Re: Edges of Ballroom
When Hockney started to tense, Jennifer pulled away slightly. She wasn't the sort of person who manhandled women against their will, and the thought of her proximity as unwelcome made the detective's jaw clench. Whatever, it wasn't like it mattered.
What did matter, however, was the response to her question. It failed to make her any less hot-blooded about the predicament Hockney currently found herself in. "Morgenstern," she all but stuttered, "and you didn't think to tell me this?" Jennifer rolled her eyes.
At the reversal of interrogation, however, she leaned back even further. It was true...Daryl Hockney had absolutely no clue as to her past. It must've been some sort of bizarre duality, she supposed, to live part of her life as a brooding Seattle police detective and the other as resentful tool of her parent's money and social standing, fostered off on a man who--well, all the rest of it too. "What you know of my element you could stick into a thimble, pipsqueek." She sighed. "Don't even think I'm just going to leave you here."