Who: Ruby & Gerry Geralt What: Ruby's applying for an administrative position, and Geralt just so happens to help When: Todayish? Recently! Where: SVU Division of the police department Rating/Warnings: Language and Ruby's pervy thoughts Status: Complete!
Since Granny had recovered from the heart attack scare (though she was really stubborn about it too, hardly ever listening to the advice to do that thing called ‘rest’), her and Ruby hadn’t argued as much. They used to get into yelling matches all the time, before Ruby ran off to find her mother - but after she saw that Anita wasn’t exactly fit to be a parent, and her Granny’s health was waning, Ruby realigned her priorities and tried to consider things from Granny’s point of view a little more. And likewise, Granny loosened the reins a bit.
But sometimes they still fought. Like today. Ruby just didn’t want to sweep the patio - and she especially didn’t want to get up early to do it either. There weren’t any classes today, she would soon register for the fall - but apparently Granny thought she needed to be busy 24/7 like her old woman self was, and if Ruby didn’t devote all her energy to working the B&B that must mean she didn’t care.
Whatever. It was a spat tale as old as time, for the two of them.
Ruby did get up. She got dressed, put on a nice dress with a candy apple bodice - the skirt was a red damask pattern and hit her knees, so it was also classy and went nicely with the high heels she selected. Her makeup done, lipstick stain in a satin rouge, she went off to find a damn job in a field she actually had an interest in - because that meant less time doing things like sweeping patios, scrubbing toilets, and preparing breakfast casseroles. Oh yeah, Ruby would show Granny something, alright.
By the time she got to the police station (after taking the bus - no car yet, that was fun), she felt disgusting and probably looked the same way; confidence was rapidly wilting under the heat, yep, because it was just so hot outside. So she stopped in the coffee and donut shop next door to refresh her makeup, clean shiny pores, and run a comb through her snarled hair that got twisted thanks to the open bus window. This wasn’t a great way to make an impression.
But when she was certain she looked alright, she with her nerves tumbling around like circus acrobats in her stomach and head held high (fake it ‘til you make it?) she went into the building and asked to see...someone. Anyone. Maybe if she knew what she was talking about she’d get an actual person faster.
Turns out that someone, that anyone Ruby had asked to see was a person who’d prefer to not be bothered at all - a grizzled man with an expression that was the definition of unreadable, one that often teetered between apathy and annoyance. Maybe someone should flip a coin to decide what it was for today.
Geralt hated this building. Hated all the noise, the crowd of people, the looming stack of paperwork that resembled a lopsided tower about to collapse at any given time - and yet part of living in this weary world involved doing all the things you hated to do something you wanted to do. Necessary evils, that kind of shit. Special Victims Unit was its own beast of a department too, with cases that were equal parts heinous and heartbreaking. Sex crimes, neglect, domestic abuse, traffickers. He didn’t get a lot of those during his years of independent investigations (and why would he, those were situations victims hardly ever wanted to speak out against).
But working with them had changed his life, for better or for worse. Sometimes there were happy endings. It made it worth it, even if only a few of those existed.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice naturally that deep and that hoarse that his vocals must be made of sandpaper. Geralt was built tall and broad, wide shoulders and arms thick with muscle. Somewhere in his genetics was the gene that had him grey prematurely, too, silver in his hair and beard - it had him seem older than he was and fuck, he sure as hell felt old.
Must be here to file a report, he thought. Pretty girl, too. He braced himself for a potential shitstorm of a story.
Oh. Oh, okay then. Hey there, Hottie McHottiepants. Hey, could you blame Ruby’s brain for fizzling out for a second there?
She was equally attracted to both genders, something she’d discovered while growing up in a seaside village with not much else to do, and she especially liked the tall, grizzled, and ‘I will ravish you in a cabin with no electricity’ type. Maple syrup, Paul Bunyan - now her mind was that going off course.
Anyway. “Hi!” Any notion that she may have stopped by to file a report about any abusive ex throwing her through a window or something, and thus unlocking her tragic backstory and cementing distrust in men forever, probably dissipated when she smiled and instead looked like she was selling Girl Scout cookies. Adult ones. “I’m here to apply for a job - do you have a form I can fill out or something? And a mighty pen? A pen...just a pen. Do you have one? I mean, obviously, of course you have one - “ It was probably impressive too.
