⛆ citrus vaporwave ⛆ @1301publicity - Tumblr Blog

With how dense Teddy's own anatomy is, he does knock into Leslie, but seems to do it on purpose, folding into him fully, his head on his shoulder as he takes the tissue and dabs at his eyes.

"...I'm glad I have you. Even if you are a right pain in the arse. You're right, though. If they knew I was well off, now, they'd try to get back together just to dip their sticky mitts in my wallet."

Leslie pulls the words from his head, and he sighs, his brow turning up in a slight frown. "Aye, you're right. They all suck." He tucks his knees up, and looks at the mugshot again, his brow turning up in a soft, sad frown. "...Maybe a little. Can we go home? I have to have a very important conversation with my daughter."

1301publicity

There's hesitation in Leslie's physicality. This lingering feeling that he's doing it wrong. But he drapes his nearest arm across the backs of Teddy's shoulders anyway, letting the weight of it wrap him up in some sort of extra security.

"When I'm right, I'm right, though usually I am only a right pain." He hands the photo over and reaches forwards for his glass. The gratitude is something he still doesn't know how to handle, so he drowns it. When he sets his glass back down, it's empty.

Slowly, so slowly, he settles back into the couch and lets himself actually lean against Teddy in turn, hand wrapping around his shoulder. But he doesn't look at him, at that sad face. "I'll get you a seat on my flight back. But I'm warning you now, it's not going to be some happy union. She's kinda got daddy issues." Terrible, terrible man. He looks ready to get hit again. "I can get you her number, her address, her workplace, whatever. But you gotta promise me you're ready to take a verbal beatin'."

#://ic #bleedinghearth #{ contact (teddy.toony); }

bleedinghearth

And he is miserable, looking downtrodden and tired and tempestuous. There's a storm in his heart, and he's not sure what to make of it. He'd been wondering, for twenty years, what he'd done wrong. If he'd done anything wrong.

"How can you be so sure? She en't the first woman who skipped out on me after I planted a sprout in 'er. It's like they just wanted...they just had..."

He grimaces.

"They had forest fever."

It makes him feel sick. He knows he's beautiful. He's just enough elf that it shows in his features, his ears ever so slightly pointed, his eyes ever so slightly too sharp, his hair just a little too perfect.

The fact that Mila ran on another man only brings the slightest solace. A serial fuck-and-runner is more digestible than the idea that he was used for his genetics.

He sniffs, and wipes away the tears from his face. "...I fuckin' hate mundies. Present company excluded."

1301publicity

Out of all the things to not have ready, tissues is such an oversight to make. Leslie stands abruptly, but the way that he pushes his weight up through his knees means it isn't fast. He ambles to the bed and pulls the box off the side table next to it. They're cheap fare, but the place paid to have a box put in every room. He holds them out as he takes a seat on the couch next to Teddy, his stockier weight denting the cushions in and threatening to knock their shoulders together.

"I know it isn't you, because if any of these women actually knew you half well, they'd wring you for every ounce of fatherhood and child support they could." It's a bit sardonic for reassurances, but it smells of much more effort than Leslie would spend on anyone else. Their elbows touch, briefly, when Leslie turns to try a smirk just as ill fitted as his words. "No you don't. You hate heartless old birds that just want to copulate."

Even that much hate, Teddy simply doesn't have in him. If he could muster any up, Leslie would be missing a few teeth that he didn't deserve to keep anyway.

No, what Teddy has is just too much love for his own good. Love that a certain "fatherless" delinquent back islandside could use. Leslie picks up the mugshot again, printed in full color, and leans back with it, oily fingers staining the glossy print on the edges where he touches it. "Does it hurt more that she's a dead ringer, then? Only thing she got from Mila was the melanin."

#://ic #bleedinghearth #{ contact (teddy.toony); }

bleedinghearth

The seat across from Leslie is taken, Teddy's forearms resting on his legs as he leans comically far forward in a seat not made with his unusually large size in mind. His eyes are hooded again, soft, gentle, a little bit tired, how Leslie's used to seeing them. He's back to being curious rather than agitated, all because he's been bribed with pastries.

Which he helps himself to one of, pulling a sugared donut hole out of the box and munching on it absently, while Leslie explains his process. Of course. Can't keep his damn nose out of anything.

