WHO: Gretchen Watkins & Trevor Scabior WHAT: Gretchen's bored and has a question WHERE: Their office WHEN: 27 July evening WARNINGS/RATING/STATUS: This'll probably end in a fade to black, knowing them, plus liberal cursing and drinking/R/Complete!
Flipping through her journal, Gretchen tapped her fingers against the desk impatiently. The entry from that Asian fellow seemed sketchy, but Gretch could handle herself, she knew what to say and what not to say. At this point though, without more information from him, the conversation could go either way. Still, it paid to be prepared.
Trevor wasn't at home. She didn't think he was in the house, it had been entirely too quiet, and a quick check of the rooms he most frequently occupied confirmed that; the only being in the house other than her was Keg, sprawled on his back in the middle of his master's bed, snoring loudly.
Hoping he was at the office, Gretchen slid her feet into a pair of sandals and apparated out of the house. It was late enough that most people were gone from the shop, only the presence of Claudia and Gifford lounging amongst the books alerted her to the fact that Trevor was here. She nodded at them as she passed, hiding her smile when they subtly straightened up at the sight of her, and disappeared upstairs.
The door at the top of the steps was closed and she pushed her way in, rolling her eyes at the sight of Trevor, leaning back in his desk chair, dead asleep. Shutting the door behind her, she crossed the room and tugged her skirt up slightly, enough so she could comfortably straddle his lap. "Dreaming of me?" she murmured close to his ear, grinning.