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@villainpowers
Independent, private and highly selective INVISIGAL / COURTNEY from DISPATCH. Written by Z (29 / f / CET). 20+ only.
A study in: self-destructiveness, vulnerability, the need for validation, earning trust, and choosing your own fate.
Read Rules before following/interacting.
Inbox Status: OPEN.
SYNERGY: @mecha-blue ♥ ★
MEMES. | PROFILE. | PROMO. | VERSES. ( old ver. ) | HEADCANONS. | INTERACTION CALL.
Eyes open with a lift of his eyebrows. Courtney. The girl that's never far from a romcom or a bucket of popcorn in his mind. The one that can talk for thirty minutes straight without even a break to check if her audience was captive. The one that likes Sour Patch Kids just like him.
A subtle nod shakes his head. It isn't hard to get pulled into the memory— or fantasy. Really depends on your perspective on everything. "It was nice." He whispers back, so quiet the hum inside the cockpit could threaten to drown it our were they not practically face to face.
Rob lowers his eyes again, brown glancing down her face beyond her lips now to their thighs both overlapping. Hard to believe that he thought that night was the start of something actually…good. Where he sits now it just feels painful. He longs for the feeling again, the emotion to bubble up. That warm elixir composed of anxious thrill, excitement, peace, and comfort. Knowing that there was something to look forward to. It's like the secret ingredients for Chemical X or something. Somehow all the right shades were blended together to provide him with Fool's Gold. Transient happiness. It was pretty much the oldest trick in the book and he fell for it.
There is just something about her. Something that eludes even his understanding now. She didn't give the chance to know more about it and maybe that's where it would stay. Like a wound that does not heal.
Something about Courtney. Something that he may never understand. Something that only she gave to him.
His gaze comes back to her mouth as she talks, speaking of a summer blockbusters. A long anticipated trilogy finally complete. Would have been nice to be part of that. Would have been nice to know for certain that either of them would see that movie now. Just like they had planned on that passing night together. Maybe that was the error. Letting that weird agreement slip. No it was more like a push. Robert had forgotten himself entirely in her company. Forgot what he was doing everything for, forgot what he was always fighting for. Just four words too and what he had already accepted as life had been forgotten. We should see it.
He doesn't say it this time but he embraces the kindness of the thought.
She looks away and he back down, like he should be ashamed about it. He is.
And that's why he looks back and focuses hard with her next words. Her small little quiet apology, breathed out on broken air. The pang is instant. The guilt.
He's quick to shake his head turning his neck upward to her, a hand with all the gentleness left in a weathered body, reaches for hers in kind. If only to ensure she hears him.
"No. No. You don't owe me anything, Courtney." Still sticking with the story from the locker room. Still feels like the only story that's right. He holds no grudges and certainly wasn't holding this against her. In every conceivable way really he can find the line and trace it all the way back to the real culprit. Robert Robertson.
All month in fact, Mandy and Chase would always find ways to try and tell him such kind lies. Nothing was more painful. It was like everyone was dancing around the elephant in the room. It drove him crazy sometimes.
After all, it was so much easier to find fault from within than to place it upon another. That was the last thing he could or would do. Not very Heroic for a Superhero to blame the ones they failed to help for not being helped.
Robert pauses, tightening his jaw, then: "Courtney… what happened to you with Elli— Shroud. That's not your fault. That was his." And Mecha Man's for not stopping him. "You saved my life."
Real heroic shit, just a shame everything fell apart in Robert's ungentle hands. There is no doubt for him that, even if it eludes him, there existed a better way. If only he tried harder. Maybe he was too blind to see it or just didn't want to. Because for a long time Shroud was really the only thing that kept him going. The idea of… making him suffer. Making him understand.
That was the ego. After so many years how on Earth had he not realized that nothing goes the way you want? No argument you build up in your head for an extended period of time, thinking of all the ways you'd topple another would ever play out like that.
Robert wants to say more, looks like he might but the words elude him or… he's simply too hesitant. His mouth opens and he searches her and the cabin for an answer that only he has the ability to know. "I…" Tired eyes catch the mask again, a void of eye sockets and a gaping maw. Displeased. Even rumpled up and scrunched as it was the defining long features along the jaw still held an impression.
It wasn't his. The mask, a message, was from the one before him. He just lives with it. "You were right about me." It comes out like his own form of apology.
