Everyone has their vices.

Roy Earle, Chief Detective, Administrative Vice. Hollywood division of the LAPD. Circa 1947. {Independent RP blog from L.A. Noire}. Icon by flipspages ♥

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Without You

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“Thanks, I think,” he said, though he was unfazed. He turned back towards the crowd slightly, a bit farther away from the exit. Now that he was staying, he may as well have another drink or two.

The well wishes were perhaps a bit surprising. Though, he couldn’t reciprocate, given Barb’s mood.

“Moved to Santa Monica not too long ago.”

“Did you? It’s been a long time since I’ve gone. It’s beautiful there.”

It was the sort of small talk that harked back to their not so humble beginnings in The Blue Room. No wonder she had a sense of deja vu. The conversation wasn’t quite so fluid this time around, of course, the quips less energetic on her part. Idle chatter wrapped around something heavier.

“Recently moved myself,” Barbara pressed on. “It’s not far from my old apartment.”

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“Sure is.”

It was a bit strange, speaking to her like this after so long. A quiet separation that they both knew was long in the works. In all honesty, Roy had expected to find Barb a lot happier. For once in his life, his heart wasn’t committed to bragging.

“Oh yeah? How funny.”

He glanced off again, wondering where Eduardo was. He could really use another drink.

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Without You

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“Did it work?” Roy quipped, almost back to his old self for a moment.

The initial tenseness had seemingly passed, though the little lady still looked a bit… well, torn about something. Old feelings maybe. Women were like that.

“Eddie seems to be enjoying the appetizers. Guess we can stay a while longer.”

He shrugged. She really looked like she needed the company.

“It wasn’t completely useless,” she managed to chuckle.

His reassurance turned her head, the fingers around her drink curling. Eddie didn’t look entirely put out, and Alan was still elbow deep in conversation - though he did spare a look over every now and then.

Attention returning, her vibrant lips thinned, the silence thick. What came next wasn’t entirely untrue.

“I’m… glad to see you’re doing well. Do you still live in Hollywood?”

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“Thanks, I think,” he said, though he was unfazed. He turned back towards the crowd slightly, a bit farther away from the exit. Now that he was staying, he may as well have another drink or two.

The well wishes were perhaps a bit surprising. Though, he couldn’t reciprocate, given Barb’s mood.

“Moved to Santa Monica not too long ago.”

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Without You

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Roy was the opposite. He didn’t really hold any grudges against the tiny woman. Again, his feelings were more of a colorless annoyance. Though it was early, he was tired, his late-nights in Hollywood few and far between now, when his leg wasn’t acting up.

Barbara’s hollow laugh intrigued him, though. It was so unlike the lively office-worker he’d first met all those years ago. It seemed that time had taken its toll on them all.

Observing her quietly for a few moments, and looking over her shoulder to see that Eduardo was politely occupying himself with some hors d'oeuvres to give them some privacy, Roy made light of the situation.

“Come on, in this place? You could have any guy you wanted in here. Well, except for Eddie. Sorry, he doesn’t really like… well, your type.”

A familiar smirk forming.

Barbara’s anger was more her own doing than anything, she knew. But it helped a little, gave her outlet. It was better than taking up the bottle or losing herself in some other vice, she supposed.

“Trying to make me feel better?”

There was a grateful twinge in those pale smiled words. A touch of surprise, maybe. In the face of it, Barb felt a bit sheepish all of a sudden. Almost apologetic for the way she’d found him.

He wouldn’t see the faint furrow of her brow beneath that stylish fringe, gaze lingering upon him before she took in a deep breath, seemingly shaking something off. Trying to.

“Well, I suppose you’re in a hurry.”

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“Did it work?” Roy quipped, almost back to his old self for a moment.

The initial tenseness had seemingly passed, though the little lady still looked a bit... well, torn about something. Old feelings maybe. Women were like that.

“Eddie seems to be enjoying the appetizers. Guess we can stay a while longer.”

He shrugged. She really looked like she needed the company.

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Without You

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It wasn’t until her clarification that Roy thought to glance at her ring finger. An old tactic during his Detective days, but he was a bit out of practice.

Didn’t help that the drugs kept him sedated. Ironic, really.

“It’s certainly something,” he sighed in return, to match her shaky exhale. He’d been one of the youngest to ever retire. “And I’d say singleness suits you… but you look a little glum, sweetcheeks.”

