ᴄʟᴇᴀɴᴇʀ (garcian) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-08-11 18:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !partner thread, garcian smith, olivia moore |
Who: Liv Moore & Garcian Smith
What: Liv comes by when Garcian's working to try to trigger a vision
When: Today?
Where: Crime scene, then a bar
Rating/Warnings: It's a murder scene so there's that
Status: Complete
When someone heard Garcian was a crime scene cleanup technician, the first thing they usually said was ‘you must have seen a lot of nasty shit.’ And you know what? He never disputed that. Because everytime he thought he’d seen it all, something else popped up that just made him boggle. Take now, for instance. When women killed their husbands, it was usually because of one of only a few reasons - he was cheating, he was abusive, or the wife was after a substantial insurance payoff. Hence why the spouse was always the first goddamn suspect in a murder. Very rarely was it an accident, like Susie Homemaker in Orange City was claiming. Guy had been doused with pepper spray at the top of the stairs, and subsequently pushed down. Then as if he wasn’t pretty much a goner from the tumble, he had his head beaten in with something large and heavy - that was kinda goddamn messy, but Ms. Susie tried to pass it off as an accident. Oh, he just fell down the stairs. Bullfuckingshit. Wasn’t Garcian’s problem, though. He’d gotten the call from his company and the all-clear from police, so he could go in and do his thing. See what could be salvaged and what had to be thrown away and of course, actually get some cleaning done. He’d just arrived and went down to the basement where the fucker had died - blood and guts splattered on the walls, on the banister, some even on the ceiling (what the shit?). Yep. Gonna be another long night, so he put on his gloves and began disinfecting, using chemicals to break down the bloodstains. While that sizzled and burned, he started picking through what he could put into sterile containers and save and what would have to be tossed. Not like he was very perturbed by this, though. In fact, he was mentally making a grocery list in his head while he worked. Liv needed to get into see the crime scene. It was the best way to trigger a vision. Sometimes one of the detectives would take her, but she was having no such luck today. So what did she do? Break in of course. Once she fairly certain no one would be around Liv made her way to the house where the man died in. The case seemed pretty cut and dry. Ms. Susie had pushed him down the stairs and bashed his head in but still Liv liked to be sure. She could see things the police sometimes missed. The second Liv entered the home it triggered a vision. Not of the murder but of the victim making out with the main suspect in the entry way. Not a huge shocker there. As usual she was so caught up in her vision that she didn’t here there was someone in the basement, doing his job no less. But that was exactly where Liv was headed. Nope, he definitely wasn’t alone - Garcian glanced up, hearing footsteps on the floor above. The basement door opened up to the kitchen, so whomever was in the house was about to find their way down here. Wasn’t the cops again, was it? But really, it had to be because it couldn’t be anyone else. Supposedly, Garcian thought he was the only one from the cleanup company working this job - though maybe he was wrong. Whatever. A hoe looked like it had been taken from the line of tools on the wall (ironic, especially if the husband was a cheater - oh wait, this was an accident) and used as the main murder weapon; Garcian was in the process of cleaning off the other tools, since they were all splattered with blood. Putting some away, tossing others completely. He’d get to the floor stains in a bit - those were always a bitch to get out. Plus, the cleaner had to break up those stains a little more anyway. “Thought you guys were done here,” he called, voice calm and smooth like alabaster. Like whiskey. It was rare that Liv got startled, but she wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here. As smooth as his voice was she still jumped. Yes, she was a medical examiner and could very easily give a valid reason for being there, but the jumping probably wouldn’t help with her cover. Still, Liv would do her best. “Who are you?” she asked as if he had no right to be there. Who knew, maybe he didn’t. But chances were he had more of a right than she did. Uh. Took a bit to actually surprise Garcian, but he hadn’t expected an intruder who looked like a porcelain doll either. Pale, real pale - but it was better than frying yourself in the sun, or a fake orange spray tan (the ‘president’ should make note of that). “‘M from the cleanup company,” he said, peeling off one of his gloves to reach for his ID. This was a legit job, so he had the legit credentials. If it had been a job for the other circles he ran in, this may not end so prettily. Those motherfuckers were supposed to make sure he didn’t get interrupted - Garcian hated being interrupted. “Here, if you’re coming in, be careful - I just put down chemicals.” He extended his hand to help her down and past the wreckage. “And who the hell are you?” Oh right, the clean up crew. Liv was usually