His touch has her gaze dropping to his gloved hand as it rests on top of hers. So comforting and gentle.
It sparks the memory of what his bare hands felt like on her face and body while they kissed with passion and desperation and a little bit of tongue action. Every urge and desire his touch ignited in her. The taste of him in her mouth. And fuck, she’d give anything to go back to that exact moment and stay. Let him hold her. Touch her. Everywhere. She wants to know what he feels like on every inch of her skin.
Robert’s voice is urgent and reassuring, but also guilt-ridden. Courtney meets his eyes again, brows pinched, teeth tugging at her lip. If only she could believe his words as much as he seemed to believe them.
What happened to her? That’s a nice way to phrase it. Also wrong. Yes, it was Shroud’s fault. Yes, she saved Robert’s life and she would do it all over again to protect him. But no, it didn’t ‘happen.’ She did it. She made the conscious choice and killed Shroud. She got his blood on her hands. She did that. That’s not gonna go away. That’s gonna be with her forever. The past can’t be changed—she wishes. It’ll grow distant. It’ll become vague. Some details may even be completely forgotten. But the fact of the matter itself will stay the same. It’s a forever tattoo.
But she won’t argue with him right now. Not with the kicked puppy face he’s making at her and the way he’s struggling to say what he’s trying to say. Seeing Robert hurt—delicious as it may be on those rare occasions when she’d rather be more angry at the world than herself—is just not a sight she can stomach.
Her brows quirk in confusion. Searching his eyes doesn’t explain much either. Her fingers curl around his, squeezing. “Right about … what?” she asks, face drawing closer to his, until the tip of her nose brushes his own. “That you have depression? That you’re a narc? Or a little bitch?” It’s meant as a lighthearted comment to ease whatever nerves may be tense right now. She even smiles, just a little bit. “I said a lot of things about you, Robbie.”
Truth is most of what she said about him isn’t true. Well, except the depression part. That one’s too fucking real. He’s literally looking it right now. But other than that, Robert is … everything she aspires—aspired to be. He’s what you think of when you think of the word hero. And he embodies it so naturally without no superpowers to his name. Like he was born for it. It’s good that LA has its beloved Mecha Man back.
But most days Courtney misses Robert. Just Robert.
distracting your lover from a task by kissing their neck.
There is something nostalgic and heartwarming about walking into the bullpen and finding Robert hunched over his computer, leaning intently into the screen, fingers tapping away on the keyboard at an impressive speed. Hearing that focused voice of his as he tells whoever is on the line to shut the fuck up while he figures something out to help them. God, she misses him in her ear like that.
And as much as she’d love to stay and see how this whole thing unfolds, her rumbling stomach won’t let her.
Courtney makes her way to her busy boyfriend’s desk, stopping right behind his chair to peek at his screen, but she’s got no fucking clue what she’s looking at. Some weird schematics or whatever the fuck. “You almost done with that?”
Robert startles, smacking his knee hard against the desk and pressing a mess of keys in the process—which makes the screen flash red for a moment. “Nonono! Fuuuuuck!” His frustration couldn’t be louder. With an exhale, he turns to look at her. “…I am now.”
Courtney rolls her eyes. “Dude, I wasn’t even trying to sneak up on you.”
“Ugh, just—” he cuts himself off as a second, muffled voice shouts through his headset. Sounds like a really angry Flambae. “Yeah, hang on, I’m not flirti—Jesus Christ.”
“Hey, what the fuck? You just said you were done,” Courtney sighs. “We were supposed to go grab lunch like half an hour ago. I’m fucking starving.”
“Yeah—look, unfortunately this might actually be a while.”
“Are you saying that to me or to him?” Courtney asks, but Robert doesn’t answer. He’s already fixated on his screen again. Her head tosses back and arms fold against her chest. If he were looking at her he’d see the dissatisfaction written all over her face.
Well, if he’s gonna keep making her wait, might as well have lunch here.
Courtney holds her breath and vanishes. She leans over, pressing a kiss to his nape.
Robert shudders in response, but doesn’t look away from the screen, nor does he stop typing.
Ooookay. She can try harder.
Staying invisible, she plants more kisses, tracing a path down to the crook of his neck. She shoves the collar of his shirt to the side with her nose and bears a nice spot of his skin to continue peppering light, quiet kisses.
He jumps even harder than he did the first time. His hand reaches for the headset, fumbling with the buttons. Probably to mute his mic or Flambae or both. “Hey,” he warns. “What are you doing?”
