TULSA, OKLAHOMA. 2:14 PM.
❛ &. ┊ Under any other circumstances would this be easy. A bright spring day, a fantastically complicated case -- and an agent willing to shed some light on a particularly curious death that a psychic had stumbled upon. But the circumstances she is forced to accommodate are dire. Phillipa’s features emerge from the masses of passerby that walk past the tables of a lovingly furnished coffee shop and look exactly the same way as they’ve done when she’s last seen her; auburn hair still framing her face like a terrible mess that wouldn’t even stay put in the presence of a particularly strong hair tie, eyes with an undeniable depth that see right through an immaculate facade. Monochromatic, she remembers. It’s not the coffee shop they met at, not even one they frequently visited when life was... a shared story, not two independent investigators critically eyeing the shadow-y remains of what once used to be, assumably, an unsuspecting person. She’s the one that leaves in so many other storylines. Almost came as a surprised when she wasn’t, not in this one. But by the looks of it, there’s no possibility of ignoring the reality of having a broken heart -- and trying to mend it in any way permissible.
“ Didn’t think you’d show up. ” A meagre grin and it’s a fraudulent one at that. Both know she’d prefer anything other to a forcibly curled grin, but feels like it’s her responsibility to offer one regardless. She really thought this could work out -- for a few years, maybe half a dozen. Not eternity, surely. It never lasted that long. And had she also believed that she would have enough time -- to prepare, to ready herself, before things got complicated. Definitely wouldn’t have thought that it would last a couple weeks longer than half a year, a new low if one took it as such. She did. Still can’t wrap her finger around what exactly had gone wrong before they split. If it had been her, if it had been Phillipa. If it just hadn’t meant to be. So is it fortunate that mind can find shelter from intrusive thinking in the near empty files of a particularly bewildering case. It helps. Perhaps enough to make this any less unbearable.
❛ &. ┊ Frame gets up to greet the woman that used to be a lover, no longer is -- but realises mid-motion that she no longer knows what the appropriate way of greeting each other would be. An outstretched hand feels foreign and, yet, is it in the end what she opts for. A cool touch, a flickering memory of what used to be a few months back, but composure is kept -- even if the frown by far outweighs the forced attempt in appearing well-disposed. “ You said you’d need me. ” A pause. “ Well, here I am. ” / / @psychicfck. plotted.
