Morgan Marrok (loveless_heart) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2009-10-11 17:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-06-17 |
The Pie Is But A Decoy!
Who: Annabelle and Morgan
Where: Annabelle and Oliver's house
When: Wednesday, dinner time
Following the end of his shift, Morgan did indeed return home. His shift ended early, relatively, but that was entirely due to the fact that he had gone in so early to begin with. One of the pitfalls about being a cop that was universal? You had to be able to be pretty good at working any time, day or night. Morgan was, but he would be lying if he said that there wasn’t a part of him that was pretty pissed off when he looked at a clock and it was two in the morning and he wasn’t in bed.
There was a lot of time that passed between the time when he got home and the time he was supposed to meet up with his sister for a talk. Annabelle believed that it would be a talk about Morgan’s birthday celebrations, when it was, in fact, going to be a talk about the perils of dating a human. If it was any other reason, Morgan probably would have taken a few hours to nap before waking up and getting ready. No such luck. He tried in vain to nap, but it didn’t work out because he was just too preoccupied thinking about what he would say and the possible reactions his sister would have. They weren’t very good reactions, he surmised. But Annabelle was a surprising young woman, so maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t end up hating him at the end of the night. That would make his birthday suck a little bit. Maybe he could use that. Maybe.
Finally, when dinner time started to come around, Morgan drove away from his apartment at the Court. Before he made his way to Annabelle and Oliver’s place, he swung by the grocery store and picked up a pie. Annabelle’s favorite. He was a guest and she was making him dinner. It was only polite. Plus, it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was using the pie as an offering to hopefully curb her wrath towards him. No, not at all. It was probably more typical to bring some wine or something to a dinner invite, but that didn’t work for two reasons. One was that Morgan didn’t drink. The other, and the more important of the two, was that Annabelle wasn’t yet old enough to drink. There was enough of a stigma about cops being crooked and using their badge to break laws and get away with it without actually making it true. Morgan knew it. He’d seen it with his own two eyes. Stopped it, too.
Pulling up to his siblings’ home, Morgan parked and stayed inside the truck for a little while. It was off, but he could turn it back on and speed away. Not that it would work. Annabelle probably knew he was there. She probably heard the truck. Smelled his all too familiar scent in spite of whatever it was that was cooking. He couldn’t pinpoint it himself. Hopefully he’d be able to actually eat, though. Breakfast (or lunch for him, really) didn’t go all that well with Oliver. He had a little bit to eat when he got home, but it seemed like his appetite just wasn’t doing what it was supposed to be at that time.
After a few moments, Morgan opened the door and then shut it. Pie in one hand. The eldest Marrok made the short walk over to the door and knocked. Yes, she was expecting him. Yes, she was his sister… but he still knocked. Why? Honestly, he couldn’t say.