GIRL / GUN ♡

scarlett fairchild. twenty-eight, detective barbie — girls like her were born in a storm. they have lightning in their souls, thunder in their hearts, and chaos in their bones.

[scarlettfairchild]

EMMA.

Agitation and anxiety had Emma’s body frozen, rigid in the set of her shoulders and the clench of her jaw; the only movement came from her hands, perched upwards as she toyed nervously with the locket at the end of her necklace — a gift from Kit. Luckily the maniacs from N.E.T hadn’t taken that from her in their heist. She was alone in the party, the former colleague who had invited her as a plus one schmoozing in other areas that were foreign to the brunette. Although she had integrated back into high society rather nicely, the familiarity of a house party was a pool she hadn’t yet dipped her toe back into. And for good reason. Alcohol was fine to her, a stimulus she could handle, but after walking in on a girl doing a line in the bathroom, Emma’s hard work seemingly went out the window with the autumn breeze. She managed to find a seat to retreat to in a calmer area of the social setting, but she was still alone — until pressure settled down on a seat near her. A scapegoat. Breathing a sigh of relief, Emma spoke, almost pleading; “Can you talk to me? About anything. Anything at all.”

The party was something Scarlett was used to, yet not used to at the same time. Her work colleagues had extended the invite to her – and who was she to say no when her partner said something along the lines of, aw, come on Fairchild, you’re not scared of a little house party are you? So, naturally, she was at the house party. She was used to parties, she grew up attending them, just not this kind of party in a natural sense. However, she was a social butterfly by nature, always had something to say, so it was easy for her to slide into conversation naturally. Didn’t mean she liked it at this current point, which she didn’t – she’d been attempting to ward off a guy whose name she’d already forgotten for a solid fifteen minutes now. Whatever happened to taking no for an answer? She smiled tightly at him when she spied her freedom, eyes widening. “Hey, I’m really sorry but my best friend’s over there I’ve been looking for her for hours. It was really nice talking to you, Jeff!” she called out, walking away, and the last thing she heard from him was my name’s James? Huffing, she fell down beside Emma and turned to her, brows immediately furrowing. “Anything? Well, I think I just offended some manchild’s ego by calling him the wrong name. Like, forgive me father for I have sinned – all he wanted to talk about was his car collection. I don’t give a fuck,” she groaned, head falling back for a second before she turned back to look at Emma. “You okay?”

[scarlettfairchild]

SASKIA.

Saskia sat on a park bench, slowly rocking Nora in her arms. A car alarm had gone off in the middle of the night, and the baby had been cranky ever since. And while a public park seemed like an odd place to try to make your child sleep, it was far quieter than their own neighborhood. “Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly,” she sang as Nora’s lashes fluttered shut. “If birds- oh shit,” Saskia groaned as her elbow made contact with a sippy cup and pushed it to the ground. She looked around frantically, both embarrassed by her word choice and hopeful that someone nearby could help her. “Excuse me,” Saskia called out to the person nearest her, “could you please pass me that cup? She’s almost asleep and I’m afraid to move,” she pleaded.

Ice-cream in the park wasn’t something that Scarlett got to treat herself to often, but after closing a case and winning a bet with Scott today, she felt she deserved it. It was when she had the ice-cream cup in one hand that she passed by the bench, the singing cut off abruptly by a cuss word. She couldn’t help but laugh, even though it probably was not the right time to laugh. "New rendition of the song?” Scarlett grinned, leaning down to grab the cup as it slid across the footpath, handing it back to her. “I’m not the best advocate for parenting skills and whatnot, considering I haven’t held a single baby since I was like, probably 18, but she looks so peaceful so I’ve gotta say you must be doing a helluva job,” she babbled on, eyes wide as she glanced down at the almost-sleeping baby. “Maybe aside from the swearing around a baby, but like, she’s not going to know now is she? Unless she’s an Einstein kid and can understand sentences at this age, which if in that case, damn you’re doing good teaching her.”

[scarlettfairchild]

JASON.

                  “––Just a seven?” Jason gasped, it hard to tell whether he was joking or dead serious, “Sweetheart, whether you’re stalkin’ me for my sweet cheeks or not, it’s a fuckin’ nine,” He was still irked by the way she’d been stuck to his heels for what was close to seven whole blocks, but she was funny; beautiful and funny, and that was the devastating duo when it came to Jason Cash, “The fuck is your job? Google mapping asses? The better question is: where can I sign up?”