But the only answer she gives him is a flick of her tongue against his skin, if only to be a menace—worse than she’s already being, that is.
Robert leans away and turns his chair around in her vague direction. He casts wary glances around them—the bullpen is mostly empty save for Galen still by the printer and like two other staff members standing by the leaderboard.
Courtney straightens, arms crossed as she reappears. “You ready for that lunch now or do you still need a minute?”
Robert sighs and shakes his head in a mix of disapproval and evident defeat. But she doesn’t miss the way his gaze falls to her mouth or the hunger that fills it when meeting her eyes. “Yeah, alright, I’m ready.” He pulls to his feet. “Hey, Galen!” he calls. “Sorry, could you please cover for me for a bit? I have … something to take care of.”
“No problem, dude.” Galen holds a thumbs-up for him. “I got it.”
Courtney wiggles her brows at him proudly and gestures for the elevator. “After you.”
@mecha-blue
villain route wrecks me every time man.
It is going to be an awkward ride back, even if it realistically won't be that long in the Mech. Even now the seconds stretch to what feels like hours as she seats herself back upon his lap. Easily, smoothly, confidently pressing herself down against him, that arm of hers sliding back around his shoulder. Once more with the quiet hiss of the cockpit chamber sealing shut. It was just them. It was Rob and Courtney. Just not the way he wants. Feels too much like Mecha Man and Invisibitch for his liking.
But just when he feels like he's reaching the end of comprehending this woman she always seems to surprise him with another flip of the coin.
Robert turns his head to her as she speaks, drawing his eyes away from the mask which dangling loosely between his fingers. It had taunts him with the temptation of just…slipping it back on and thinking of being anywhere but here. Now his eyes trail along her face as Courtney comes close, a lovely whisper of breath against his face with all the bite of sour to counter that sweet of the moment.
Rob should scoff, he thinks, at the sheer audacity she has to act like this after fucking what? Utterly tossing his feeling into the fucking wind? Attempt after every attempt tonight seems to end in blunder. How was it so easy before? When he could just play her games, trip her up, and enjoy the small fun of it. It was kinder. To at least play make believe.
The heat of 'intimate' brushes against his lips. Hard not to shoot a glance to hers and think about how dry his mouth feels. The tip of his tongue pokes out against his lips and he swallows and then… he falls in step, one last time.
Because if this was pointless. If this all was as he fears it is. Then the last thing he wants to at least have from her is what she gave before and not the memory of her coated in blood, looking so full of misery, with the symbol of his father's killer held in her hands. Like it was supposed to turn out that way.
A sigh. "You watch too much porn. Hard to keep it up under pressure all the time." His eyes roll and he tilts his head to an angle away from her. "But I don't think you're being fair. I feel like we at least reached PG-13. Especially at the start." And now that he thinks about it, honestly, he feels like an absolute idiot for it. The locker room was on his mind, well it had been for a month really; couldn't stop thinking about picking up where they left off and getting to actually convey to her what he meant without her cutting it short. Didn't happen then. Didn't happen now either, despite all the hardware already there for it. "Typecast 2 was the same rating and I didn't hear you complain about that being too dry."
Courtney’s cheeks flush a shade warmer. Her gaze drops somewhere distant with the flood of memories coming back to her.
He’s right, she didn’t complain about Typecast 2 for a number of reasons. One of them being she’s unironically a lover of cheesy rom-coms, but the second and most important reason is that she was distracted by Robert sitting next to her, looking so engrossed in the movie while they shared the bucket of popcorn. She couldn’t help herself from sneaking glances at him the entire fucking time, replaying that shot of him showing up out of nowhere in front of her, unannounced, with a load of snacks.
And that walk after may have been the highlight of the whole thing. Chatting about the movie. Finishing the last of the Sour Patch Kids. Walking extremely slowly, as if neither one of them wanted the night to end. She definitely didn’t.
When she came back home that night she threw herself on her bed and screamed into her pillow so hard, Laura came running into her room thinking someone was strangling her.
Laura… How is she doing? Part of her wants to ask Robert about her. If he knows anything. But that would imply she misses the life she ran away from. She does. She misses it so fucking much.
Courtney glances at the mask in his hand then, from the corner of her eye, his face. “That was, uh … a good night.” She smiles.
More than good. It was sweet. It was warm. She’d give anything to go back to it.
