowly rising. Of course, they both knew that was a lie. Trouble was always following Amy, or perhaps she liked the dangerous attention of it all. And she was sure Nathan realised that.
Then, as she let go of his hand, she let hers slide down to grip her hips. "Or is it a crime to visit a friend?"
Nathan did realize how much Amy enjoyed danger it was why he always had one of his people keeping an eye on her as a favor to the Doctor, her companion and employer.
He waved her to a seat and resumed his own. "It is when your friend controls most of the unsavory activities of New York....so if you wouldn't mind getting to the point."
You know, alleyways aren't usually my favored place to meet and have a drink, Cobb.
[He'll fix his suit jacket and tie, glancing around, wondering why they were even here. Usually if they were to speak business it was with a glass of bourbon some where much less dank and smelly than this.]
[This whole tie business isn't usually his thing either, but well, he was trying to look pretty for you, Cobb. He had to sometimes. Make a good impression, all that.]
Well then, if not a drink, why my good man are we here? Some daring new adventure you have lined up for us? Though who us is I'd love to know. Surely Arthur will be part of this, yes? [Always with the stick in the mud.]
The MEs have come and gone, and now there's just a chalk outline and an alley full of possible evidence where the shill met her sticky end.
This is Ram's least favorite part of the job. Even the cleaner alleys, like this one, aren't easy to sort out; the pavement stains and rags of newspaper could be hours or days old, could hold vital clues or represent nothing to do with the crime at all. At least there isn't a dumpster. It's always a pleasure to catch that break.
What he isn't sure about is why the lieutenant left him working with her. But hey, he's not gonna knock it.
"Have you found anything?" Gem walks up, slowly, as if she owns the place. It is how she handles these situations--confidence and quiet cool. Showing anything less, as a woman, would not serve her well.
Moving over to the chalk, she bends down, gloved fingers touching the blood stain. Three bullets. No more, no less, she is sure.
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This is the exact thing he feared about coming back here, the one thing he had been trying so hard to avoid. How is he going to explain being back? Especially after he told her, in so many words, that he couldn't come back? (Okay, sure, he meant that more in a "I can't come back for you" rather than a "I can't come back even if there's a job" but he knows Caroline. She'll take it personally.)
His fingers tighten around the badge in his pocket but otherwise, he tries to stay relaxed, to not give anything away. Anything more than he may have already given away, that is. ] Caroline. It's, uh--
[ His free hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. ] I wasn't expectin' to see you here.
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He graces her with a warm smile. "Miss Pond," he says standing to offer her his hand, "What brings your brand of trouble my way?"
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Then, as she let go of his hand, she let hers slide down to grip her hips. "Or is it a crime to visit a friend?"
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He waved her to a seat and resumed his own. "It is when your friend controls most of the unsavory activities of New York....so if you wouldn't mind getting to the point."
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[He'll fix his suit jacket and tie, glancing around, wondering why they were even here. Usually if they were to speak business it was with a glass of bourbon some where much less dank and smelly than this.]
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Who said we'd be having a drink?
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Well then, if not a drink, why my good man are we here? Some daring new adventure you have lined up for us? Though who us is I'd love to know. Surely Arthur will be part of this, yes? [Always with the stick in the mud.]
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This is Ram's least favorite part of the job. Even the cleaner alleys, like this one, aren't easy to sort out; the pavement stains and rags of newspaper could be hours or days old, could hold vital clues or represent nothing to do with the crime at all. At least there isn't a dumpster. It's always a pleasure to catch that break.
What he isn't sure about is why the lieutenant left him working with her. But hey, he's not gonna knock it.
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Moving over to the chalk, she bends down, gloved fingers touching the blood stain. Three bullets. No more, no less, she is sure.
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