She quirked a brow, a smirk forming on her lips as he defended his ass — literally. “Would you like me to give you an extra half point for pity? Seven and a half, tops. Get some jeans that really make the booty pop, you know, and then you can get your so-called deserved nine,” she grinned before it was soon wiped off her lips at the mention of the actual topic at hand. “Yeah, I work for Google, they’ve really cut budgets lately so instead of the fancy-ass cars they use to map the cities they use us, lowly regular people, now. None of this tech bullshit. I have cameras in my eyes to map the city. We’re always hiring,” she grinned before shaking her head. “I work for the NYPD.”

[scarlettfairchild]

CALLUM.

“I, for one, can’t wait to see that come up in court,” Callum teased, sloshing his drink around in his glass. “Even better if it’s that old geezer Farnsworth from the D.A.’s office. That might be the thing that finally give him a heart attack… How’s the investigation going? Any chance it might end up coming across my desk?” 

“Defend me, will you? Be my saviour!” she grinned cheekily, resting her chin in the palm of her hands before laughing slightly, her hands finding her own drink as she took a sip. Scarlett screwed up her nose at the mention of Farnsworth, shaking her head viciously. “He can choke, Do you remember when he tried to take my badge from me because he was certain I’d stole it because I ‘didn’t look like a cop?’. He didn’t look like he was alive, but you don’t see me reporting him as dead now, do you?” she babbled with a sigh. “Hm, it’s going. Might end up with you, the dead guy’s been linked to a lot of shady shit.”

[scarlettfairchild]

SCOTT.

attn ⇾ @scarlettfairchild.

“Do you think you might grow out of the crazy any time soon?”

A valid question, one aired from the captain’s assistant, who often ignored her work in favour of teasing both Scott and Scarlett when they were in these obnoxious moods. But the detective barely glanced at her to his side, gaze fixed ahead on his blonde colleague as he aired a non-committal noise. “Jury’s still out on that one.” Crossing his arms over his chest, the challenge was still set in every line of his stature; they’d been working together for so long, Scott knew exactly how to get under Scar’s skin, which was unfortunate for almost everyone. “But focusing on something more important: it looks like Fairchild’s afraid of a little bet. We still haven’t gotten a yes out of her and looks like we won’t.”

It was a normal day in the precinct, a normal conversation, a rivalry between two co-workers. Though anyone who was on the outside looking in would more than likely have a question mark plastered on their forehead at the conversation that was currently taking place, for it wasn’t exactly on the professional side, and more so the side of Scott and Scarlett having a penchant for riling each other up. Call it a talent, call it a hobby, call it what it was; amusing. “Scott hasn’t matured yet, so we might have to wait a few years for him to tone down the crazy scale. Unfortunate, really. He could be doing so much with his life,” she replied, a sullen, yet completely sarcastic shake of her head. Her eyes narrowed in on Scott as he continued to speak, the smirk rising on her lips dirty and ready for battle. “I don’t just say yes to anyone and everyone, Barnes. Maybe I’m doing you a favour by not giving you an affirmative answer because we all just know who has more luck when it comes to these bets,” she trailed off, smirking as she mouthed ‘me’ whilst pointing at herself. “For the sake of my ego, I suppose I should say yes. Also, I like seeing you lose. It’s a fun thing.” She agreed, and could almost envision their captain rolling his eyes all the way from his office. It wouldn’t be a regular day without Scott and Scar riling each other up.

[scarlettfairchild]

RAFE.

+ Rafe is sat opposite Scarlett, unable to look anywhere else but match her unnerving gaze, but that doesn’t mean he has to listen to her. He goes in and out of the conversation, picking up on a few words here and there, whilst his mind distracts him with thoughts like: what qualifications does one need to design a chair, should he start his own chair line, or should he do it anonymously and surprise everyone on his death bed. But then, Scarlett’s emphasized word snaps him out of it, and luckily he caught the last few sentences to put together a decent response. “Can dead people even have tans?” 

