gretchen scabior is the spice of life (mollisher) wrote in sixdegreesrpg, @ 2011-02-17 23:04:00 |
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Gretchen glanced around the office, trying to remember if there was anything else she needed to do before heading home. Trevor wasn’t much for filing or organisation, he just tended to leave things on whichever vertical surface was closest, as such it made things slightly difficult to keep on top of, but she’d been working with him for so long that she’d developed her own methods of dealing with his clutter.
Everything seemed to be through and she yawned and stretched before twisting in place and Apparating home. The house was empty when she appeared, only Keg came trotting out to meet her, wagging his tiny tail in greeting. She grinned and stooped, skritching him lightly on the head before making her way into the kitchen. She could have had Baxter make dinner, but there were times when she liked to cook and so she dumped food into Keg’s bowl and set about making dinner for herself.
Leaving after Melinda, Trevor Apparated straight back to the house, ready to deal with the next item on his agenda. His mind was still trying to process the fact that Gretchen had an actual warrant out on her but he’d dealt with it. He’d been luckier than he could have ever hoped for, the way it had played out, with Melinda getting the warrant and being willing to strike a deal. It still didn’t resolve how Gretchen had managed to bollocks things up enough to get in the situation in the first place and why this was the first he was hearing about it.
“Gretch!” He bellowed, following the distant sounds from the kitchen. He bust through the door and stopped when he found her, looking up from the stove. Ignoring Keg, who bounded toward him as soon as he entered the room, he narrowed his eyes at Gretchen and stepped closer. All his frustration, anger, panic and even fear, every emotion that had flooded through him at Melinda’s post surged back and he shook his head. “What the fuck, Gretch!”
Gretchen didn’t catch the tone in Trevor’s voice when he yelled for the first time, her mind on the sausages frying on the stove and she turned when he pushed into the kitchen, her smile freezing on her face as she took in his expression. “What the fuck?” she echoed, her brows furrowing in confusion.
“A warrant!” He shouted, letting his emotions, which had dulled slightly from the relief of finding a solution, get the better of him again. “You ‘ad a FUCKING WARRANT on your ‘ead!!” He slammed his hand down on the counter. “Breaking and Entering?! Assault?! ‘ow is there a warrant, Gretchen! Forget to tell me something?”
Opening and closing her mouth, it took Gretchen a few tries to be able to speak. A warrant? What the fuck would that mean for the business, for her? “Trevor - ” she started, stepping back from him and the stove. Her mind quickly ran through the possibilities of what he was saying. She committed both those crimes on a near daily basis, how was she to know which - she cut her thoughts off, things suddenly falling into place. “I thought I’d handled it,” she answered, her voice low.
“You thought you ‘andled it...” Trevor echoed incredulously. “You thought...Gretch! What was there to ‘andle! Why didn’t I know there was something that ‘ad to be ‘andled! You tell me when anything ‘appens that ‘as to be ‘andled!”
“I didn’t think it was anything!” Gretchen shouted, pressing her lips together to hold herself back. Yelling at Trevor was absolutely not the course of action at this point. They had to figure out what to do, hell, she should probably have been charming a portkey to get herself the fuck out of England instead of turning the stove off and arguing with her husband in the kitchen. “I was stupid,” she started, hoping that admitting that right off the bat would stave off some of Trevor’s anger. “I got some bad information about a relic someone was holding. I got caught but I thought I dealt with it, I - ” hexed them... and that would be the assault he’d mentioned.
“Trevor,” she twisted slightly, glancing upstairs, her mind running through what she needed to take and do, who she could call on, where she could go. “How long do I have?”
Trevor folded his arms and watched her squirm. It felt good, for a short moment, to watch her deal with the anxiety he’d been laboring under but it quickly faded. “I fixed it,” he said, watching her for a moment before he went about pouring her a drink and let her catch up.
“Fixed it? How?” Gretchen echoed, the relief that rushed through her weakening her knees for a moment. He wasn’t yelling and she was surprised, crossing the room and collapsing into a chair as she watched him. “I should’ve told you,” she said, after a moment, even though she didn’t really believe that.
“Yeah, you should’ve,” he agreed, crossing over to lean against the wall next to her and pass her a drink, a double. “Dumb as shite,” he added, sipping his own drink, not that he needed it as badly as her, “Not telling me.” He glanced down at her, still amazed that she had done something so tremendously stupid and reckless as this. “Bobbin. She fixed it. Made it go away.”
