charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
Moore's real first name was Jeremy, which he insisted Charlie call him, and she thanked god that he wasn't wholly unattractive. He definitely wasn't her type, though: clean-cut and well-shaven, with sharp brown eyes, short dark hair, and a lean, stick-like build. Not that any of those things were a problem, really-- she just preferred her men a little more chaotic. But just because he was moderately handsome didn't mean she liked spending time with him. The man was naturally controlling and physical and she'd already refused to have sex with him at least four times tonight alone. Even now, she looked rather annoyed as Moore led her to the bar with a hand on her back, smacking his hand away gently as he tried to slide said hand downward.
"One day you won't be such a prude, Charlotte," he scolded softly, and his smile unnerved her, even as she attempted to rein in her temper. That was another item on the 'creeper' list of things: his insistence on using her real first name. But beyond a few creepy tendencies and ego, she didn't really see him getting violent with anyone. Notyet, anyway. Just some some yelling and empty threats, which meant she was actively trying not to kick his ass, for Paulson's sake. She could see now, after four weeks and six "dates", that this guy had something wrong with him and hell if she was going to let her teammates get in trouble because of it. Someone had to keep an eye on this creep, even if it meant trying her patience to the breaking point.
Fortunately, the moment was short-lived as Moore's cell phone began to ring. "Agent Moore," he snapped into the phone. "What? Where? Yeah, yeah. I'll be right there. Just let me say goodbye to my lovely date." When he hung up, Charlie gave him an eyebrow. "Gotta go?" She asked, praying to god her tone didn't sound as hopeful as she meant it. Charlie feigned a pouty look when he rose and leaned over to press a brief kiss to her lips. "Just a little while, my princess. A very basic case."
"Hurry back," she responded with a forced smile. Of course, she didn't want him to hurry back. She wanted him to stay the fuck away from her for the next forever. But this was a job, she reminded herself, and the last thing she needed was him getting suspicious. Not when Paulson had called her in yesterday and insisted they were getting close to something.
As soon as Moore had left the bar, Charlie's posture changed, slumping down in the stool more comfortably, unzipping the front of her leather jacket and and tugging her hair out of the tight ponytail Moore had insisted she wear ("It makes it so much easier to see your pretty face, Charlotte!"), which cooled her in the warm air of the bar. Right now, she wanted to let go of the pliant little girlfriend act and be her old self, at least until Moore got back from whatever the hell he was doing. Whatever it was, it'd probably take a few hours.
"Vodka, straight. Make that a double," she ordered when the bartender asked. "No, wait. Just get your cheapest piece of shit vodka from under the counter and put the whole goddamn bottle out here. I just need a fucking drink that ain't the fruity pusssy-ass bitch drinks that man keeps ordering for me."