She and Robert even made plans that night—or well, vague plans, to go back there again, watch some other movies, with actual tickets for the both of them and all. She still plans on sneaking there every now and then. So maybe even though they won’t go there together, they’ll still run into each other sometimes. Assuming he won’t be too busy for movies now, with the whole going back to being Mecha Man thing.
“They’re making a third movie, you know?” she says. “Should be coming out next summer.”
There’s a tightness in her throat as she looks at the screen, at all the pretty views they’re zooming past. A sense of … dread and anxiety that sit heavy in the pit of her stomach. If only she could slow this ride too, the way she slowed her steps that night. If only she could drag this out. Make it last. Make it sweet and warm.
Her smile dissipates as slowly as reality drowns out the memories. Courtney’s teeth tug at her lip. If only she could have a touch of the hopefulness she did when they walked back to his car and said goodnight that day. When she disappeared, claiming she was going home, but stood there watching him for a few minutes as he strapped in then drove away.
The hopefulness that, even though the night was coming to an end, she was going to see him again the morning after.
Under her breath, because she knows she’ll choke if she goes above a whisper, she strains to say, “I’m sorry I fucked everything up.”
Fucked us up, is what she actually wants to say. But not saying it out loud means the possibility of them stays in her head. He can’t confirm or deny whether it is or isn’t a thing in his head, too. He can’t turn the broken pieces of her heart to dust. And honestly she’s not sure which truth would hurt more anyway. That they stood a chance at all, or that they never had one in the first place.
Robert's mouth is just about to move for another drag when she snaps it from him. He casts his eyes upward, watching her strengthen the smoldering tip with her own intake. Not even content to allow the peace of a final cigarette.
Man, she really fucking hates him.
Robert doesn't move but watches her extinguish the moment along with the flame. Couldn't seem to wait for it to be over really. A smirk quickly twitches the end of his lips with a weary shake of his head. "Yeah, well coulda been longer if you let me finish my cigarette." He shoots a glare but his own fire extinguishes quickly once again and he just stands up. "But honestly,"
He takes those two short steps to pass her and back towards the Mecha but stops next to her. His brow furrows, words catching in his throat. Which words? A jumble of nonsense probably. What was right and what was wrong to say now felt as unclear as ever. He had looked for her just about every day for a month now. He thinks about what Mandy would try to say but he finds it hard not to feel… rejected. Deserved as it is or not. The last bit of reservation he has burying the useless shit getting in the way of just wrapping this whole thing up was that really. That wants to see her again. To feel that connection to her again. Selfishly dumb or dumbly selfish. And still it remains, so instead of anything enlightening or even cool and mysterious he just has to go and quietly, genuinely ask her. "You would consider this a date?"
It Didn't fit anything close to a date in his own head. Didn't exactly match what she told him at the Sardine the first time either. He would have preferred that. Sunken eyes draw themselves away. He thinks about how unsatisfying that must be indeed to believe that anything close to this was something that could be called a date. This was more an emotional circle jerk of baggage. Yet, isn't it just as unsatisfying to be taken to something akin to a Hero's lair and be met with the saddest little screensaver image you've ever seen?
"I'm a bit disappointed too. Sometimes reality tends to do that. There is no story. Just me." And he means that. Across many things.
Then he continues onward back in silent stride toward the mech. The communicator on his wrist responds to approach without so much as a motion, the cabin returning to life to welcome back Mecha Man.
A hoist back up and into his saddle. He turns to the side while waiting for Courtney, spotting the mask she had removed on the trip over. For a minute there he thought she was looking for the same thing he was. He felt hopeful. It amazes him just how fast the world moves. Even with Courtney. He feels like there's a lifetime of history but he hasn't even known her a year yet.
The mech was also new but as well feels as though it has simply always been here. As much as things have changed. He can't help but feel like absolutely nothing at all has changed and the long awaited continuation of what ever sort of fall was happening before had come.
Robert swallows hard trying to get that last bit of dread and uncertainty down his throat before what would inevitably be a horribly torturous and awkward flight back to the Sardine.
From there— What? Just go home? Take her in? Call Mandy and tell her it's over, Courtney was a lost cause?
None of those were appealing conclusions to the night. Well, Courtney and him are of similar mind of one thing at least. This whole thing was as unsatisfying as knowing that he will never get to look Shroud in the eyes and make him understand how wrong he was.