Being mad would have been easier. Barb felt the whiplash of her flip-flop emotions, wasn’t entirely out of the red. But his reading, however rusty, wasn’t misplaced.

She couldn’t help the strained little laugh that fumbled from her.

“I’d hoped living frivolously for a change would help, but I’ve never been very good at that sort of thing.”

Though it hadn’t been for a lack of trying.

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Roy was the opposite. He didn’t really hold any grudges against the tiny woman. Again, his feelings were more of a colorless annoyance. Though it was early, he was tired, his late-nights in Hollywood few and far between now, when his leg wasn’t acting up.

Barbara’s hollow laugh intrigued him, though. It was so unlike the lively office-worker he’d first met all those years ago. It seemed that time had taken its toll on them all.

Observing her quietly for a few moments, and looking over her shoulder to see that Eduardo was politely occupying himself with some hors d'oeuvres to give them some privacy, Roy made light of the situation.

“Come on, in this place? You could have any guy you wanted in here. Well, except for Eddie. Sorry, he doesn’t really like... well, your type.”

A familiar smirk forming.

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Without You

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It wasn’t so much as disinterest as it was just…not having the emotional capacity. Not after this long.

She knew how he functioned. Part of why Barb had scared the hell out of him sometimes.

“Seems to pay the rent,” he noted, glancing her up and down and quietly taking in her cream-colored attire. Again, he could have made a comment about her artsy husband paying for her things. But oddly, he held back.

At the turn of conversation, Roy gave a shrug, leaning a bit further into his glitzy cane.

“Had a shootout during a drug-bust in ‘57. Same leg.” He paused to chuckle insincerely. “Can you believe it? I kept to desk work for a while, but after the second surgery they pushed me out.”

Roy kept it vague. It had made the news, after all. All of Hollywood was abuzz about it.

“Alimony,” she enlightened, despite herself. “But I do alright.”

Watching him favor one over the other, she briefly eyed that out of sorts limb.

The headline hadn’t escaped her. She’d been capable of feeling more concern than self-pity, and even found the courage to go down to the hospital. He’d been thoroughly doped up at the time, fast asleep. Barbara had stolen into the room before going yellow and making a quick departure.

Shoulders vaguely rolling, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“Retirement suits you.”

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It wasn’t until her clarification that Roy thought to glance at her ring finger. An old tactic during his Detective days, but he was a bit out of practice.

Didn’t help that the drugs kept him sedated. Ironic, really.

“It’s certainly something,” he sighed in return, to match her shaky exhale. He’d been one of the youngest to ever retire. “And I’d say singleness suits you... but you look a little glum, sweetcheeks.”

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Without You

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“Yeah, too sweet,” Roy agreed, with a noncommittal shrug. He decided to entertain her for the time-being. His own feelings were far more muted… knew a long damn time ago that they’d never last. But then again, who did?

Mostly, he was annoyed that she’d sideswiped his clean escape. Eduardo was fun with liquor in him.

“Oh, you know. Enjoying the retired life away from the force. Still working R&I?”

Said with some amount of pity.

There was no doubt as to his disinterest. Although Barbara didn’t think Roy completely unfeeling, even now, she knew he was good at keeping certain compromising emotions at bay. As far as he was concerned, their parting had been mostly unmoving.

“No,” she said, already feeling herself deflate slightly. “Still working City Hall, but I left that a long time ago.”

Her weight shifted, a glance thrown in Alan’s direction. His back was to them, a small gaggle of recognizable faces keeping him distracted.

“How’s the leg?”

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It wasn’t so much as disinterest as it was just...not having the emotional capacity. Not after this long.

She knew how he functioned. Part of why Barb had scared the hell out of him sometimes.

“Seems to pay the rent,” he noted, glancing her up and down and quietly taking in her cream-colored attire. Again, he could have made a comment about her artsy husband paying for her things. But oddly, he held back.

At the turn of conversation, Roy gave a shrug, leaning a bit further into his glitzy cane.

“Had a shootout during a drug-bust in ‘57. Same leg.” He paused to chuckle insincerely. “Can you believe it? I kept to desk work for a while, but after the second surgery they pushed me out.”

Roy kept it vague. It had made the news, after all. All of Hollywood was abuzz about it.

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Without You

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“Right,” Roy scoffed. “So damned lucky.”