"...Mila," he mutters, almost reverently, as though he'd seen a ghost. He takes the certificate in his free hand, looks at the paper, runs his thumb over the faint shadow of where an embossed stamp was on the original document. And then, instead of angry, as he'd been before, something creeps in around his eyes that's deeply sad, that puppy-dog look he always gets when he misses someone in his bones, a tear rolling down from his right eye where the scar across his face notches his bottom lid.

He doesn't say anything else, just staring into the copy as though it holds the answer to every hard question he's ever had, except one.

Why?

1301publicity

". . . I don't think it was you, Teddy." It's as if Leslie can hear the question, or see it behind those miserable eyes. When he's actually trying, when he's putting that degree to good use, he can be terrifyingly intuitive. He doesn't draw too much attention back to the folder, but he thumbs through the pages, already knowing what's on all of them well, and what order they're in. "She ran on the first guy, too. Don't know if you knew that already." There's another birth certificate, similarly empty on one side. Leslie scoots it out from underneath things with his fingertips.

There's only a few more papers in the folder, but Leslie's taking it slow. He knew this is where the anger would end up. It's where it usually does, isn't it? The quiet is oppressive. He can hear the buzz of the electricity in the walls, the way that the fan on the ceiling rattles its pullstring into the side of itself. When he takes a sip of his bourbon, it's way too loud. Teddy probably needs the quiet, at least for a minute, to let it all sink in. Leslie will give it to him.

#://ic #bleedinghearth #{ contact (teddy.toony); }

bleedinghearth

Poor Leslie still pleads his case like he's begging for his life, or as least as close as a man with as flat an affect as his gets to it, his tone carrying only the slightest hint of unsteadiness, but enough to be heard. It's enough to mostly lower Teddy's hackles, satisfied that he's put the fear of God into an otherwise fearless man.

It's by the grace of Teddy's mercy and general disdain for violence that Leslie is spared, with him prowling past him as if he doesn't know he's right there. He moves as a cougar, quiet, toe-first, with intention, and he eyes the table. Bourbon, the usual poison when it comes to meetings with Beaumont, and...baked goods.

The latter are enough to have Teddy warm back up to him, that deep, deadly growl roiling in his chest being replaced by a resigned, and begrudgingly pleased chuff.

"Aw'right. Fine. I'm listenin'."

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Leslie takes a deep breath, holding it for a handful of seconds before it gusts out of him, slow, dragging. He wishes there was more smoke on it. But he seems to have placated Teddy just well enough. The door is shut carefully, a look given down either end of the hall to make sure they haven't disturbed anyone enough to draw them out of their rooms. Nothing. Good.

And he's no longer sharing space with a dragon. Just a man, just the scotsman he's known since high school, justifiably upset with him even if Leslie used to think the joke would be worth it. He crosses to the coffee table and sits down in the chair he's pulled away from the desk, leaning down and going through the little ritual of pouring a finger of bourbon into his glass before he even touches the folder. Opening it up, there's that same mugshot, clipped on top of everything else. "I found her on accident. Was checkin' the precinct database for somethin' else when I saw her name. Chadnezzar. All it takes for me to fall into a little rabbit hole."

His square hands start unpackaging the couple of papers, a heavy fingertip falling hard enough in a couple of taps to dent the paper just a little. "First thing I did was check her personals, and that's all it took. No paternal parentage on file. And mom's name..." There is, indeed, a whole copy of a birth certificate in the folder, where his finger fell. Half of it is empty, the spaces where a father's information should go. But on mom's side? The most damning thing. Mila Chadnezzar. Her name creases with the weight of Leslie's fingertip, before being smoothed out. The portrait on the paper is straight out of time. Exactly the way she looked when she disappeared.

Leslie hands over the birth certificate specifically, but there's a few more papers still left in the folder. He goes on to fill the other glass. "I kept diggin', even though this by itself says it all. Jus'. Lookit that for a minnit and tell me if you think I'm still fuckin' with you."

#://ic #bleedinghearth #{ contact (teddy.toony); }

bleedinghearth

Leslie's looking down the metaphorical barrel of a gun when he opens the door, Teddy ceasing his assault on the construction work and instead staring daggers into him with piercing eyes, his scissor-bitten teeth set firmly in a snarl. Leslie's seen him this mad before, but that was before he got therapy for his anger management issues.

"A few hours, Lesbo?" he hisses, still seething, steam jetting from between the gaps in his fangs, "You didn't think, for that whole time, whether that'd bite you in the arse?"