At Trevor’s mention of the hitwizard, Gretchen was only barely able to keep her jaw from clenching. Of course it would be Bobbin that had helped her out. It wasn’t that she disliked the woman so much as she just automatically hated anyone who Trevor shagged. Taking the drink Trevor handed her, she knocked it back, downing half of it in one swallow. “Am I supposed to tell you everything I do now?” she shot at him, unable to bite back her irritation.
“If something goes wrong, you tell me. Not a ‘ard concept,” he spat back, irritated she even thought she could get away with talking to him like that, now of all times. “I could’ve done something to ‘ead this shite off at least! Save us a good 6000 galleons at least.” The total caused another scowl, the same he’d had on when he sent the first half of it off to Melinda; he always hated parting with his gold, even if it was for a good reason.
6000 galleons! Gretchen gaped for a moment at the fact that Trevor had dropped that much money saving her arse. “It only just happened, Trevor.” she protested, finishing her drink and pushing out of her chair to pour herself another drink. “I got caught, I obliviated them, I don’t know what happened.” she bit back the rest of the story, her injury and the fact that she’d had to shell out galleons for their Healer, it wasn’t important.
“Telling me should ‘ave been the first thing you did,” he stressed again, finishing his drink. “Something obviously went ‘orribly fuckin’ wrong. Coulda done, I don’t know, something. Made sure we watched them so nothing ‘appened,” he shrugged, he wasn’t altogether sure what he would have done in the situation if she had told him but he was far more paranoid and careful than her, there would have been something. And if it was the something that prevented a warrant for her arrest being filed, that’s all that mattered.
Fetching the bottle from the counter, he splashed a little in his glass and topped hers up, leaving the bottle beside her before falling down into his own chair. Keg trotted over and sat down at his feet, staring up at his master in another attempt to get some affection. It took a soft whimper but Trevor’s hand reached down and idly scratched his head.
“Going to the Healer was the first thing I did!” Gretchen shot at him, momentarily losing her grip on her emotions before catching herself and sinking forward, burying her head in her hands. “Salazar, Trevor,” she breathed. There was a part of her that was surprised that this was the first time they’d had a legal issue of this magnitude, and of course it had had to be her that had made the biggest mistake. “What did she tell you?” she took a long sip of her drink and avoided looking at Trevor, hating the vulnerability she was showing. “How did they... what did I forget to do?”
The mention of a Healer brought Trevor back to sharp attention. “‘Ealer?” He questioned, latching onto that one word. “Why the fuck did you need a ‘ealer? What ‘appened?” She hadn’t mentioned it before and it wasn’t like they both hadn’t had their fair share of Healer trips but he’d always thought they knew when things like that happened.
Gretchen scowled and finished her drink, grabbing the bottle and pouring herself another. “One of ‘em dislocated my shoulder,” she responded, rolling her shoulder and wincing at the memory of the blinding pain, it had been one of the most agonising injuries she’d suffered. “I - ” she stopped herself suddenly, thinking back. “That must’ve been where I fucked up.”
Trevor winced softly at the mention of her shoulder, too acquainted with the painful, if easy to fix, sort of injury. “Alright now?” he asked, stiffly, dealing with a mix of concern for his partner as well as irritation and anger at the outcome of everything. “What’d you do with them?” He continued, intent on dealing with business before personal.
“Obliviation,” she nodded at his question, half turning towards him, studying his face out of the corner of her eye in an attempt to gauge his mood, see how angry he was at her. She'd been tender the next day, or maybe it had been her imagination, either way she hadn't wanted Trevor to handle her as roughly as he usually did, but she was fine now. “I must’ve fucked it up because of my shoulder. I just couldn’t focus on anything but how much it hurt. I’m surprised I didn’t splich myself Apparating out of there.” She sighed and closed her eyes, furious at herself.
“Gretch,” Trevor ran his hand over his face, running through all the better ways of handling the situation than she’d chosen. Killing them would have been the obvious solution. Or stunning them and dealing with it later. A stunner was not nearly as complicated as a memory charm. Hell, even if she’d just petrified them and sent him to deal with it while she got healed and they wouldn’t be in the mess they were!
"I couldn't think!" Gretchen snapped, angry at herself and unable to not take it out on Trevor. She'd gone into the situation cocky and reckless, giddy with thoughts of her own skill, of Trev and the band around her finger, had assumed things would be fine and the arrival of the guards had thrown her completely. She would've been fine if she'd heard them coming, if her first knowledge of them hadn't been when one of them had grabbed her arm and yanked, wrenching her shoulder out of its socket. "I'm lucky I got out of there alive, Trevor."