Scarlett’s gaze narrowed in on Rafe as he spoke up, an amused smirk toying her lips. She was quick and perceptive; it was apart of her job to be able to pick up on people’s cues. And she knew he’d zoned out for a majority of her story, but that was something she was used to, luckily, knowing she had a tendency to ramble, and knowing people mostly didn’t give a shit. Not that she cared. “Like, maybe for the first few hours before their body completely shuts down they might retain some form of a tan if they’d had one before. But not the point Rafe,” she cut off, slamming her palms down on the table dramatically, unnecessarily. “The point is Captain I-hate-the-world doesn’t understand a joke—couldn’t understand a joke if it hit him in the face with a brick.”

[scarlettfairchild]

SOFIA.

                    “Your work habits?” She repeated and quirked a curious brow, leaning her elbows on the table to move a little closer so she wouldn’t miss a thing. She wasn’t one for gossip, but hearing about a detective’s life was interesting by default.

Laughter erupted next, bubbling up from her chest as she listened to Scarlett explain the interaction with her boss, in what seemed like an unnecessary conversation. She couldn’t imagine anyone smart enough to make detective would ever actually write something like that in a report after all, but joking about it seemed plausible— and innocent in her opinion. 

“Wow, he really does sound like he had an electric rod shoved up his ass,” She commented, laughter tagged onto the end of the sentence while mirth treaded her features. “Any chance he’s due for retirement anytime soon?”

Sofia’s laughter was infectious, and Scarlett found herself laughing alongside the girl. It was all she’d wanted out of the conversation, really. She was aware her job wasn’t one of the easiest, and if she could take a load off and relax, smile and have a quick laugh about things then it made things easier. Made it easier to venture into the department each day.

“God, I wish,” she groaned dramatically, falling back into her chair with closed eyes and a shake of her head. She was joking, of course; she respected her captain, he was a bright man with a ton of experience, but Scarlett was Scarlett and she was a bright soul with a mind full of anecdotes that just didn’t quite flow with his lingo. “He’s only in his fifties. Maybe sixties, so I doubt he’ll be leaving us anytime soon. Not that it’s a bother, like, he’s obviously really good at what he does, but like– would it kill him to smile? I’m convinced that’s why he doesn’t smile or laugh. It’s like some with cursed him, saying if he ever cracks a smile or laughs he’ll disintegrate on the spot. Like, poof, gone.”

[scarlettfairchild]

HUNTER.

“An electric rod,” was the only thing Hunter repeated. “So–” he paused, mulling over his next words before speaking them out loud, “it’s making you spicy then?” Not particularly thrilled with his word choice, it was what it was now and he couldn’t change it. He was always a little on edge talking a cop, especially considering his actual job, but he hadn’t been caught yet so he wasn’t overly cautious. “clearly he needs to lighten up, clearly tans are serious business.” The sarcasm was there, but hell, he might as well play into it. 

“Mhm. An electric rod at its full capacity of electrical currents,” she repeated, knowing her terminology probably was not correct, but it sounded smart so she was rolling with it. “It is making me spicy, yes,” she replied, taking his word in stride and going along with it. “I’m spicy about the fact that he’s not spicy enough for my tastes. He’s a bit bland, and we don’t like blandness in the life of one Scarlett Fairchild. We need a little bit of zest to survive, you see?” she drawled, narrowing her eyes mostly at herself for speaking in the third person, but shrugging nevertheless as she eyed her companion. “They are serious business. Not that I can blame the victim and all, ‘cause you know, they’re not on the breathing side of life. But still,” she spoke, knowing full well the conversation had turned into the deep waters of sarcasm, but she was all for entertaining herself when it came to these kinds of things.

[scarlettfairchild]

JUNE.

“Your captain sounds like a bore. Doesn’t he have a sense of humour at all?” June asked and laughed, the sound rising from the back of her throat and bubbling into the air when she listened to Scarlett explain the kind of adjectives and sentences she had used to describe a dead body. Maybe she was morbid for laughing and finding humour in it, but she figured that in professions as dark as Scarlett’s, being able to laugh was a vital part — A way to cope with so much… Death. “For what its worth though, I think it’s a pretty accurate description. No one would be even a little bit unsure about how that guy looked, right? Maybe it’s not official police report lingo, but it should be.” It probably shouldn’t be, but June was just joking, hopefully able to take the sting off of whatever reprimand Scarlett’s boss had served her. 