And of course the lout's hiding from him. He pries what are only the very beginnings of claws into the gap, trying to find purchase to rip it wide open. "Explain yourself, Beaumont. What do you mean you're not fucking lying to me."

1301publicity

The whole time, Leslie doesn't raise his voice once, way too even for the situation at hand. There's only a tremor in it, some animal instinct shaking his bones at the idea of danger. Otherwise, it's as droll as ever, but it's at least missing all of that snarky and crass bite that fits right between his yellowed teeth. "It occurred to me..! That's why I'm here, Teddy. Look, jus'- I'mma let you in, and I'll show you what I mean. Don't kill me for thinkin' I was funny for a minnit."

The door finally swings open all the way, Leslie walking behind it, keeping it between himself and the dragon like it would do anything if Teddy would actually do anything with his ire. That nervous smile is still crookedly threaded across his face, and he swallows. A gesture is made to the coffee table and the couch. There's a bottle of bourbon and two rocks glasses, and a manila folder that's so flat it must only have a couple of things in it, held shut with a single clip. Teddy knows Leslie well enough to know the bourbon is a staple and not a peace offering, so instead, there's a little paper bakery box.

Leslie slowly leans out from behind the door, starting to shut it. He swallows. "You hafta calm down enough to listen before I start explainin'."

#://ic #bleedinghearth #{ contact (teddy.toony); }

1301publicity

continued from here with @bleedinghearth

He'd expected a call, not a text. He'd expected the little off-brand thing to burn out its motors blowing up on him, had he just let it ring. There he goes, feeling guilty, the way only Teddy can make him. But he's not exactly going to let himself get remorseful.

[txt: UNKNOWN CONTACT] > Closer than you think. No need to catch the first flight back to kill me.

The location ping attached really is close. Not a ten minute drive to a hotel.

[txt: UNKNOWN CONTACT] > Room 305.

He types and backspaces through about five different jokes and an "I love you" before he decides to just send the plain number. Why couldn't Teddy just call? Easier not to second guess himself out loud.

Oh well. His grave is dug now. All that's left to do is wait.

bleedinghearth

[txt: UNKNOWN CONTACT] > I AM my own flight back you odious little mite

Oh, he's upset upset. He doesn't pull out the flowery Shakespearean insults unless he's truly angry. But it seems Leslie beat the mail here, because he sends Teddy a lead on his current whereabouts. A ten minute drive. Not even.

He gets into his obsidian-black Quant F, and makes a silent trek to the hotel Beaumont's staying at, and that small amount of passing time is enough to cool his jets, his grip on the leather steering wheel loose by the time he gets there, the fire died back down to embers.

...At least, until he's damn near knocking his hotel room door down.

"BEAUMONT, YOU RATTY, GREASY PIECE OF SHIT!"

1301publicity

The door clicks open only seconds after Teddy's fists come down on it, but it doesn't swing out invitingly, caught instead by the chain bolt. The weasel of the hour doesn't even really put his face in the opening, even though he knows things wouldn't turn physical more than him being put on the ground. His bashful smile is pursed, nervous. "Shh, Teddy- this place's not cheap enough for all the yellin'. Does it make you feel better that it only took me a few hours after puttin' the thing in the post to feel like shit about it?"

Leslie knew it would only take looking at that face to actually feel the guilt he knew he should. It's part of why he closes the door back, admittedly, though it's mostly to actually undo that chain bolt and get the lashing he deserves. But the door doesn't open back up right away, either. Leslie presses his forehead to the jamb, lips almost up against the tiny gap. "Prolly make you feel a lot better that I'm not fuckin' with you. Least- 'm not lying to you."

#://ic #bleedinghearth #{ contact (teddy.toony); }

continued from here with @bleedinghearth

[txt: UNKNOWN CONTACT] > Closer than you think. No need to catch the first flight back to kill me.

The location ping attached really is close. Not a ten minute drive to a hotel.

[txt: UNKNOWN CONTACT] > Room 305.

Oh well. His grave is dug now. All that's left to do is wait.

#://ic #bleedinghearth #{ contact (teddy.toony); }

cedarscentedofficer‌:

“Long story. That particular bit is explained with a transmog I took a couple of years ago. Voluntary, permanent, toggle-able transmog tincture from the Feather. I just decided to take Amy’s fiddling to its logical conclusion myself. Don’t ask me how it works. As for the…ehm. Well, it’s almost entirely to do with the stray. He’s had someone on his tail for ten-some years because some fuckin’ feud, dead family on both sides at each other’s hands.”