But at least Robert takes comfort in knowing Shroud doesn't get to live to see how right he ended up being about some things.
He looks up from the mask as Courtney reaches up towards him for the cabin. The hull begins to close in behind her. Robert can't help but feel like this is a seven minutes in hell kind of situation.
“I mean, that’s what you said it was, isn’t it? A date?” Whether or not she’d count it as a date isn’t that relevant.
But yeah. Disappointing in any case.
She listens in silence, watching him from the corner of her eye.
No story. Just him, he says.
Okay then.
That’s not that bad.
Courtney stands still, taking one last look around her to snap a mental photo of the place. Of Robert. Inhaling the fresh air. Letting that cool breeze wash over her. The smell of damp dirt and old wood invade her nose. The chirping of cicadas and crashing waves fill her ears.
While Robert walks back to his suit to get it running for them again, Courtney takes out her combat knife. She kneels on the bench with one leg, and carves something on the wooden plank of the headrest.
R & C were here
Just a little something for him to remember her, next time he’s here. That’s assuming he’d even want to remember anything about tonight. Maybe he wants to forget about it completely. Maybe he doesn’t want her name tainting the one place he managed to find himself in.
Fuck. Shoulda thought of that first, huh?
Then she straightens and walks over to the mech, waits for him to strap in before she climbs up and joins him inside.
Part of her wonders if it would have been smarter to just go their separate ways. She can probably make it back on her own. Somehow. That would have saved them both the awkward ride.
At the same time, she doesn’t want to cut this any shorter than it already is. She doesn’t want to spend more time without him than she needs to. Not after spending so long thinking about him and missing him. Hanging on to the smallest reminders of his voice. All she had were the memories and whatever videos she could find of him online—as Mecha Man, granted, but still. A little piece of him was infinitely better than nothing.
That’s her only source of comfort right now, and the only thing that gives her a reason to try and salvage what’s left of the night. Maybe salvage’s not right. Too late for that. Paste gauze and hope the bleeding stops is more it.
So when she settles back on his lap, she does it with more confidence than she’s feeling. No hesitance. Just her full weight resting on top of him, shifting just a bit to get more comfortable as the cockpit seals.
“I’ll be honest, I imagined a lot more sex and nudity, but maybe I walked into the wrong auditorium,” she jokes. Her tone playful and mischievous. Lips curled in a smirk. Despite the proximity, she still leans closer to his face, just to make sure he doesn’t only hear the words, but also feel them as they’re breathed out against his mouth. “Maybe next time we go for something a little less PG? I think we can totally make it work in here. It’d just be very … intimate.”
Is there going to be a next time? Probably not. But a girl is allowed to be delusional on occasion.
If nothing else, at least she got to see him again, and kiss him again. And she’ll be thinking about that for as long as the memory will last.
Robert's eyes tilt in her direction as she speaks. He doesn't flinch though he wants to. No, he wants to crumple. And to wrap it all up in a nice little bow she says it. Asks if there is anything special at all about this tiny little cut out that he found sacred. Put on the spot or not he would spin his wheels coming up with a compelling answer that didn't feel halfhearted.
Nothing special. The decaying bench accompanied by a fading trail light, surrounded by overgrown grass and a single bent tree. The place for meaningless things. Robert too, he supposes. That's why he found this place. Like everything else in life, he just ended up there. Utterly out of control. But coming back and choosing this place for himself; to hide away like a little bitch. That was in his control.
Courtney, in her own mystic ways, reads him like a book. She needs no subterfuge with him. She strikes for the core, like she wants him to hurt, to really rub salt in the wound. Pain is easier to deal with when it's constant though and Robert just breathes it in.
It was a mistake bringing her here, he realizes. She doesn't belong here. Understanding was sought but none was found. Or it is being refused outright, maybe in the same way she feels he has wronged her. Failed her. Eye for an eye. Either way nothing changes even if they were both blind. This place. This piece of whatever Robert is. It's nothing special. And clearly he was blind long ago to even be in this situation with Courtney.
She probably would have liked some story about how his long-lost twin was kidnapped from here or a bear mauled his uncle or some other bullshit. Sounds better. Makes for a less sad reality; the reality that he is just lost and clueless like anyone else. No magic mirrors or mystique must be disappointing.
He sucks in air and reaches up for the cigarette while maintaining his slouching position. He nearly drops it in an awkward fumble, with his eyes focusing in so intently on her. Courtney stands up, clearly tired of the charade they had just barely started.
