InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuurderrrrr"

Charlie Crews (i_zen) wrote in we_coexist,
@ 2009-07-03 17:26:00

Entry tags:

blind seer, charlie crews, firekeeper, harleen quinzel

So we meet again [Harley, Firekeeper/Blindseer if they wanna]
Charlie was feeling pretty good as he woke up that morning. He had a free scoop of ice cream out there waiting for him; it might have been a silly thing to be happy about, but how often did one get a free scoop of ice cream from a young lady? Not that he thought about her in such terms that might get him arrested, but she was a nice young lady; too many young men and women these days had problems with authority. Charlie had problems with authority, but it was of a different nature.

The detective showered, smiling the whole while, got ready for the day (clothes and such - no shoes yet), and went down to have his usual breakfast - some sort of fruit. He was curious to see what the City would bring to him; as he opened the door to the refrigerator, he took a moment to realize that he was happy. Happiness wasn't a bad thing, but he was happy in a prison. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the cool whiteness with what looked to be a couple fruits that didn't come from Earth at all. He was happy in a prison?

"I could be happy anywhere, or content. A prison is only in the mind. The world is not a prison unless I make it so." His voice took on that singsongy nature that he'd heard on the tapes, but it held questions. Was this true? Could he make a prison a place of content?

"I should find someone and discuss this. Wish Reese were here. Perhaps Jennifer?"

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i_lovemrj
2009-08-15 03:36 am UTC (link)

Harley had to put one hand on the floor in order to right herself, and it was not a gracefully executed thing. Truthfully if she wasn’t as flexible and athletic as she was, there was no way she could have pulled it off. And he was still holding her wrist. A little too hard for comfort.

So it was gonna be like that, huh? Fine. He wanted to play the bully, she’d let him. For now. It wasn’t like she didn’t have experience. Most men, Harley found, liked to think they were big and strong and macho. You play up to that, they underestimated you. They underestimated you, you could hit ‘em harder because they wouldn’t see it coming.

So she stood awkwardly, arm bent at an odd angle, with a patiently put-upon expression on her face. Which changed as he spoke, becoming instead an affronted scowl. How would he know if she was a criminal or not? He’d met her twice! And she hadn’t done anything bad either time. Well, not really bad. Who’d twisted up his undies?

“Hey!” she protested sharply, tugging unsubtly to get her wrist free. “I ain’t a criminal. Don’t go throwing around accusations that aren’t true!”

Then her voice turned coy, and she deliberately and blatantly batted her lashes at him, obviously insincere. “You know, if you wanted to hold hands, big guy, all you had to do was ask.”

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