around before the crime scene got cleaned up. She sometimes forgot about them. Okay, she often forgot about them. Especially when she seemed to be on the brain of an alcoholic. Or at least a very heavy drinker. “Medical examiner,” Liv replied letting him help her down to the basement. “You wouldn’t have happened to see a bracelet?” Yeah, she didn’t really lose a bracelet. She didn’t even wear bracelets. But it was a valid reason for her to show back up again. As for her credentials, of course she had them with her, but she didn’t feel the need to show him just yet. Acting like she had nothing to hide was the best way to go, even if she had jumped moments ago. “Medical examiner,” Garcian repeated, nodding. Did he believe it? Well, maybe. Maybe not. The medical examiner usually came when, you know, there was actually a body to examine. Right now it was just him and the scent of blood and gore. Still, if she lost something, he guessed he couldn’t blame her for coming back to check if it was here. Retrieving a fresh glove, he snapped it on and resumed his work. Now that the floor could be cleaned easier it was time to do some scrubbing. “Nope, no bracelet though. At least not yet. Name’s Garcian,” he introduced himself. “Did you get a good look at the dead guy? Shitty way to go.” Pretty much overkill, in his mind. Obviously, Susie Homemaker (who was innocent, she swore) wanted the victim to really fuckin’ suffer. “Liv,” a pause before she gave her full name. “Moore.” Yes she had heard all the jokes and she did in fact know how ironic it was considering she was technically dead. Or undead as it were. But Garcian didn’t know that little tidbit. “Brutal way to go,” Liv added to his comment. Not that is phased her much. At least the brains were still intact. “Comes with the job.” Seeing fucked up murders. “I’m sure you’re used to it by now. Unless this is your first crime scene?” Liv was making small talk but she was looking around the room trying to trigger another vision. Most of the brain was still intact. Some of it was splattered on the floor, being cleaned up by Garcian currently, but otherwise? Yeah, Mr. Susie went to the morgue with everything where it should be. It didn’t really phase him much either though, so they seemed to have that in common. That may speak to deeper things, however. For Garcian, he was just too desensitized. “Been doing this for years,” he snorted a laugh, thinking back to when he initially started out. Seemed like forever ago. “I can’t even remember my first crime scene. Can remember some that really stick out though. This ain’t even the worst of it.” He had stories. Plenty of them. “But good to meet you, Liv. You find your bracelet?” “Tell me about it,” Liv agreed. Like Garcian she had seen worse. Bodies and crime scenes. Even if she had only been doing this for a little over a year now. “Enough to drive a girl to drink.” It seemed like anything would be enough to drive her to drink at the moment. Clearly Mr. Susie was an alcoholic. She had already forgotten her excuse to be here. So when he mentioned the bracelet it took her a moment to realize and respond. “Nope,” she finally said still looking around. No visions either. “I must have left it somewhere else,” a frown appeared on her face. Not so much because she lost her non-existent bracelet. Because of her lack of visions. It could be so frustrating sometimes. She got visions when she didn’t want to and then didn’t get them when she wanted to. Oh well, that’s life. “Can’t argue with that,” Garcian readily concurred - because after a long night of scraping concrete where human remains once stained, he sometimes needed something to take the edge off. He didn’t really have many vices though - occasionally he drank, sure, but he didn’t really smoke (sometimes socially) and he didn’t go around fucking anything on two legs either. More like he just...buried it. Kept it locked away inside. Which wasn’t particularly healthy, but he really didn’t have another way to deal with everything. The crime scene was looking better. It still had this air of creepiness to it, but that was to be expected. Someone had been murdered here. “Well, fuck this,” he bagged up the hazardous trash and twisted everything shut, getting ready to take this all to be properly disposed of. “I’m about ready for that drink - what about you?” Not like he invited strange women out for drinks often, but they were both here, so why not? Well as long as she wasn’t getting any visions she might as well go get a drink. She could really use a drink. Even if it really wouldn’t do much for her. She was craving one. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” She also wasn’t in the habit of going out to drink with strange men. But hey, they were sort of coworkers. Besides drinking with a stranger sure as hell beat drinking alone. That shit was just sad. Liv was already heading back toward the stairs to leave the basement, pausing before she reached the first step. “Do you help?” Gathering the supplied she meant. She wasn’t usually that helpful but the sooner her got his shit together, the sooner she’d get her drink. Didn’t need to ask her twice, huh? Well, alright, he appreciated the enthusiasm. Maybe she just really liked alcohol. “Nah, I’m good, but here - “ He took out his phone, now that his hands weren’t covered by gloves, “Give me your number and I’ll text you the address. The place I’m thinking of’s not far from here. I just have to drop some things off first.” And probably change clothes. “You can meet me there, if that works?” It was a bar with over 140 types of beer on tap (taps even regularly cleaned, imagine that) and good cocktails, and also a distinct crunch when you walked in due to your feet stepping on discarded peanut shells. But it gave the place character. And the salty men in flip-flops wouldn’t bother Liv if she was with a hulking black guy. People tended to avoid Garcian like the plague, but he was used to that too. Ah right. That made more sense. She figured she’d just follow in her car, but if he had to drop things off? Following a strange to his place might not be the best idea. Even if she did have ‘full-on zombie mode’ to fall back on. But she’d prefer to not to, she wasn’t a particular fan of raging out like that. Plus this way she would get her drink quicker. “Works for me,” Liv replied before giving her number. “See you there,” hopefully he showed, but if not? At least Liv had a new bar to check out. Arriving at the bar Liv made her way over to a set of two stools, doing her best to save one for Garcian while she waited. But what she wasn’t going to wait for? A drink. There was quite the selection of beer but that wasn’t of much interest to her. Instead she ordered herself a “Hot Blooded’ and was pleased that the bartender actually knew what it was - whiskey, jalapeño, agave, and blood orange juice. That would do while she waited. It’d be rude to not show up and Garcian was a lot of things, but he wasn’t rude. He was generally a kind person, unless goaded to the point of no return. But he showed up at the bar, fresh clothes and free from any remnants of his day job (sometimes night job - he worked odd hours), and he slid onto a stool next to Liv. “Interesting choice,” he remarked about her adult beverage. For him, he went with a White Russian - it wasn’t always the best thing to order in a bar but he knew this place, and he knew he could trust the milk. That it wasn’t past its expiration date. “You must have a high tolerance for spicy things.” She was a small woman too, but yet likely not a lightweight when it came to holding her liquor. Girl looked perfectly at ease holding that lighter fluid in a glass. “And so what do you do when you’re not checking out murder scenes?” he asked as he received his drink, sloshing it to get it mixed and cloudy. More like spicy things were the only things she could tolerate. “Something like that,” Liv said with a smirk. As for her tolerance for alcohol? It had didn’t have much of an effect on her. If she did act drunk it was likely more the traits of the brain she had just eaten than anything. Ah, that was the question. What did she do. It varied. “Depends on my mood.” More like her diet. “I’ve been known to do many things, paint, skateboard, do magic, play video games, basketball…” to name a few. But as for Liv in general? She usually preferred a quiet evening at home, with a good book or watching TV with her friends. She had never really been the party type. “What do you do when you’re not cleaning up a murder scene?” “Magic?” Garcian lifted an eyebrow. That was a long ways off from skateboarding - as in, the two weren’t related at all. But hey, nothing wrong with having a wide array of hobbies - he really didn’t have many himself. “What, like card tricks and shit? Or do you pull rabbits from hats?” Maybe she shot fire from her hands. Wasn’t that the kind of magic that took place around here? His interests weren’t so varied, unfortunately. “I’ve taken to going to the shooting range a lot,” he said, sipping his drink. “It’s good stress relief. Been having bad dreams lately, must be something in the air.” If he ever saw a Heaven Smile around here? Fuck, that would be the beginning of the end. There was something distinctly off about the United States he dreamed of, the time period he dreamed of, like it was some acid trip followed by feverish delusions. She was well aware that actual magic existed here. But that was not what she was talking about. It’d be nice, although she didn’t really need it being undead and all. As long as her brains remained intact she would be fine. “Actually it was rats out of a hat. I have three. So you know, more convenient.” She wasn’t about to go buy a rabbit for to do a magic trick when she knew in a matter of weeks she’d be over it already. “I did do some card tricks too.” It had been a while though. If Garcian asked her to do any now she wasn’t sure she could. It went away with the brain. “Shooting range sounds fun,” she commented taking a sip of her drink. It was the one thing she hadn’t tried yet. But she wasn’t like against guns or anything. “Ah, dreams.” She knew about those all too well. “Anything interesting?” Rats, not a typical pet. Though Garcian thought the idea of having them was cropping up for more people, just here and there. They were becoming more popular these days. “They’re pretty affectionate, aren’t they?” he guessed, since that’s what he’d heard. “Actually, the ‘range’ is kinda this field in the middle of nowhere. A friend of mine owns a bar