Eduardo looked a bit shocked by her next question, nearly dropping the wine glasses as Roy sighed. “It’s fine. She knows.”

“Uh… how long has it been, now?” the smaller man asked. His face was flushed but he sounded downright proud. Roy stared, still expressionless as he shooed Eddie.

“Long enough. Babe… why don’t you put those things away before you fucking hurt yourself.”

Without hesitation, he obeyed, leaving the scorned lovers to themselves.

Lips temporarily occupied by her drink, she watched Eddie weave through toward the bar before returning to that less than enthused gaze.

“He’s sweet,” she said, nearly convincing. “How’ve you been, Roy?”

She should have left it. Returned to Alan’s side, letting her long gone beau go about his business. Back to a no doubt boastful home, with his cute little distraction. Barbara was loathe to realize the envy tightening in her gut. After all, she’d been the one to step away those years ago, who seemed just as content to keep things tense between them now.

When had she gotten so bitter.

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“Yeah, too sweet,” Roy agreed, with a noncommittal shrug. He decided to entertain her for the time-being. His own feelings were far more muted... knew a long damn time ago that they’d never last. But then again, who did?

Mostly, he was annoyed that she’d sideswiped his clean escape. Eduardo was fun with liquor in him.

“Oh, you know. Enjoying the retired life away from the force. Still working R&I?”

Said with some amount of pity.

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Without You

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Roy watched the still-familiar twitch of her mouth. Funny that she hadn’t changed her token red lips that were growing out of popularity in women’s fashion.

He could have said something about biology catching up to her, but he bit his tongue. Instead opted for watching his new lover meet old.

“Eddie Castillo,” his partner shrugged, taking her petite hand and cradling the glasses in the other. He looked to Roy helplessly.

“Barb here used to work at LAPD,” Roy clarified, tone flat. “Though few put a face to that voice.”

Painted fingers drawing back, her smile stuck.

“He was one of the lucky ones,” Barbara added, “and then some. Isn’t that right, Detective?”

More endearment than title. Even after all this time, the syllables weren’t nearly as curt as she would have liked, something bittersweet coiling in her own chest. She felt heavy.

“Have you two been dating long?”

A muted question, her dark head tilting as she shot a glance between them.

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“Right,” Roy scoffed. “So damned lucky.”

Eduardo looked a bit shocked by her next question, nearly dropping the wine glasses as Roy sighed. “It’s fine. She knows.”

“Uh... how long has it been, now?” the smaller man asked. His face was flushed but he sounded downright proud. Roy stared, still expressionless as he shooed Eddie.

“Long enough. Babe... why don’t you put those things away before you fucking hurt yourself.”

Without hesitation, he obeyed, leaving the scorned lovers to themselves.

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Without You

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Eduardo had taken both of their glasses, ready to return them to the bar when the tiny woman (enhanced by heels, naturally) practically waltzed right up to them, a petite hand placed.

Roy paused, walking stick thumping again, and shamelessly seizing her up. His expression may have been unreadable as he looked down at her.

“Past my bed time,” he quipped. “I see you’re still playing house.”

The man by his side glanced between them, confused.

Her red lips hitched a lopsided little smile, falsely thick lashes lowering.

“Curfew? I see age is catching up to you,” she hummed, arching a look that briefly caught his pale stare. She was doing her own sizing, blatantly taking in new and old. Somehow, he seemed bigger, more looming.

The lady was hardly one to back down, however.

“My apologies.”

A sudden offer to his befuddled escort, her hand extending. “Barbara Mayfield.”

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Roy watched the still-familiar twitch of her mouth. Funny that she hadn’t changed her token red lips that were growing out of popularity in women’s fashion.

He could have said something about biology catching up to her, but he bit his tongue. Instead opted for watching his new lover meet old.

“Eddie Castillo,” his partner shrugged, taking her petite hand and cradling the glasses in the other. He looked to Roy helplessly.

“Barb here used to work at LAPD,” Roy clarified, tone flat. “Though few put a face to that voice.”

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Without You

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Roy’s own realization came a bit more slowly. His partner pointed out that he was pretty sure he spotted the artist, whose sins were hanging up all over the gallery, and Roy’s steely gaze followed.

His grip tightened on his glass as he caught sight of her.

Lips forming a thin line, his brow knitted. Something uncomfortable formed in his chest as he tore his eyes from his old flame, who looked to be making a beeline for the bar.

