Touches Ask Game:
Hand Holding: 29. Holding hands while running through the rain.
Virgil/Kayo
Again, I’m blaming the migraine. No running, and her hand was on his arm, but there was plenty of rain.
Warnings: Virgil/Kayo...kinda. Definitely a random AU.
-o-o-o-
Virgil straightened his fedora as rain dripped off its brim.
Each drop sparkled as it fell, light drawn from the street lamps flickering yellow and white, before fragmenting on the pavement to join the fractured reflections on the stonework.
The only warmth was the cigarette on his lips, the faint trail of smoke stolen by the rain as it ventured beyond the rim of his hat.
The cold of the night was a determined thing.
His overcoat kept the rain off his suit, its expensive material nothing to the family’s bank balance, but waste was something he would not tolerate.
The street was a busy one in the depths of New York. He would have brought an umbrella, but his sailor of a brother had rankled him with his prediction of a storm and his own streak of rebellion had seen him determined to leave without one.
At least he had his hat.
Why he was out here in the downpour was simply because a woman had asked him to be here.
Scott would have laughed at him.
But her olive green eyes over a glass of sparkling wine, her lips speaking encouraging words about his art as it hung on the walls around them...she claimed to be the daughter of a close friend of their father’s. Anything to do with their father was to be valued. The mystery surrounding the man who had done so good yet died so young in such mysterious circumstances...
Scott would not have laughed at that. Scott would be standing right beside him in the rain.
So Virgil hadn’t told him, and had come alone, as asked, to meet Miss Kyrano.
He sucked in another breath of relaxing smoke and let it go, watching it dance amongst the raindrops.
She was late.
Scott would have been bouncing on his heels, muttering frustrated words laced with hope for finding out more about their father. Virgil couldn’t help but think that his eldest brother held hope that Jeff Tracy was alive.
Virgil was more a realist. Or perhaps he was just scared of sparking his own hope. The grief was still raw even after all the years that had passed. And he couldn’t bare to...
Another drag of cigarette.
If she was going to take much longer, he would have to roll another.
A car suddenly emerged from the stream of vehicles and pulled up in the gutter not far from him. An expensive model, not one he would recommend due to an inherent fault in its braking system, but decent nonetheless.
The slim legs that emerged from the passenger door were bared to the lace of their nylons for just a moment before a long skirt fell into place. Miss Kyrano stepped out of the car into the rain, her hair piled up into an elaborate bun under an elegantly tilted hat.
His eyes couldn’t help but trace her slim neck to her collarbone and to the suggestion of what lay beneath.
He shook off his improper thoughts and hurried over to assist her onto the sidewalk. “Miss Kyrano.” And again he wished he had brought an umbrella.
“Mr Tracy, thank you for coming.”
Her lips were coated in the perfect shade of red and ever so full as they smiled up at him, her eyes reflecting the lamp light as much as the rain.
“Shall we go inside?” Her perfectly arched eyebrow questioned him.
“Oh.” His distraction was inexcusable. “Of course.” He offered her his arm and was most gratified when she took it.
The apartment building he had been standing in front of was far from well-to-do and the neighbourhood along with it. Again he was faced with what Scott would have thought of his presence out here.
Scott was far too protective and worrisome for his own health. It wasn’t enough to be the head of a multi-million dollar industrial empire, he also had to worry about his four brothers. While Gordon was the bane of both their worry warts, Alan just realising the trouble he could get into and John willing to do whatever he wanted to do, Virgil liked to think that he himself was of the least concern of all of them.
Except for now.
There was something about this woman, about this lure she dangled in front of him to draw him out here. She was mysterious and appeared to know so much more than she was letting on.
She was dangerous and he knew it.
But it only encouraged him further.
His own common sense dragged kicking and screaming behind him.
She had a key to the front door and he followed her in, glad to at last be out of the rain.
Her heels clicked on a surprising white marble floor as she shut the door behind them and turned on a yellowing light.
“Your father owns this building.”
Virgil blinked. “You mean my brother.”
She eyed him up and down. “No, I mean your father.” She smiled at him.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Her scoff was dainty but far from ladylike as she turned and strode ever so catlike over to the empty reception desk and disappeared behind it.
Her skirt was tight in all the right places and ever so distracting. He shifted where he stood and straightened, mentally kicking himself. “Miss Kyrano, I would appreciate an explanation as to why you brought me here.”
“Oh, I didn’t bring you here. You came all by yourself.” She rose up behind the desk and the gun in her hand glinted as she pointed it at him. “Such an easy catch. I’m surprised. Jeff said you would be the hardest to fool, despite being the weakest point.”
Virgil stiffened. “What do you want?”
Her perfect red lips smiled at him. “You.”
-o-o-o-