Robert then leans forward on the exhale, keeping his gaze at her and shaking his head as she plants herself in front of him; offering an array of choices for a reward. All of them lack the quality he truly desires.
All things considered. It is stupid, isn't it? Not worth the air to tell it or explain. Not without clarity on why. But in over a decade he paid visits here there is no satisfying answer in sight.
"Guess it doesn't sound as good as having some tragic story. It would be more satisfying if I said Shroud shot my Dad here or something huh?" He laughs, maybe a touch bitter. The game isn't fun anymore. The exchanges have a new feeling to them. More concise with their intent. This back and forth felt like malicious motions. A barb here. A jab there. A kick in the nuts after already hitting the floor. Honestly, what on Earth was he, or Mandy for that fact, hoping for while he scanned the city for Courtney all this time? A nice chat over lunch? Yeah, right.
"Surprised you didn't say that killing Shroud was my reward." He said it. Fuck. He doesn't want to think about Elliot now. He's already liable to say things he doesn't mean and the space already feels more hostile than it ever has before. Cigarette burns its fumes between index and middle knuckles while he props up the other arm, pinching the bridge of his nose. Can't hide the restlessness in his leg or the way his fingers slide back and forth rolling the tobacco either.
"I don't need a reward." He never has. And Robert doesn't see a world where she would even be willing to give him what he wants. "Kind of against company policy to take tips anyway. I prefer suffering for free." Raising his head slowly back up, he peers out from heavy eyelids accepting reality in all its quiet cruelty, much like the boy that watched his father walk out the door for the last time. Words are incapable of supporting an olive branch. They’re flimsy and crack under the weight of vulnerability.
Mecha Man straightens his neck, fluttering movement in an attempt to reinforce his own desire to dismiss how pathetic he feels. The smoke goes back into his mouth, garbling his voice. "Let me finish this cigarette then I'll take you back."
Courtney’s head shakes at him—at the absurdity of his words. She was never sure what kind of person Robert thought she was, but she’s not liking this version of her he’s painting one bit.
“That’s not at all what I…” Courtney huffs. “First of all, it’d be pretty fucked up to take me on a date to the place where your dad got killed by the man I killed. Second of all, I’m not some kind of sick fuck who gets off on knowing how tortured you are. I don’t need some sap story, Robert. I’ve heard plenty of those my whole life.” Nothing but, even. “I don’t need some big tragic thing to have happened to you here for this place to mean something. I just…” wanted to know why.
But she deflates. Passion burning out. Shoulders sinking. It doesn’t matter. She already told him it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to answer her. He doesn’t owe her his honesty, especially if he doesn’t think she ever gave him hers. It is what it fucking is. They’ve been stumbling around all night long trying to find their footing, sync their steps, see if they can walk in the same direction. But maybe the roads themselves are fucked. Maybe the earth is rotating in opposite directions for each of them.
A lump in her throat forms as he spews more bitter statements. Courtney doesn’t let it show, but the sting his words leave is sharp and poisonous. She deserves it, though. She doesn’t get to defend herself either because she did exactly what he’s accusing her of. And although she doesn’t regret the killing bit—because Shroud, for all intents and purposes, had it fucking coming—she does regret becoming a killer. She does regret having no other choice but to stain her hands with someone else’s blood. Even if that someone deserved what he got and then some. She regrets blocking her one and only way out of this dark fucking cave.
“Do you want that to have been a reward?” Courtney asks, voice dull and flat. Her head tilts to the side, piercing eyes locked on Robert’s. “Because I look at it more as me giving you the only proof I could, to show you whose side I was on the whole time. Since, apparently you couldn’t take my word for it. Figured, you know, actions usually speak louder. Though in that specific case, bloodier’s probably more like it. Shroud couldn’t really make much noise after I slit his throat.”
It comes out dry and soulless but replaying that image in her mind has her stomach twisting and bile shooting up her throat. Yeah, maybe going back is a good idea. Coming here, with him, was evidently not. She should have stuck to her plan. She should have kept her distance from him. She should have… She should have never let herself remember, what it was like to be with him. Because if tonight proved anything to her it’s that there is no going back to it. To what they had, whatever it was. It’s gone.