“Nope! Once I googled what the most boring town in America was and asked if he was born there and he didn’t understand that I was trying to diss him so I gave up,” she shrugged with a smile that soon morphed into laughter, unable to help herself as she listened to June’s own laughter echo throughout the room. “I mean, duh,” she responded, grinning at June and leaning in. Of course, she knew it wasn’t the correct way to describe someone, but on the spot, it was what came to mind – and it reminded her of the actual proper way the describe them body later in a police report so it was a win-win. She had a method to her madness. “My next line of duty will be getting it implemented into everyday police lingo. It’s the 21st century, I think it’s about time we widened our professional vocabulary on what we can put in reports.” She was mostly joking, for she knew that would never be a thing obviously, but a small part of her thought, huh, imagine if I could use that one day. “Maybe I’ll let it sit for a week. If I brought that up to Captain has-no-life now he’d probably suspend me for a week.” She was all of joking-nature, knowing she had to have some form of a bright sense of humour to keep her mind at bay for all the disturbing things she saw daily. It was her way of keeping sane.

[scarlettfairchild]

CECILIA.

“Well, I mean, I obviously agree with him, you can’t put that in a police report, but if he thought you were serious about it, he’s dumber than I thought — Why would he think any detective would write that? Doesn’t he have any sense of humour at all?” She asked, finding the description Scarlett had referenced one that was both witty, but actually also very telling. “But FYI, I don’t need to know what dead bodies look like. Less shop talk from you when it’s about gross looking dead bodies,” she jested and laughed lightly, her lips pressed into a slight curve, the laughter mostly present in her eyes.

"I think he’s at the point where he’s mostly unsure of the shit I say, so he just takes everything I say in literal terms. Which is his first mistake because, hello, should anyone in their right mind take anything I say seriously? No, of course not,” she babbled with a wave of her hand, a grin on her lips. “But to answer your question, no he has no sense of humour. I asked him once when the last time he laughed was and he said 1993,” she cut off, pausing for dramatic effect. “1993! Who in the hell is this guy...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Dead bodies are gross, that’s all you need to know. Next topic. How’s your life, what’s the goss— please feed me with information about the real world that has nothing to do with legalities. Have you done anything illegal lately? I’m off duty I promise I can’t bust you,” she grinned, leaning forward on the table to rest her elbows down, her chin falling into her hands as she eyed Cecilia. 

[scarlettfairchild]

ROWAN.

               Adorned in a gray knitted cardigan that was double the size of her lithe frame, a soft melodic hum to some song about jackie chan that currently infiltrated nearly every radio station flitted into the brisk mid September air like a music box. A nimble hand glided against one of the benches with a paint roller, staining the wood a mahogany brown. The two benches in front of the flower shop were in dire need of a paint job - the original wood hidden behind graffiti, and a horrid white paint job. The corner of her eye caught wind of a figure sitting down on the opposite bench she was currently working on, one that she had just finished painting. “Oh.” The syllable ushered out of her lips, barely audible as her eyes widened to match the word. She pressed her fingers to her lips, unsure of what to do before taking a step towards her newest company, “– maybe um, not the best choice to have a seat there…” She murmured, her nose crinkling as she pursed her lips, waving the brush in her hand, “I’m - sorry. I should have put a sign up, or something.”

"Oh, shit—” Scarlett cursed, loudly, into the wind as she felt the sticky paint on her pants. Her eyes widened as she turned to the voice who had warned her just before she sat, with her mouth gaped open slightly – she wasn’t mad at anyone, really, more in shock. But then, a slow rising smile crept on her lips when she realised what she was wearing. “You know,” she began, peeling herself off the bench and turning around to assess the damaged with a grin. “Usually I’d be like, really mad that I’d ruined my clothes because I cherish my clothes you know? Sure, a dry cleaner could probably get paint out, but like whatever. However, girl, these are my work pants,” she grinned. Her work pants were a monstrosity to the world of fashion and her own comfort. She loved being a detective, that was no lie, but the uniform was something she wasn’t the greatest of fans of. “I have a pair of normal pants back at the office, which means I can put them on and be free for the rest of the day. Oh, hmm but– I can already see my captain now asking if I purposely did this. ‘cause that’s also a very me thing to do,” she trailed off with a frown before shaking her head, focusing on the girl. “Not important, rambling, sorry I do that a lot. Just painting the benches, are you? They look awesome. Or, well, did before I sat my ass on your hard work.”