She just kept smiling. And leaned against the nearest desk, hand on her hip.
Ah. Geralt hadn’t expected that.
With a brow lifted and arms locked over his chest, he listened - listened to the fumble of the words, how quick she talked, took note of the persistent smile as if it’d mask her nerves. And in a contradicting way, she exuded confidence. One could say he was even amused, though it was hard to tell with him sometimes.
Nowhere in his job description did it say deal with potential applicants but clearly the administrative assistants were doing fuck all but their job. He was here, already talking with her, and he wasn’t an asshole unprovoked. Might as well get her what she needed. “I’ve a pen,” he confirmed - yeah, definitely amused, you could almost hear the smirk in his tone. “And an application you can fill out. Follow me.”
It was a sea of desks, some lucky to have cubicles, and his was one of them - close to the sergeant's office (they were good friends even if they didn’t always see eye to eye). A computer, a blinking phone (he’d get to that, fuck off), that aforementioned fucking lopsided tower of paperwork (he’d get to that, too, eventually), and the only personal touch was a framed photograph of an ash-blonde woman shy out of adolescence, cheekily smiling with emerald eyes.
A mighty pen and form came right up. “Anything specific you’re applying for?”
He sucked at small talk. Bear with him.
Of course she’d follow, heels clicking and clacking on the floor - the view wasn’t bad at all, watching Mr. Hot Detective lead her back toward his cubicle. Ruby was just glad she’d freshened up and re-spritzed with perfume before coming in here all smelling like a sweaty foot. Phew!
“Well, I’ll be studying Criminal Justice once I get my gen eds out of the way,” she said with a glance around, sitting on the edge of the desk as she took the miiiiiiighty pen and the appropriate job application, on a clipboard. Legs crossed, she used her knee for balance to write on. “So just something...administrative, maybe. To give me a start in the field. Do you need a personal assistant or anything? I could take care of that for you.”
Stop staring at his rippling muscles and presumably large UPS package, Ruby. “The paperwork, I mean.”
Geralt wasn’t naive. His cock was also far from broken (he was a gentleman with manslut moments), and what the minx’s end goal with her conspicuous flirtation was beyond him - but he’d argue that his view was better. Much better. “I don’t doubt you could,” said the detective.
Words with a hint of a double-meaning, maybe? He’d leave it with a little mystery.
He sat at his chair, and would offer Ruby the perfectly good seat across from him except for the fact that his desk had been the chosen spot for her ass. Whatever floated her boat. “Hiring’s not my thing, but we’re running low on competent administrative staffing. I’ll make sure the right person sees your app.” And since Geralt was becoming well-acquainted with the view of her legs, he figured formalities weren’t a stretch. “What’s your name?”
She did have some fantastic gams, didn’t she? All mostly because she was blessed with great genes - she went for morning runs, sure, but this aspiring Criminal Justice major also ate like a horse and equated going to the gym with a trip to the dentist (though she’d gladly burn a few calories with Mr. Pen is Mighty over here). Stare away, Detective.
“Ruby Lucas,” she introduced herself, looking up and offering a flash of a polished smile and a bat of lace-curtain lashes. “I really appreciate the help. Are all the cops around here as handsome as you?”
Finishing the form, she leaned over to set the clipboard down and caught a glimpse of the girl in the photo. Pretty sparse cube in the cube-desk farm, so the one something personal was noticeable. “Oh, she’s cute! Your...daughter-niece-sister-best friend-didn’t take the factory photo out of the frame.” Hey, just covering all bases here.
That was straightforward. Maybe she was buttering him up to pass on an even better word to his superior - seemed more likely than actual interest, considering nowadays he glanced at the mirror and griped about how fuckin’ old he looked. Must be the greys. Geralt blamed this damn job, sigh. “I’ll let you be the judge of that if you’re hired,” he gave a gravelly chuckle, taking the clipboard to let his eyes pass over her credentials, and -
Who was she calling cute?
His lifted his eyes to the picture, the frame a simple mahogany wood - no embellishment, no real indication of who she was. But the sight of Ciri, even in just photographic form, had him reflexively smile. “Daughter.” Didn’t need to drop the ‘adopted’ detail, and there was no band on his finger to indicate he had a ball and chain that played the role of ‘mother’ over the girl. “Left the nest not long ago for a road of self-discovery now that she’s of age.”