He runs a hand partway through his hair, as if mental preparing himself for talking about this, his hair still clutched in his fist, eyes wide and staring a hole in the floor, his brow encroaching on his hairline.

“From what I understand, Jean had locked this fucker in his home plane or something, and asshole had spent that ten years gnawing at the seal like a rat until it broke. Stalked after him like a gods-damned spook for…I don’t know how long after he got here. That’s about where I started talking to you about him getting killed.”

Teddy visibly has to search his memory, eyes screwing shut tightly, the grip on his hair getting more vicious, that blond skunk-stripe tangled in his spidery digits. “It was stressed to me by multiple involved parties, ones who had history, that there was absolutely no non-violent, nonlethal way of getting him to fuck off. Only way to get rid of him was to…get…rid, of him.”

He wets his lips, eyes coming open again, his mouth parting in a small, distressed frown. “And because I think that transmog might’ve been a little too potent, sometimes I get even more protective of people I’m fucking than normal. Draw your own conclusions.”

Right. Amy’s fuckery. He’d somewhat forgotten that that had happened, but perhaps only because he wanted to. Teddy had enough going on from the start. Now he’s got everything and the kitchen sink shoved inside him.

It’s so much easier to just think of him as a god damned human being.

Leslie finally actually sits down now, wheeling the desk chair over a bit closer so he can lean back and listen. His eyes, while as tired and baggy as ever, are observant. Of the streak in his hair, charming and exquisite, of the regretful, traumatized body language. His tension. His sickness. His faltering memory.

Another sip to it all.

“. . . So a decade long inter dimensional feud ended up here, and you got roped in. Then, you ended it. You did end it, right? He’s not going to show up in another reality instead of dying and find his way here?” As much as he hated magic and the supernatural, Leslie dealt with too much of it to not think of things on these lines.

“Except it’s not really over because the asshole probably had some kind of deus ex machina laying around. And I’m guessing it’s not in... In your stomach.” God, that’s a hard subject to keep coming back to.

Leslie pauses, his legs crossing. “. . . But you came here to drink and forget it all. Not talk about how it could have gone wrong.”

Moral support... Right. Probably his worst skill, but he tries to break a smile. It’s all he can do. He’s awful with words of comfort. He only has skill in helping others, and himself, forget things with his hands. And apparently he can’t use them.

#cedarscentedofficer #://ic

cedarscentedofficer‌:

“Atta’boy.” Teddy chuckles as Leslie proves his sense of humor to be just as morbid as always, but his smile quickly fades.

“Do you want me to start from the beginning or give you the Cliffs Notes, because it’s a hell of a ride that ends in a fucking nuke going off, and according to the guy who just spent the past forty-eight hours stewing in my GI tract, there might actually be a nuke going off. So.”

He looks deadpan, one eyebrow raised, head tilted low to pin Leslie from under his brow, his eyes so sunken and his circles so dark he looks like a starving vampire.

Leslie’s brows quirk. A nuke...?

And then he grimaces, nearly gagging. He didn’t realize that gross enough things to make him gag still existed, but somehow, that did the trick. His hand almost slips in pouring their glasses, but it’s too practiced a motion for him to actually fuck up.

“You... You ate a man? You.” He has to take a sip before he can even serve the glasses. “I think you’re going to have to start from the beginning. Like, how you even became capable of something like that.”

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

cedarscentedofficer‌:

“I feel cadaverrific,” he mutters, as he stumbles into the room to plunk down into the nearest chair, throwing his head back. He’s not dressed nearly as nicely as he usually is, instead in a ratty old tee shirt and distressed black jeans, and a pair of sandals.

“God, Lesbo, you are sight for sore eyes. And plug me between the eyes if I ever say that again.”

Leslie is only dressed as nicely as he ever is- an old but decent shirt, some slippers, and his boxers. His stubble actually looks a bit under control, at least. He wrinkles his nose a bit and smirks as he wanders back to the window, shutting the curtains. “Don’t think I will.”

On the way back, he pulls two highball glasses out of the nearly full sized fridge the hotel room provides, the bourbon next to them. Ice is in a small bucket in the actually separate freezer. “So, before you drink enough to forget it, what the hell even happened?”

