_{‘     —    so it’s like  that.     ’       if she’s angling for a distraction,   he can commiserate ;   but this can’t be the right way to go about it.    she’s only been out of the hospital a few weeks.    shouldn’t even be on the  streets,   let alone working cases.    it’s another of those situations,   like the drinking,   like the  drugs,   that he has no control over :   when she wants to do something,   she’ll do it whether he gives her the green light or not.       ‘     ain’t  about  trust.    look,   you wanna call in a favor ?   fine.    but that’s  it,   y’ hear ?    don’t even  breathe  on this case unless it goes through me first.     ’}

^{‘ eighteen. ‘  she quickly corrects,  eyes darting down to her bare middle.  ‘ my shit ?  it’s just my stomach. ‘  & to prove her point,  she keeps the shirt raised, a clear act of defiance. she refuses to back down.  ‘ if you don’t want to do it,  that’s fine.  i’ll go get it pierced at some shop that charges way too much & requires a fucking birth certificate.  or .. you could stop treating me like a high school prostitute & help me out.  your pick.  but just so you know ..  i prefer the latter. ‘}

                  ^{she figures there’s no better place to wait for bullet than the overpass, if she was certain to show up anywhere, it was here. It took a few hours of waiting & patience ( which she doesn’t have much of, but the cheap pacman knock-off on her burner phone kept her entertained. ) when bullet enters her field of vision, she’s easy to spot, her short stature a dead giveaway.  ❛  hey!  ❜  she calls out, waiting until the girl notices her before approaching,  ❛  i’m back. — & i think it’s actually for good this time.  ❜  it’s not the first time she’s made such a claim only to be picked up and returned to her foster home ; she struggles to blend into the shadows of the city streets. ❛   — you HUNGRY?  ❜ her hand dives into her jacket pocket to retrieve a small wad of cash, discretely flashing the bills her way before tucking the money back into the safety of her coat.  ❛  my treat.  ❜  ( @junkyardteen )}

_{‘     that ain’t your  problem.    cases like this,   you know,   it ain’t rocket science    —    i worked bigger shitstorms at county.     ’       but as much as he’s loath to admit it,   she’s right.    people don’t talk to cops.    particularly not the kind of people he has to track down,   names or no names.    having a fully - functional bullshit detector doesn’t make it any less of a hassle when somebody gives him the runaround.    it gets old  fast.       ‘     you think them motherfuckers are gonna let a kid grill ‘em for intel ?    you start askin’ too many questions,   what d’you think’s gonna happen ?     ’}

^{fingers find the hem of her shirt,  wiggling the fabric a ‘lil.  ‘ niiiice.  but no. i … do NOT think i could pull that off.  i mean,  you look HOT as fuck.  but me ? .. nah. ‘  she brings her shirt up then,  exposing her bare stomach.  ‘ i was thinking more .. you know .. this. ‘  her eyes lower to her bellybutton,  before slowly rising;  meeting the other’s gaze once more.  ‘ wanna stick a needle in me ? ‘}

_{when it comes down to it,   he probably couldn’t shut her out now if he’d  wanted  to.    he doesn’t.    making no move to get past her,   it’s less annoyance and more a disinclination to let go of  choice  in any capacity ;   he can’t stop her from sniffing around,   and  that’s  what bothers him.    she’s too hard - headed for that.    too smart for her own good,   sometimes.       ‘     alright.    so gimme a name ‘n i’ll follow up on it.     ’}

^{@junkyardteen}

^{‘ i like it. ‘  a pause,  her head tilting;  eyes clearly staring at the silver that’s piercing the other’s brow.  ‘ do it yourself ? ‘}

                ^{❛  it is sick.  ❜  he takes note on her pun ( whether she meant to make one or not ),  ❛  but seriously, with everything that’s going on around here & — what happened to you, i think the less DEATH we talk about the better, even if that means crippling my number of conversation topics.  ❜  he shakes his head, letting out a weak laugh  ;  though shame does not manifest in him easily, he finds himself feeling more meek towards his QUIRKY, if not unnatural interest in serial killers, & the horror genre in general,  ❛  so, why don’t you throw a fact at me?  ❜}

_{it’s been a while since she busted out the nickname,   and there’s a fleeting few seconds where things are as they should be.    got him under my thumb.    he rounds the corner to where his car is parked,   keys in hand,   narrowly avoiding a  collision  because she won’t quit circling.       ‘     you ain’t on the payroll no more,   li’l man.    don’t want you gettin’ involved in this shit.     ’       didn’t work out so well the last time.       ‘     i don’t  know  what kinda debt.    homeboy didn’t seem like the gamblin’ type    —    loan - sharking,   maybe.     ’}

_{‘     case of me ‘n yo’  mama  playin’ late night marco - polo.     ’       tasteless,   but he’d rather resort to bad jokes than actually address the issue at hand.    as it turns out,   making her spend twelve hours in a holding cell didn’t have quite the  scared straight  effect he’d hoped.       ‘     —    some fool dumped by the waterfront,   somethin’ about  debts  or whatever.    i got a CI on it.     ’}