[scarlettfairchild]

EMMA.

Listening to her best friend complain could be considered a hobby for Emma, but not one she actually enjoyed or did out of her free will. It was just how friendship was — from the moment they were sat together in class as bumbling six year olds, Scarlett was forever the pessimism to the brunette’s former optimism. Concentration was evident in the woman’s face, letting the others words form a vivid picture from what she knew of the police captain that domineered over her detective and officer friends alike. “You know…” She started, with a pause for breath; air was suspended for a moment as she countered where to go with this, before deciding. “Have you considered taking up comedy as a side job? Get a bit of balance in your life, or whatever.”

As Emma spoke up, Scarlett leaned over to take another sip of her iced coffee, eyes zoning in on her best friend as she talked. She quirked a single, perfectly sculpted brow at the words, placing her coffee down and linking her hands together. A look of contemplation crossed her features for all of a second before she tilted her chin upwards, laughter dripping from her lips. “Please don’t say that around my mother. You know how badly she wanted me to become a damned actress — a comedian is close enough to that genre to satisfy her. Do not put that idea in her mind. No matter how comedic I am, I just can’t help it you know,” she spoke airily, her tone laced with the sarcasm she was so attuned to. She wasn’t that cocky, alright? But, she knew she had a knack for drawing laughter from other people’s lips at times. Even if it were in a morbid way. “’least I have a backup career if I like, get seriously injured on the job. Can you imagine me gracing a stage in a wheelchair and starting with the line ‘so you’re probably wondering how I ended up here, huh? Well in my previous life...’” she trailed off, grinning before shaking her head. “That was probably insensitive.”

[scarlettfairchild]

“ —– So my captain is getting a little concerned with my work habits,” Scarlett began, eyes boring into the person before her. Casually dressed with a smirk on her lips, it was her usual ammo for a day on the job. Her captain complaining — which Scarlett liked to call morbidly suggesting — that she wasn’t doing things correctly was a day-to-day basis thing as well. She knew she was good at what she did, he could shove it. “According to Captain I-Have-An-Electric-Rod-Shoved-Up-My-Ass, telling someone a dead body looks ‘gross and like it hasn’t been to the Bahamas in a few thousand years’ is not an accurate description to put on a police report. Like dude, I’m aware I can’t actually put that on a police report, but live a little maybe? Take a joke, damn,” she breathed out, a roll of her eyes at the thought of her repressed captain. “I was just speaking the truth, making an idle comment; my eyes don’t deceive. I know a good tan when I see one, and that honey did not have it.” For the most part, she was joking, but she knew what it looked like to the outside eye — not that she minded, she thought with a carefully crafted smirk and tilt of her head. 

[scarlettfairchild]

HELENA.

         “I told you I knew how to fix a flat tire.” Helena chuckled as she wiped away the dirt from her hands. “You know it should be required before they give you a licenses to drive. Know where the oil is at, what’s under the hood, how to change out the flat to a donut, the fun stuff.” She leaned over to grab her iced coffee and took a drink, “But back onto the subject, what were you saying?” 

"You’re a woman of many talents. The woman of my dreams even?” Scarlett grinned as she leaned over the bonnet, watching as Helena stood up and took a sip of her drink. “The fun stuff. You and I have very different ideas of fun, girly,” she smirked, cocking her head to the side. She perked up at the mention of before and grinned. “Just asking about the gallery and wanting to know if you had any pieces for sale. I’m going through a phase where I hate my entire apartment and want to redesign it. Feng shui and all, bringing those good vibes in— or, whatever. Anyway–” she waved her hand mid-sentence before grinning, full steam ahead again, “got anything on offer I can come to take a peek at?”

[scarlettfairchild]

OLIVIA.

                     “Sorry, but uh… did you see a set of keys anywhere around here by any chance?” Olivia asked, teeth clamping down onto her bottom lip in a lock, equivalent to crossing her fingers for luck, as if it might affect the answer to her question. While she was an optimist by heart, there was no way of knowing where her keys had gone — she couldn’t pinpoint the moment where she lost them, not even close. “My bag,” she said and held it up, small, soft, tan leather with a stretch of stitching that had come undone at the bottom. “There was a hole in it that I didn’t see, but uh… my keys did and made a run for it. Can’t get home now,” she added and pointed toward her car.