and brought a bunch of bottles we could use for targets,” he explained. “Less prying eyes, when you wanna go out there and really not deal with anyone else. You should try it sometime.” As for his dreams, well, he wasn’t sure if other people would think they were interesting - he knew they were fucked up, that was about it. Liquid courage, a swallow of his drink before he gave this shit a whirl. “I have dreams where I’m the leader of an assassin syndicate. There are seven of us, and we go on various assignments - mostly we’re taking out these things called Smiles, they were created as part of a terrorist organization. They’ve infested the world.” “Depends on the rat,” specifically in her case. Two of the Hopes were zombie rats. But no need to get into that now. “But they are good pets.” Even though she had to buy other rats to feed to the zombie ones. She would never sacrifice her other Hope. “You do make it sound appealing.” Although she had been intrigued since the first mention. “But see, I don’t know any fields in the middle of nowhere with bottles laying around. I’ll have to go to an actual gun range.” Unless he wanted to take her, hint hint. Because, who didn’t go shoot guns in the middle of nowhere with someone they had just met an hour ago? … And apparently dreamed of being an assassin - not like she could talk. She was a zombie. “Well,” Liv paused to take another sip of her dream. “That definitely does sound interesting.” She wasn’t lying either. “Dreaming of all the killing can’t be pleasant.” She knew how much of a downer the dreams could be. “But at least you’re killing bad guys.” “Killing to keep the peace,” Garcian smirked. Not that it mattered much - the world was on the brink of nuclear war anyway. Either Japan would destroy everything, or the United States would. That was just how things worked. There would always be wars, always be fighting, always be death - wasn’t like it shocked humanity anymore, especially since they brought it upon themselves. “I can also bring back the dead,” he shrugged. “Not sure how, or why it’s me. But I’m the one who collects the bodies of my crew, if something happens, and can bring them back to life.” That type of talk could get reeeeeeeal depressing though (even for drunkards in a bar just finished with hanging out at a murder scene) so he kept it to a minimum. “I’ll show you the range sometime,” he added, since yeah, he could take a hint. “What about you, any weird dreams?” “That’s an interesting talent to have.” She knew someone else that could do that as well. Became a problem when he visited her at the morgue though. “And useful,” at least in his dreams it sounded like. “Are they liked changed when they come back?” She was curious especially given that she was technically undead. “I have dreams about zombies,” she said casually taking a sip of her drink. She was purposely leaving out the fact that she was a zombie. That wasn’t something you really opened with. Hell even opening up about the dreams wasn’t exactly normal. Zombies, huh? Garcian glanced at her, considering. Was she - no. Liv Moore, medical examiner and zombie? Couldn’t be. He was letting the bullshit of the OC get to him. Just because he’d sort of found a client in a vampire, who was willing to pay him big bucks to clean up after her meals and wipe away the evidence, didn’t mean there were more supernatural creatures wandering around. “Nah,” he shook his head. “They ain’t changed when they come back. They’re fine.” Right as rain and all that. “I don’t even know where that ability came from.” Well. It was actually a power he’d absorbed via his third eye, from Harman, but there were so many holes in Garcian’s memories. He couldn’t remember that, or Harman actually being dead, or anything else beyond simply being a part of the Smith Syndicate. So fucking bizarre. “Your dreams sound wild too, Liv. This is a weird place to be, ain’t it?” That was an understatement. “No side effects? I’m a little jealous.” She would have love to come back without being a zombie. But there wasn’t much she could do about it. At least she was able to do some form of good, help solve crimes. But still. She’d prefer not to eat brains, thanks. How she missed regular food, and actually tasting things other than hot sauce. Ah, so he was at least aware of the weirdness. Well she figured he had to be given he mentioned the dreams. “It is,” she agreed. “But who wants normal? I tried living somewhere else, came back after only two months.” Granted she was dumped but no need to get into that. “No side effects,” he confirmed. “I’d say I’d show you, but you don’t wanna give me a reason to try it out.” Garcian didn’t want her to keel over and die (or, in the case of the Smith’s, get attacked by some crazy-ass monster called a Smile) - that sounded traumatic for all involved. “I’ll just show you the best place to blow off some steam when things get not normal, how’s that?” And he clinked his glass against hers. Little did he know she was already dead. She highly doubted his power could turn her back into a human. She left that comment as it was moving on to his next statement. “Sounds like a plan,” Liv agreed with a smile clinking her glass in return. Olivia Moore, making friends wherever she went. Crime scenes included. |