Who: Carlos Ramirez & Molly Carpenter What: A Warden and the Rag Lady walk into a bar... Where: Starbucks When: Saturday, high noon Warnings | Status: TBD | in progress
"Man, you're making my job easy, Miss Carpenter," Carlos said. He turned the extra chair around and slid down onto it, resting his forearms on the back, then leaned in and watched Molly coolly. It probably wasn't a good idea to sneak up on her like that, but Ramirez threw out all notions of personal safety, banking on a public place as protection enough for the moment. He didn't intend to wrestle with the woman--damn would she look good in a mud puddle with another girl--but he was well aware she didn't know that. He cast her a casual grin, which with Ramirez pretty much bordered on flirty. What could he say? It looked good.
"Hold it, chica," he stopped her from talking with a vague hand gesture, "before you go all crazy Rag Lady and skip the fuck out on me, I already talked to Dresden," he said. He reached for the napkin on the table, fiddling with it both out of habit, and because he was incapable of sitting still for any lengthy amount of time.
"He told you what's up?" Since Dresden had gotten himself killed Molly had become a warlock slated for execution by the White Council, and Ramirez headed the hunt for her. Which more or less meant he wasn't trying that hard to find her while letting the Council think he was, but he figured it was about time to settle the account with Carpenter in person. He didn't want her nervous and looking over her shoulder for his sword to come down on her neck. Hell, he wasn't even carrying it right now.