Still, she’s kept the act going all this time, might as well carry on. “Here, let me take care of that for ya.” Courtney snatches the cigarette from him, steals a drag for herself, then stubs out the smoke against the bench. “There. Now we can end our date. Gotta go on record for the shortest date I’ve had in my life.”
[ TXT ] : you owe me breakfast and an explanation from chase
📱Grandick
N u owe me an apology n a whole box of Granny's donuts
But in all honestly Courtney's more than relieved to hear from Chase. She can't help the smile that draws across her face as she sits just a little bit straighter in the hospital bed. Can't type as fast as she'd like one-handed, but she tries her best.
I saw u on the news earlier I think u gave that reporter a heart attack ... U doing okay?
where is my tall brown haired dream boy and is he thinking of me
Hard not to slide that easy smile into a smirk with her reaction. He may not see beyond the feigned annoyance but the reaction speaks for itself. It landed on some level.
"I think it's probably more like I get off on you actually doing your job. A man gets tired of only foreplay ya know? Showing a little bit of enthusiasm can go a long way," A single brow raises. "I mean look how well it worked on you."
A couple staff passing by shoot the two of them weird looks--mainly her. In the few months she's been here, Robert definitely stands out as a dispatcher. He's not uptight like the rest of these prude assholes, and Courtney appreciates that a lot about him. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
"You're such a fucking nerd," she sighs. "I thought I was already enthusiastic enough. What do you want me to do? Break into song and dance every time you send me on a call? Or were you being literal when you told me I should move my ass to the caller? You want me to twerk for our clients, Robbie? Will you be watching from one of your cameras?"
Robert's neck tilts back with her bend forward. He doesn't flinch away as the distance closes, instead he shakes his chin. Sizing her up about the same way he's feeling sized up.
"I message you every day. In fact I was doing it just before lunch. I think I recall it being something like 'Hey, Visi get your ass moving to the caller.' So I was just assuming you were looking for something a bit more..." Robert rolls a hand on his wrist, as though reeling the thought out of his brain. "Cryptic?" How ghoulish indeed.
Courtney rolls her eyes so hard they almost disappear into the back of her head. All that just so she doesn't so much as let her lips twitch at that terrible, awful, stupid pun. No matter how much she wants to. Can't let it get into his head that he's funny. Or that it takes basically no fucking effort to make her smile.
"Right, right. What you're saying is you get off on telling me what to do. So if I wanted the foreplay to last longer ... then I should just do the opposite of what you tell me to do, right? Or do it, but like, really fucking slowly."
That's totally what he was saying. She nailed it.
Pleased. She was pleased huh? Funny, by her own admission he was a pretty low bar. Really hard to tell how much of this was a joke at his expense sometimes. At times her actions were so brazen it was hard to not take it seriously, then other times he thought she was just a girl that commits to the bit.
Either way assuming the worst has gotten him this far.
"Pleased that a dadbod normie might think you're okay at your job? Well hey, if that's what you need I can send Chase a vague message too and you can read into that. Fastest I've ever pleased a woman in my life."
Wait. Fuck!
Robert's brows knit together.
That smug smile on his face tells her he's pretty pleased with himself too. Great! So they're both getting something out of this. Whatever the something is. Really Courtney just enjoys talking to him ... aaaand messing with him. Mostly the latter, but lately it's starting to be more of a fifty-fifty split between the two.
"I think I got a better idea. Why don't you cut off the middle man and just message me straight?" she says. "That way you can please me whenever you want and I don't have to spy on your messages anymore." Then she leans a little closer to add, "and maybe that way you can take your time, too."
When someone asks me to define hunger.
"innocent people don't run." (in which Villain!Visi is very much lying about being innocent)
"Oh, this is you being innocent?" The tone of his voice is tight enough to know that he isn't even close to believing her. His fingers, with tips pressing against the concrete wall on either side of her, slide out until his palms strengthen his posture by being flat against the surface. Again and again. Robert didn't think something like this would keep happening. Begrudgingly he almost started to enjoy catching her like this. Almost. Because he still would so much rather it be more like the movies.
"I thought it was because you felt bad for just up and leaving while we were in the middle of something last time." Elbows bend to allow an intrusion into more of her space. Mecha Man leaning forward until he could smell the cigarette smoke still clinging to her clothing and a bit of air pushed from her lips. "That and because the Mech is in front of the only door out of the building."