“Think we stayed long enough,” Roy said, with a nudge to the smaller man.

Dom Perignon brimming, Barb rounded just in time to see him making for an exit. In the past, it would have been welcome - even now, a part of her felt relief at the view of his slowly retreating back.

So why her chic heels were carrying her, with far more success, forward, would certainly be something to consider later.

Or not, perhaps.

“Leaving?”

Her tongue felt thick, a dainty hand having the gall to find his vivid arm, however brief. There was passing note of the man accompanying him, almost fleetingly rude.

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Eduardo had taken both of their glasses, ready to return them to the bar when the tiny woman (enhanced by heels, naturally) practically waltzed right up to them, a petite hand placed.

Roy paused, walking stick thumping again, and shamelessly seizing her up. His expression may have been unreadable as he looked down at her.

“Past my bed time,” he quipped. “I see you’re still playing house.”

The man by his side glanced between them, confused.

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Without You

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On a Friday night, Roy had better things to do… namely sipping expensive Scotch from his front-row seat of the Pacific.

But that wasn’t the case, as his broad-shouldered, bright-suited form moved about the gallery with a slight limp, good leg favored.

But hey, at least the booze was free.

His clothes said he had money, and his custom-made cane supported that fact, but it was also a sign to stay out of his fuckin’ way. Even those who didn’t know him (few and far between, really) parted a space when he walked past.

Another man, much slighter, was following him around like a puppy. Pausing whenever he paused, fetching drinks whenever he wished. While Roy didn’t need the company, he also couldn’t deny its convenience.

Roy came to a halt, walking stick thumping against the tiled floor as his palm rested upon its decorative hilt. His other hand lazily cradled his wine glass, half-full by now. Roy’s head tilted, smirk forming as he ‘admired’ one of the flamboyant art pieces on display for the evening’s main event.

“Hey Eduardo,” he chuckled. “Get a load of this.”

His partner came to stand beside him, raising a dark eyebrow above his thick wayfarers. “Roy, I’ve told you a million times not to call me that.”

Roy only continued to smirk.

He was hard to miss, although it did take a moment for the realization to catch up. Not quite breath taking, but her heart did take a leap, focus stumbling between polite conversation and his profile.

History hardly forgotten but here, now, it swelled and crashed like a wave. It’d been some time since Barb beheld the retired Chief of Vice. Longer still since there’d been anything fond between them. The last instance she could remember seeing the man, they’d both made an effort to acknowledge anything but the other.

She’d still had a ring on her finger then.

Alan, not without his own recognition, spared his diminutive ex-wife the easing warmth of a hand at the small of her back. Something to bring her perfectly lined eyes away and up, his concern silent. As it had always been with Roy Earle, she was conflicted, and it was no leap to say that similar blue stare read it.

“I’m going to go refill my drink,” she excused suddenly.

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Roy’s own realization came a bit more slowly. His partner pointed out that he was pretty sure he spotted the artist, whose sins were hanging up all over the gallery, and Roy’s steely gaze followed.

His grip tightened on his glass as he caught sight of her.

Lips forming a thin line, his brow knitted. Something uncomfortable formed in his chest as he tore his eyes from his old flame, who looked to be making a beeline for the bar.

“Think we stayed long enough,” Roy said, with a nudge to the smaller man.

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Without You

The elite of Los Angeles were in their element tonight. It was the opening of an exhibition; the sort of new rage pop art that Barb, personally, didn’t consider much to look at. Her company had been pleaded, though. A last minute effort on the part of her ex-husband, who curated the high brow Hollywood gallery.

He never did like going stag.

“Alan,” she tsked in a moment free of hobnobbing. The broad shouldered blonde’s tie was askew, prompting the hand off of her flute of champagne to bring up those manicured fingers, tidying the plain black silk. A familiar gesture, one that could have raised an awkward discomfort for a pair barely a year into their divorce. It didn’t. The only thing that passed between them was a smile before her touch smoothed away, drink retrieved.

The former Mrs. Alden turned, draping cream bead and lace swaying with the slight movement. There were black gemstones at her throat, matching teardrops on her ears, and a mostly convincing interest in that cat swept gaze. Although the slight woman kept up with the style of the day, brunette hair modestly volumed and ponytailed, there was a classic touch to her bearing - moreso than the red lip she favored over the more fashionable nude.