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

cedarscentedofficer‌:

[Txt: Backdoor Man ] > Roger

It’s not too long- maybe twenty or thirty minutes- before there’s a knock on the door, but it’s not Teddy’s usual “cop knock,” it’s a single thnk.

And, muffled, on the other side of the door: “Leeeeeeees.”

Leslie’s peering out the window on this high floor, out onto the still busy and still normal streets of London, when Teddy thunks into the door. He almost startles- no, he does, but it’s over in a second. “Coming.”

The light on the cardholder blinks out as he turns the handle, holding the door open with his shoulder. “Jesus fuck, Ted, you look post mortem. Go sit down.”

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

cedarscentedofficer‌:

[ Txt: Backdoor Man ] > I had no choice les [ Txt: Backdoor Man ] > It was him or jean and guess fucking what [ Txt: Backdoor Man ] > capped. im coming to find you, big red bastard incoming

[ Txt: Backdoor Man ] > Im fine with bourbon. I dont care about taste I just care about getting so hammered I forget this week ever happened

[ Txt: Toons ] > You can tell me all about it once you get here, don’t try articulating this shit on your T9 [ Txt: Toons ] > Room number 1305

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

cedarscentedofficer‌:

@1301publicity

[ Txt: Backdoor Man ] > i have made a mistake [ Txt: Backdoor Man ] > well ok i didnt because I saved london from potential fuckery but [ Txt: Backdoor Man ] > Listen I am very not proud of what I did and I need moral support and maybe also a stiff drink

[ Txt: Toons ] > Shit, I make jokes about you turning and you go and do something you can’t handle [ Txt: Toons ] > I got booze and a place to drink it but you’re gonna have to be okay with bourbon

[ MMS: Toons ] > ||Follow me on Google Maps!||

[ Txt: Toons ] > I’m turning that off in five so like, save a screencap

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

“I’ve told him I can hide a body. Gross as it is, that extends to...”

“Half digested slag. Christ in hell, that’s nasty.”

#://ic #► [commentary]

cedarscentedofficer‌:

“All right, all right, fair point. Listen. I’m tired, I’m nervous, I’m angry, and I don’t know what I want. It’s high school all over again, but this time, there’s lives on the line.” He knocks back another mouthful of his cocktail, sighing out gruffly afterward.

“I understand necessity. I just don’t like remembering my “career,” if you can even call it that. More like a fuckin’ hellhole of a job where I never got a break because no one but me knew how to do their fucking job! GOD!” He hisses sparks from between his teeth, then breathes in to cool off his temper, running his fingers through his hair.

“…You’re sweet to say that.” And now Leslie’s playing the right cards again, in the den of a very angry dragon, but one who likes him. “He’s functionally immortal, yeah, but, Lesbo, it’s…it’s Gav all over again. Only silver lining is that there’s no sympathetic link that the bastard in this situation can endlessly taunt me with. I’m just reliving all my old traumas and it’s not fun.”

Leslie offers, though, and Teddy smirks, humorlessly. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s nothing to hide about a man who doesn’t exist, according to the register. If things go pear-shaped, though, I’ll know who to contact.”

High school all over again. Yeah. Leslie scrapes his eyes over the man across the table from him, the memories red hot in his stomach. He had two of those pretty eyes in high school too. But something sour drops into his gut and curdles at the sparks, the shorter man having to avert his eyes. So many ways for Teddy to get under his skin, too many, and he’s gone soft from playing it too safe for too long. He wants to tell Teddy to calm down and stop blowing smoke, but between not having the constitution in that one quick moment and knowing he’ll calm himself down, Leslie’s mouth stays shut.

“... You know you woulda made a way better chief after Kacy left.” He says it in a way like he’s reading off the last page in a book, with another in the series. Something to pick up later.

“Don’t say pear shaped like it’s a bad thing, Toony. Pears are good shapes. So’re apples. And hourglasses...” He wipes at his nose with the hand caging his drink, before taking a sip from it. “Just keep my number close. I’m not leaving London for a bit, I don’t think.”

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

cedarscentedofficer‌:

“Listen, when your heart breaks, so do a lot of other things.” His resolve, his dedication, his constitution…he doesn’t want to think about it, using a thumb to wipe away the beginning of a tear, wrinkling his nose in disdain at himself. “I’d kindly thank you not to remind me.”

