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Tweak says, "He's kinda sweet."

caradoc kaine thinks you're the bestest~ (bound_caradoc) wrote in bound_rp,
@ 2014-06-02 22:15:00

Current mood:	scared
Current music:	F+tM - Dog Days Are Over
Entry tags:	caradoc kaine, ernie jackson, herb jackson, in progress, private, ross richards

run fast for your mother, run fast for your father...
Date: June 3rd, 2013
Time: Late afternoon, 3:30pm
Location: Jackson & Jackson: Professional Dicks
Characters: Caradoc Kaine, Ernie Jackson, Herbert Jackson, Ross Richards
Description: Quokka gone wild
Status: Private, in progress

She didn't know how they had found her.

One minute, Caradoc was taking the long way home, walking slowly, staring into shop windows as she ambled past them, and the next she was ducking down an alleyway hiding behind a dumpster quickly shucking her clothes and shoving them into her backpack before shifting into her slightly faster four-footed form. She knew on a subconscious level that the sight of a slightly oversized rat-like creature loping down the way with a purple backpack on might attract attention, but she assumed that being around shin-high was a bit less attention-grabbing than a teenager booking it down the street.

She could hear the hunters coming into the alley behind her, shouting for a 'Ms. Kaine', which she ignored as she took off once again. She wasn't sure how long she'd been running when she spotted an open door and headed towards it. As she got closer, she could hear people speaking inside. Taking a moment to stash the backpack behind him bushes, she ran inside the building and started to climb the first person she encountered, just in time for the men chasing her to catch up.

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bound_herb
2014-06-03 11:47 pm UTC (link)

Yep, Herb was pre-tty impressed with what him and Ernie had managed to do with a lick of paint, a sledgehammer, a few purloined letters from various posh signs around town, and a pile of amphetamines as big as both of their heads.

He was still a bit twitchy, actually. Which was making the remodelling all kinds of fun.

"FORE!" He yelled, swinging the sledgehammer into the counter that had, inexplicably, been there already. For a second-story office space, it looked like someone had just had their own personal bar set up here. Complete with the remnants of booze, which they'd happily taken as motivation to get the work done.

But, Jackson & Jackson: Professional Dicks was coming together, slowly but surely. It was their little side project during the time it took Delia to get her shit together and find them a phoenix, cobbled together through graft, bribery and blackmail. It was actually Ernie who'd had the bright spark, and wonders truly never did cease, it seemed. The problem with casing joints, he'd said, was that people got annoyed when you camped outside of their houses in beaten-up Volkswagens. What if they actually invited them in?

Thus, after a particularly awful mistrial involving a purloined exterminator's van, they'd hit upon the idea of a PI agency.

What they weren't prepared for was the sudden rodent invasion, which made a beeline for Ernie's pocket, before the clattering of boots sounded on the stairs.

"Our first customers, Ernest!" Herb shouted. "Look sharp!"

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