Taking a sip of bubbly, she followed Alan in greeting the couple that came to praise, attention briefly flickering to the newcomer crowd that continued to fill the brightly lit space.

The night was still young.

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On a Friday night, Roy had better things to do... namely sipping expensive Scotch from his front-row seat of the Pacific.

But that wasn’t the case, as his broad-shouldered, bright-suited form moved about the gallery with a slight limp, good leg favored.

But hey, at least the booze was free.

His clothes said he had money, and his custom-made cane supported that fact, but it was also a sign to stay out of his fuckin’ way. Even those who didn’t know him (few and far between, really) parted a space when he walked past.

Another man, much slighter, was following him around like a puppy. Pausing whenever he paused, fetching drinks whenever he wished. While Roy didn’t need the company, he also couldn’t deny its convenience.

Roy came to a halt, walking stick thumping against the tiled floor as his palm rested upon its decorative hilt. His other hand lazily cradled his wine glass, half-full by now. Roy’s head tilted, smirk forming as he ‘admired’ one of the flamboyant art pieces on display for the evening’s main event.

“Hey Eduardo,” he chuckled. “Get a load of this.”

His partner came to stand beside him, raising a dark eyebrow above his thick wayfarers. “Roy, I’ve told you a million times not to call me that.”

Roy only continued to smirk.

[policiiaco-blog]

// i’m not going to lie i’m resisting the urge to make a cole phelps blog too

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// i might or might not have made a cole phelps blog

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Panic Switch

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Roy wasn’t altogether talented at these things, but he at least knew a woman in distress, saw it far too often in his line of work.

It scared him that for once, he didn’t feel like someone deserved it.

“Hey,” Roy tipped her chin once she’d pulled away, her petite hand grazing five o’clock shadow. Several phrases passed through his mind as he gazed into the watery depths of those doe-eyes. ‘It’ll be ok,’ ‘I’m here,’ and other empty comforts that simply weren’t his style.

Instead, he said: “should lay down.” Muscled arms scooping low to lock beneath arms and under knees, lifting that little lady effortlessly.

Barbara preferred his honesty to hollow consolations, always had.

Bare feet swept from the floor with ease, she curled into him, fingers grasping, even as Roy laid her down. The mattress beneath her was unbelievably soft, a luxury the woman wasn’t nearly so unaccustomed to these days.

“I’ll be okay,” she said, coral nails digging. “I know… I’m just a little shaken up.”

An understatement, but he wasn’t wrong to have faith in her ability to survive. Having someone to lean on certainly helped, however.

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He expected her to lie down, but the battered woman clung even as he settled beside her. Kind of like a koala.

Nails pressing into him, Roy held her, though a bit more loosely.

“Damn right you will be,” he reassured in his own way. “No one’ll hurt you again. You understand?”

A gentle shake for emphasis, unable to see her features as she was burrowed against his shoulder.

[irlcute]

*gets shot in the leg* “are you ok?” “i’m fine just tired haha”

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continued from HERE / @moviestarcop

His head was pounding as blurred images began to came into view, and Stefan was starting to realize the gravity of the situation. He tried his best to remember what his last memories were before waking up in what seemed to be a cramped closet with Roy Earle. He jerked to move away from the other when a further complication made itself known - he was handcuffed to the other man. 

“Hold on, hold on. How is this my fault again?” he said as he basically remained in his current position, slumped on the floor. His legs clearly encroached on Roy’s space. “I mean, I know this is a bother, but I don’t know how I’m to blame for this…” he complained, trying to remember how they got into this mess. Stefan made his usual threats when putting the squeeze, wanting to shoot someone, when suddenly a large fist met his face, and he was apprehended.

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Roy’s head was throbbing too, but not as much as his blood was boiling. How they’d both got knocked out, he had no clue. All he knew was that he wanted to get out of this mess, and quick.

“For starters, need I remind you that you’re interfering with what’s clearly a vice case?” Roy said, positively seething. “Secondly, for being a shitheel and pullin’ your peashooter on a bunch of guys who are probably hallucinating.”

It occurred to him in that moment that there was blood dripping into his eye, from where he’d been knocked cold. He couldn’t even raise an arm to wipe it away with his sleeve.

“You’re in over your goddamn head, Bekowsky. Next time, leave it to the real cops.”