Leslie might feel the way Teddy’s stare burns into him, twice as potent now that he had his eye back, as he admits that he caused him trouble and obstructed justice behind the black. He doesn’t say anything about it, specifically, but the glare he has in his eyes is akin to a dragon having found someone mucking about in its hoard. Smoke rolls out from between his teeth as he huffs outward, then drops it. Let bygones be bygones.

And yet a part of him wants to grill Leslie for making his already-miserable time on the force that much harder, all because it made him money and kept him in good graces. Selfish. He’s always been selfish. Absently, Teddy pulls at the light streak in his hair, looking at it instead of Leslie. No, he should be better than that. It’s over. He’s retired, Leslie’s here and not there, they’re supposed to be reconnecting.

And he’s happy to see him, even though he’s just admitted to be an indirect cause of a good chunk of his misery.

“I’d shut up about what you did while I was on the force, if I were you, Beaumont.” Last name. Minefield.

“He’s just as much of a magnet for trouble as the last three. He’s got a pursuer with a vengeance, but he’s asked me not to get involved until he talks to him. ‘Course, talking to him means he’s certainly gonna get killed, but he’s told me ad nauseum it’s not gonna be permanent. So. If you want to ponder on what to do with the bastard besides making him into an entreé, I’m free to listen.”

While Leslie feels the burn of that turquoise hot in his skin, he does not appear to. So much so that Teddy might think him straight oblivious, if he didn’t know better. He groans, grimacing in an exhausted sort of way. “You tell me you’re curious, then you get all pissy with me when I start being honest. Whaddya wanna hear, then? That I cherry picked the okay jobs outta the wretched ones because I’m a good little boy like you’ve always wanted me to be? That I didn’t have to do some of the worst shit that came across my desk because I gave up my degree for a new life in someone else’s hands?”

His voice lowers, the damage from all his smoking always apparent when he does, making him sound even more tired than he already looks. “Because I didn’t. And I couldn’t. Teddy, you’re gonna have to forgive me for not knowing how to talk to people after this long I been at it. You’re still the last friend I had.” He’s had relations, he’s had people in his life. But all these years later, and Teddy is the only one he thinks qualified.

And for now, he has to think of it in the past tense. Safer that way.

“Well if your friend’s good ‘n immortal, I figure he should have things handled, unless his friend is too.” Entree? Teddy’s always had fun with his words, but that one just doesn’t land right. “I’m just saying I can help you hide shit from the yard, if shit needs hidden.”

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

cedarscentedofficer‌:

“I knew for a long time you were doing some shady shit, sure. I just never had enough evidence to nail you for any of it.” And he would have, if he’d bothered- amongst all the other cases constantly keeping him busy, because no one knew how to do their fucking job- to do any digging. One man can only do so much.

“I have enough justice to turn you in in a fucking heartbeat. I just don’t have enough of a fuck or enough employment status,” he clarifies, knocking back another slug of his drink. “Wouldn’t have mattered if we were friends, fucking, dating, or married, I would have tossed you in a cell with the rest of the lowlifes. But, lucky for you, I’ve washed my hands of that thankless fucking toil where all I got for my trouble was more trouble.”

He runs his hand through the light streak in his hair, sighing heavily, but quietly. “Fine. Shoot. Can’t do anything about it even if I wanted to; we’re overseas. And besides, I’m curious, now that you don’t have to hold back. I wanna know what you’re getting at, you old snake.”

“Alright, sure, when you first joined up with the force? Yeah. You would’a had me in the unfun kinda cuffs. But once Kacy was out of the picture, you stopped carin’ about the law and started carin’ more about your morals. Used the badge to enact your own justice instead of bein as much of an enforcer.” What, was this suddenly an evaluation?

The next drag is so long, he nearly exhausts the entire stick. “And now that you’re retired, you’re an old hero instead of a cop. Now more than ever, you’re gonna surround yourself with rogues.”

“But just ‘cause I’m safe around you now doesn’t mean I’m gonna go outing all the ways I was secretly a pain in your ass over the years. Though uh. A good start would be to say I had somethin’ to do with keepin’ C.A.T.’s maker hidden. But she’s a bad example, she could cease to exist without my help.”

He sighs, having shredded the filter on his cigarette, nearly burning his lips by burning it down so close before he actually puts it out on the ashtray built into the table. “And maybe I am getting at an offer. This dog ‘o yours sounds like he gets into a lot of trouble. And maybe for once, I could help you out instead of being a pain in your ass. You’re not on the dark side, but you got friends there.”

#://ic #cedarscentedofficer

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