Most assumed he knocked someone up young to have a daughter of that age, and it was amusing to let them come up with their own theories. Cirilla’s backstory was meant to be underwraps due to the bloody nature of how she came to be his charge, anyway.
“Oh, I totally get that,” Ruby laughed, green eyes studying the photo in more detail - those eyes were a myriad of colors, really, but mostly moss and springtime ferns. Save for the flecks of gold in there, something deeper. Something restrained, perhaps. Something inhuman. “I did the same thing not too long ago - but after growing up in a seaside village where we were all about tins of salmon, I felt like I was due some adventure.”
Still, the girl in the photo was pretty - she didn’t really resemble her father, but the whole situation wasn’t Ruby’s business, and she wouldn’t make assumptions. She’d just go with it.
Then she glanced back at the helpful gentleman police officer. “Well, even if I’m not hired, we should grab a beer sometime - and since you’ve got my name, it seems fair I get yours too?”
Hm, alright. Geralt might as well nibble at the bait dangling in front of him - he was a sucker for women (redheads made him weak, but so did brunettes), and she was working the feminine wiles on him with a certain kind of skill he respected. “It’s Geralt,” he answered, and her presence managed to pull something more than a smile from him. It was almost a grin. Almost, if she could even see it midst the unkempt bush of facial hair.
He made a mental note to trim it before he went out and did anything social, otherwise he was a fucking barbarian.
“And whether you get hired or not you can tell me all about your tins of salmon.” His business card only listed his desk phone - but he made a point to scribble down his personal number. “You want to pick the place, or should I just give you a surprise address?”
Tins of salmon, super interesting. Or at least, Ruby would make it that way - she did have some good stories about running with her mother’s motorcycle gang. Before duty to Granny brought her back like the good granddaughter she was. Then again, that may not be the best thing to go into detail about with someone in law enforcement.
“I think a surprise sounds fun,” she decided, taking the business card and giving it a look-over before slipping it into her handbag. “I like a little mystery.” Probably wouldn’t be a mystery, five minutes in, that Geralt (what a great name!) would get laid on this outing, if he wanted - but Ruby could just not say that right now because she was enigmatic, alright.
Returning the favor, she wrote her cell phone number on the back of one of the business cards advertising the B&B. “I help my Granny with the place,” she told him, giving him the card. “We’re right on the beach. It’s so picturesque you might even cry.” Snort.
Already there were some of his, ahem, esteemed colleagues casting their shit-eating grins over his cubicle - and Geralt wished he had the luxury of a door, but giving them them the middle finger after their exchange was just going to have to do the trick. He gave those out often. “Sounds idyllic,” he commented. Really, it did. He preferred places surrounded by the wonders of nature, away from the busy bustle of urban decay and shit. “Won’t shed a tear, I promise.”
Ciri wouldn’t mind a getaway there, he was sure of it. Whenever that wildling of his returned.
“But I’ll make sure this,” he lifted the clipboard, “gets into the right hands. You’ll have to excuse my fellow officers, though, they’re waiting on giving me shit and having you here makes it easier on their eyes to even look at me.”
Yeah, Lambert, he could fucking see you. His grin towards Ruby was hilariously forced now - and that middle finger showed up early as he mutli-tasked. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman to get offended by a crude finger.
The co-workers gave Ruby a snicker and, well, didn’t they seem like a barrel of laughs. Teasing ol’ Gerry in a fun way. That middle finger didn’t bother her either - it just made her smile widen “I’m sure that’s not true - you’re pretty easy on the eyes,” she winked, sliding off of his desk (chair, what chair, was she supposed to sit in a chair?) and adjusting the skirt of her dress slightly.
“But hey, it was nice to meet you, Geralt.” What origin was that? It was hot. Whatever it was, definitely hot and she felt like she needed to cool herself off with a splash of ice water - not just because of the gross weather outside. “Just shoot me a text with that surprise address for whenever you’re free?”
She hoped it would be soon. Ruby hadn’t been on a date in aaaaaages. Everything had just been so busy lately and plus she didn’t want Granny to say anything embarassing.
Be still, his heart. Someone who pronounced his name correctly the first go - what a damn rarity. Most of the time people thought he mispronounced his own name, or they heard incorrectly, and replaced the T at the end with a G. Did he look like an asshat named Gerald?