Robert tilts his head, sliding his brown eyes to her own, looking for… something, any sort of break in this character of hers. That is, when he's not being so distracted by her lips. A subject that has been on his mind more than he feels comfortable ever admitting since running into her at the Sardine. Really since the night with Shroud.
Seems she only bit when there was chum in the water.
“I don’t think we were in the middle of anything when I left last time.” Courtney says, voice firm and sharp.
She doesn’t turn away from Robert. Doesn’t try to slip out from under his arms. Doesn’t even flinch at the proximity when he leans a little too intimately close to her. But nowhere near as intimate as they got last time. The same way he has her caged against the wall, she has him pinned with a sharp, unrelenting stare.
“If I remember right, which I’m sure I do, we were pretty much finished.” Her head tilts to the side to emphasize the next part. “Both of us.”
But he’s right about one thing—he is blocking the only door out of the building. A miscalculation on her part. She really should have secured another way out before going in, but in her defense she really expected this to be a quick in-and-out situation.
“Well. Guess I’ll have to find another way out then.” She slips her mask back on, the rest of her words muffled but the mischief in them clear as day. “I think I’ve mastered escaping sticky situations at this point. Especially ones that involve you.”
Then she holds her breath and vanishes within the next second.
Robert's brows furrow. Her comment rubbing him in a much worse way than it should.
"Funny, I haven't noticed any other suitors."
No wait. He's not a suitor and that wasn't a confession! He has to lock in, she was twisting this too much.
"That wasn't a confession by the way. More like... a kind acknowledgement."
A pause. Suddenly he sees the amusement. Well, his own amusement anyway. Eyes narrow in on her as he tilts his head.
"I'm flattered though. You seem pretty excited about it despite how fast it was."
It's kinda hard not to be insulted at the insinuation, even though technically he's right. Courtney doesn't usually make it easy for people to flirt with her. Also most men are turned off by a girl who's too comfortable making the kind of vulgar sex jokes they'd rather take the lead on. They don't know how to handle her.
Not Robert, though. He just takes it in stride. Plays along. She likes that about him.
"Excited is a little much," she says. "Let's just say I'm a bit ... pleased."
@villainpowers is a little nosey.
Robert's face tightens with the coming of a hammer that he knew he had no hope of escaping from. Curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity also blew off a chunk of Robert's ear. Curiosity about him was putting him in a very awkward spot.
A roll of his head on his shoulders while Robert mentally dances around the subject, unwilling to even approach it with a ten foot pole. Not at work. Not right in front of her!
"Oh sure I like you. I think you're swell! Who else would keep me on my toes and make sure I don't relax in the company of peers?" Flawless, Robert. Fucking flawless. Sun King better remember the beer tonight. He's saddling all the blame on him.
Courtney shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she studies him, his tone, his demeanor. She decides to ignore the very loud sarcasm he laces his words in. More entertaining for her. More annoying for him.
"Wow, I didn't think it'd be that easy to get it out of you." She grins. "I think that's the fastest confession I've ever gotten out of a man in my life."
A sudden Courtney appears behind Robert, peeking from over his shoulder. "Is this ghoulish girl supposed to be me?"
Robert shook his head with a sigh as his finger taps send to their resident Sunny Boy; hoping beyond all hope that he wasn't signing on to some other nonsense. The PJs comment gives him the hesitance. Somehow more than the Ghoulish girl comment which was... well...
Is this ghoulish girl supposed to be me?
Robert jolts in his seat, a quick gust of air swallowed painfully down the throat. Even had the unfortunate sensation of teeth nipping the tip of his tongue to deal with now.
Robert spins his chair until he's staring up at the new troublemaker.
"Anyone ever tell you that it's rude to read someone else's messages?" A quick deflection. A bit too quick. A bit too...suspicious. Fuck.
"Arrrrrre you admitting to being a Ghoul? I think the company has some accommodations for that."
@villainpowers
Courtney's arms fold against her chest when she straightens, one step back to give Robert a little space to turn around and face her. Her brows quirk at his reaction, which is all the confirmation she needs, really.
"Metaphorically speaking? Yeah, I can see myself as a Ghoul." She nods. She's got the robbing part down, at least. And she'd probably rob a grave if it had really pricey treasure in it. "Also, you do remember the first time I saw you you were in your underwear, right? Feel like that gives me the right to spy on your messages, too."
Pause. Her lips slowly curl into an amused smirk.
"So," she says, eyes locked on his, "you like me?"