"Don’t bite your lip you’ll draw blood and make them all dry and nasty,” Scarlett said, that being the first thing that sprung to mind after the question was posed to her. She smiled nevertheless, a fond kind of one as she cocked her head taking in Olivia’s appearance. “I’m sure they’re here somewhere. I personally haven’t seen them, but they couldn’t have gone far right? Retrace your steps and all...” she trailed off, pursed lips as she gazed around their surroundings for the slightest glimmer of keys sparking in the wind. She quickly shot her gaze back to Olivia with a mild frown and shrugged. “I mean, I can take you home worst case scenario. My good deed for the day. Lord knows I need all the good deeds I can take.”

[scarlettfairchild]

MASON.

                    He had his rod leaned up against an elm tree, the boy sat on a bench just before the beach of the lake began and fed into the murky water. He’d figured he’d needed a new hobby. He just didn’t think he’d be resorting back to fishing, but the promise of some decent-sized bass in the ‘Haverford pond’ not to mention the deal he was cut, he couldn’t refuse. It was one Hell of a nice day, enough to lure him into running around the park’s track a few times before fetching his gear, slipping off his sticky t-shirt and grabbing his bait from the front seat of his truck. He got up from the bench then, eyes trained on the nightcrawler he had picked up, still worming between his fingers as he grabbed his rod and steadied the hook, a shadow finding his peripheral, causing him to look up, suddenly feeling cautious, “… You aren’t here to slap me on the wrist, or something, are you?” He began, shrugging a should, a crooked smile on his lips, “–I checked with the park before. Promise. I’ll just be castin’ the line here.” He gestured towards the area, opposite to the park.

Scarlett couldn’t help but turn her nose up at the sudden intrusion of leaves crawling between her sandals. It was no secret the blonde was much more attuned to the bright and lively city-scene, and not that of nature. However, whatever she had to do in the name of her job she’d go ahead with — even if that meant crawling through a pond area for clues. She’d lost her captain minutes before, and if it was on purpose so what? The man was bland and was talking far too much about fishing and Scarlett was far from interested. The voice was a surprise as she hadn’t seen a whole load of people lurking around, and his words fueled her fire. A troublemaker, she was at times, despite her title of authority. She cast a smirk on her lips, pulling out her badge and flashing it to him. “Afraid so. Trespassing I believe? This is sacred grounds didn’t you know? Wouldn’t want to have to fine you for demonising the spirits...” she trailed off with pursed lips, her act holding for all of two seconds before she rolled her eyes and put her badge away. “Obviously joking. I’ve never been to this pond before in my life. Kinda gross here. What are you doing? she questioned the obvious, peeking over to where he had the fishing line set.

[scarlettfairchild]

JASON.

                      “––Alright,” The word was spat out in a mutter, gruff and defensive beneath his breath. A looming pair of footsteps had been following him for some time now, winding and meandering through Westbrook’s side streets on his tail for a reason that, to him at least, had to be sinister. A deep drag of his smoke, a pivot in his footing, and he was turning to ‘stalker’, “Fuckin’ enough already.” Paranoia was a dear old friend to Jason Cash; the devil on his back, if you will. It was what you got when you dabbled in the felonious–– even worse when you lived it, breathed it, and drank it, too, “I know my ass is nice on the eyes, real nice, but it ain’t nice enough to be stalkin’ for ten blocks. So? The fuck you want?”

At the sudden and unexpected outburst, Scarlett happened to remain cool as a cucumber. Being a detective had taught her over the years to not show any form of emotion in situations like so. She’d been innocently wandering the streets— or, well, not so innocently, as she was retracing steps from earlier in the day in the hopes of gathering information on her latest case. So the outburst was a mild shock. At his words, her eyes immediately dropped to said ass and tilted her head to the side. “I’ve seen better asses, you’re not too bad though. I’d give it a solid 7/10?” she spoke, turning her gaze back up to the male. “I’m not stalking you, calm down. I’m doing my job. Nothing to do with you, princess. Carry on with your... whatever you were doing and stress less, c’mon man.” she spoke airly, with a nonchalant wave of her hand and a soft smirk on her lips.