It was a pet peeve. He never went back to Starbucks because of it. Petty, but fuck it.
“Likewise, Ruby,” he stood from his own chair, and he’d walk out with a hand on her (upper, he wasn’t rude) back to help her lead the way out. Geralt could hear the snickering from those whoresons. “I’ll follow you out. Could use the fresh air before I flip a table on them.”
“Now that might be amusing to see,” Ruby stated deviously, complete with an eyebrow waggle - she had a pretty good one, if she did say so herself. She was more than alright with the escort out though, sparing a glance over her shoulder she caught a glimpse of the laughing co-workers. Aw.
Wasn’t like she’d be heading to a sleek car she had parked in front of the building - nope, it was just the bus bay right there, bench and overhang and all. And she tried not to look too lame as she casually stopped there and leaned against the side of the bench. “So what exactly is your thing - here?” she waved in the general direction of the police station. “What kind of cases do you work on?”
It seemed like he was well-respected in the department, teasing co-workers aside. That was pretty much a good sign anyway, in her opinion. A dull workplace was a soulsucking workplace.
It wasn’t lame to him, none of it, but he didn’t find the need to mention it - though the observation of her lack of vehicle was noted. Future reference sort of deal. “‘Special victims,’” Geralt answered, hands tucked into his pockets - work attire consisted of some kind of formal wear, dress pants and the such, but he wore it with a somewhat wrinkled white-shirt not buttoned all the way to the top. He was definitely on the more rugged spectrum. “Cases involving children, women. Sex crimes, domestic abuse. It’s one hell of an ugly world out there.”
A fucking hideous one. He’d seen enough to know that monsters existed within people. He knew the system was broken, the people pulling the strings twisted, but the department put him working with people who didn’t have anyone else to turn to but the system.
“Tends to get messy there, back in the department,” he motioned to the building with his head. “Sure that’s what you want to get into?”
Sex crimes and domestic abuse, those were heavy and depressing. But, unfortunately, part of the world they lived in - bad stuff was out there, and not everyone was inherently heroic. Ruby wasn’t naive to that. “I’m sure that I want to help people who have it rough,” she said. “And obviously I know that I, single-handedly, can’t fix everything but I guess I can just do my part? Plus, you know - “
She sat on the armrest of the bench, the only one waiting for a bus now. However, she had mace in her purse and she was completely fine with blinding anyone who messed with her. “I get that it’s always going to bother me. I wouldn’t want to be...desensitized to it. Like, I always want it to bother me. If that makes sense.”
Because where would she be if she was numb to all the terrible stuff in the world? Ruby didn’t want to become that detatched. She wanted to keep fighting the good fight.
For him, it all started because he was good at finding people. Geralt’s career begun solving several disappearance cases - and some in their own right were dank and depressing, but nothing got under his skin more than the reports that came across his desk, or the people that came in needing help. Hell, his days in homicide hadn’t even been that bothersome. Dead bodies were one thing (sounded shitty to say, but the detective had seen his share of the macabre); majority of his victims with this unit were alive, still breathing, and still suffering.
“You wanting a foot in the door for the career’s something you got going for you, if you really want to work here,” he told her. And for that he’d put in a good recommendation stemming from a first impression. It had nothing to do with her legs, or the coquettish way she spoke to him. Contrary to the belief of the smug, snickering bastards inside, he was sure. “Won’t go easy on you either if you’re assigned to my paperwork, keep that in mind too.”
Geralt was smirking. He only half-meant it. Expect him to be a little hard, Ruby (in whatever way).
“Good,” Ruby mirrored the smirk, a twist of rosy lips upward. She pushed off from where she was leaning on the bench’s armrest, stepping a little closer - the rugged handsome cop was pretty tall, but so was she. Slightly above-average for women, though wearing high heels didn’t hurt either. Still, she had to look up a wee tad which she liked. “Easy’s boring. I like it a little rough.”
In whatever way. Yep.
But with that in mind, she was really looking forward to the surprise bar get-together. Something for her to plan (she’d find an outfit in advance, definitely consult Kenzi who was her closest girly friend here) and conjure wild scenarios for. In the meantime, here came her bus so she had to go, sadly.
“Later, Geralt,” she wiggled her fingers in a goodbye. She’d be seeing him soon, no doubt.