Alright, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration but he didn't need to know that. "Besides, if I'd done anything else, killed 'em or sommat, we... I would be in much more trouble."
“Not that I see,” he muttered, purposely overlooking the threat of death, not sure how she’d be in more trouble if she’d offed the buggers there and cleaned up. “Not with them, not with me.”
At his mention of being in trouble with him, Gretchen frowned and turned away from him, downing her drink and reaching unsteadily for the bottle to pour herself another. "Killing four blokes is a bit more serious than breaking into someone's house. Bobbin probably wouldn't have gotten that warrant, which means I'd be in loads more trouble. Or dead," she snorted, shaking her head and knocking back half her drink. "Like 'ell I'm letting anyone take me alive."
“Might be serious,” he snapped, irritated with her insistence on arguing. “But a bunch of dead blokes aren’t going to run to the Ministry and report you. We are capable of dealing with that, if you’d bother to think of telling anyone.” One damn ward to him and none of this would have been a problem. It was annoying and frustrating and the irritation welled up again and he grabbed the bottle from her, taking a swig straight from it, forgetting his glass.
Gretchen sighed, eyeing her drink for a moment. "You're right," she said, emptying the glass and leaning her head heavily on her hand, the alcohol she’d quickly consumed catching up with her. "You're right." She said again, not looking at him. "I fucked up," she was able to resist the urge towards self depreciation, knowing it would not only be false, but it wouldn’t garner any sympathy from Trevor, and placed her hands on the table, heaving herself to her feet, where she wobbled unsteadily for a moment, blinking owlishly as she tried to remember why she'd stood.
Trevor shook the bottle, checking the level and watched her skeptically as she stood and wobbled. Her admission had served to placate him, he brain was too tired to deal with punishment after everything; It was enough to him to know that she owned up to her mistake finally. “Where you goin’, Gretch?” He sipped from the bottle, slumping in his chair as he watched her.
“Bed?” she asked tentatively, after a moment, unsure if he wanted her around after what had happened. “I could Apparate to the flat, or the boat.” She considered herself for a bit, taking a step back and looking down at him. “Or not Apparate at all.” She gestured upstairs towards her room. She’d been hungry when she’d come home, but now she was just tired, of everything. She’d feel better in the morning, she knew, still angry at herself but not as exhausted, so bed was the best decision, rather than arguing with Trevor further.
Snerking softly, Trevor took one more swig and shook his head as he stood up. “C’mon,” he muttered, setting the bottle back on the table and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Bloody lightweight,” he added, tugging her toward the stairs with his support. As entertaining as it might be to watch her try to stumble upstairs, he didn’t feel like watching her fall on her arse. Or listen to the whining that would ensue.
Moving with him, Gretchen tucked herself against Trevor obligingly. She was still surprised that Trevor had reacted as well as he had, but she had a feeling this wasn’t all the punishment she was going to get. Regardless, she’d take what she could get. “I drank a lot,” she protested, twisting in his arms and raising up on her toes to snog his neck, halting their progress.
“Or you can’t ‘old your liquor,” he shot back, teasing her even as he tilted his neck to let her do as she pleased. He knew she could drink most people she ran into under a table but he always enjoyed taking her down a peg and, at the moment, falling into their normal routine seemed so much easier to dealing with what he had been all night.
Her lips against his neck, she moved in his arms, pressing up against him. “I can drink you under a table,” she murmured, running her fingers along his suspenders before moving to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, hoping to shag him into a better mood.
“Like ‘ell,” he smirked, wrapping his other arm around her waist to hold her where she was. “You ‘aven’t managed it yet,” he pointed out before he finished closing the gap, snogging her firmly.
Tugging at the buttons on his shirt, Gretchen gave a little moan into the kiss. “Trevor,” she breathed, taking a step back towards the stairs and pulling him with her. “One day I will,” she swore a moment later, after she caught her breath, unbuttoning his shirt and yanking it out of his pants, running her fingers along his chest.
“Mmm, sure,” Trevor cast her a doubtful look but didn’t bother to crush her dreams quite yet. He watched her fingers run over his chest. “Whatever you want to think.” He stooped again and gave her another drawn out kiss, fingers squeezing her hips firmly, before he broke and tugged her up the stairs. “C’mon. Before you fall over. Cos I’ll leave you there and I don’t think Baxter can lift you.”