Post by Molly Byrne on May 27, 2016 15:27:42 GMT
M: Yes. She had missed his call. Her phone was on vibrate and had been tossed aside as she crawled back to the door way to peer into her room. The one that Adam had painted such a pretty yellow after she made some innocent quip about the walls being drab. And the new area rug she had picked up at one of those discount dealers - because Molly always shopped bargains and discounts - now had blood stains. How had she let that happen? She probably could have chased the guy out or called the cops or something, but no. Instead she took a bat to his face and called her brother. How many more missions would she need to go on now to clean her soul again? Whenever he came home, after what would seem like nothing more than an instant to the tiny pixie, the Byrne with all the height and width would fine the Byrne with none kneeling in her door way. Hands pressed together, fingers against her lips, a small rock back and forth. Words in Latin on repeat, quick and quiet. Praying for the dead soul before her and the bloodied one she carried. [d]
A: She missed his call. And the next one, and the next one, until after the fourth he'd flung his phone across the cab of his truck; where it'd hit the passenger window with a dead thunk and dropped into the seat. The cops he passed as he sped from the Pony, to his home, seemed to be the sort that knew the truck that took the highway at speeds it shouldn't, and therefore he made it home in record breaking time. Her Bug was in the drive, just where she'd left it. Killing the lights on the Denali, he pulled in behind her and killed the engine. No lights on that he could see, but you generally couldn't see the ones from the bedroom from the drive. Leaning, he found the phone he'd tossed, and more than that. The semi-automatic pistol in the glove compartment fit so well in his hand. But it was tucked into the back of his pants -- instinct told him he might need it, but experience told him that Molly would freak if she saw it, so he hid it for now. Up to the door -- found it shut, but not locked. He always told her to lock it when she was home alone, even if she was expecting him soon after. It barely creaked when it was pushed open, and as much mass as he took up, his steps were silent too on his creep into the too quiet house. But he could smell the blood before he saw her, though seeing her swept relief through his bones like heat. "Molly," his voice was a quiet thing, from several steps away still. Just in case. -d-
M: Did she hear him pull into the drive? Nope. Open the door? No again. But the sound of her name had the rocking stop and her eyes opening. Hands fell to her lap but she didn't stand up just yet. See, even though Adam had probably seen her cry thousands of times, she still hated acting like a wounded animal around him. Lord knows life had gotten the best of both of them at times and he didn't need her to be a distraction. A big, long breath was taken in through her nose, expanding a little chest, and if he was still moving towards her she'd push herself up to stand just as he reached her. Turning to face him, he'd see the marks on her neck and the ugly knot of a bruise forming on the left side of her face near her jawline. Blood spattered on her face and her arms, but none of it was hers. There were some minor cuts and scrapes on her knees, and the bottoms of her hands that were lifted as she started explaining what had happened in rapid detail. "I'm so sorry. I didn' think yeh'd want the cops 'ere. I know, I know yeh are doin'... t'ings.. but I didn'know what t'do. I got 'ome and 'e was 'ere. In yer room an' I t'ought it was you at firs'but it wasn'. It was up an'then down and I kneed 'im in t'e man parts an' got the bat. But he was really strong an'he 'ad 'is 'ands on me t'roat but he missed the second time and I got 'im. But t'en I couldn'stop. Please. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up." Because that's what he was going to be worried about, right? "Do yeh think they'll take me in?" Most likely there she meant the cops. [d]
A: Was he breathing? How long had he even watched her kneel there, rocking and praying before he said her name? How long had she waited to start to stand. He hadn't moved, even though she stood. Hadn't filled his lungs with air -- but did now, now that she started speaking. Reaching for the light switch just at his left, he flooded the hallway with light and really saw her. Saw what had happened to her face, to her knees. Saw the blood. It wrenched something tight in his chest, and vision swung back to her face as she asked that question. "What?" It sounded lame, even to his own ears, and he took one step to close the distance between them; taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger gingerly and lifting her face to gently tilt it to the side to see her jaw. See the marks on her neck. "Moll, what are you saying?" Because he hadn't seen it yet, not with the body of the would be robber in her bedroom. "Nobody's taking you anywhere." Right about now, that was the only thing he was fucking sure of. -d-
M: The light hit her eyes and she winced a little. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there in the dark, but the light suddenly seemed like an assault to her already irritated senses. But when he reached out to take her chin in his fingers, there was no flinching or backing away. There were two things Molly had faith in in this world. One was that God would one day forgive her. More importantly, however, she knew her brother would never harm her in anyway. Even since before their parents were taken, he was her protector. She always tried to be his, but he was much better in such a role. She often just tried to be his voice of reason before things got too out of hand. Hands fell back to her sides, those big browns never once leaving Adam's face as he looked her over. "Even t'ough 'e's dead?" She whispered when he assured her she wasn't going anywhere. "I mean I t'ink 'e is. I can't 'ear 'im breathing anymore." At that point she stepped back away from him, just out of the doorway so he could look in.. and see the man in black lying on that beautiful new rug Molly had been so excited over. Blood pooled at the man's head, most likely a decent dent in his skull from the repeated hits. Typically her bed was precisely made, with tucked corners and everything, but it seemed jostled and unkempt. "'E said 'e just wanted t'make me sleep. But t'en I kneed 'im an'e told me 'e'd gut me so.. I.." Did she really need to finisht that statement? [d]
A: Even though he's dead. It was that statement that seemed to call his attention, and she'd bear witness to when the light went on in his head, though his face sharply lifted so that he could see beyond her and into the room. See the body there. Bigger than her. See the blood spreading around his head, soaking into her brand new rug. "Christ, Moll," he breathed out, his hands falling away from her so that he could move past her and into the room. "So you .. " It was just an echo of her words, spoken as he circled around what he could of the body. The strength of his back to her, Adam dropped into a crouch; reaching for the mask that was worn. His shirt lifted just enough to reveal the Glock he'd shoved in the waistband of his pants. The ski mask was wet with blood, but it lifted easily and he pushed it from the man's face. Wide eyes stared back at him, and shock on the face meant the man died more then surprised that the little Pixie had it in her. Call it morbid curiosity, but he pushed it up further and saw the way she'd used that bat and caved in a good portion of the skull. Grey matter mixed with blood and broken bits of skull and matted hair. A grimace, and he shifted to look back at her. "Said he'd gut you, did he? Not my Moll. You did good, girl. You're standin' here, a little worse for wear, but I taught you well. Scared the hell out of me," he'd only admit a thing like that to her. Reaching further, the ruined rug was flipped some, so it covered up the damage she'd done. "Can ya tell me anymore? He give any indication of who he was?" Time to root through the pockets. First things first, wallet. "Harvey Fuller," Adam recited once he had the cheap velcro thing opened. -d-
M: Ah there was the damn lightbulb in his head. The sudden realization that was maybe not what he had been expecting to hear made her blink. The 'So you...' even though it had not been a question or a hook for more information, she gave it up anyway. "So I 'it 'im wit t'e bat." Words still offered in rapid succession. One hand pressed to the frame of the door, feet remaining just outside, but she watched as he crouched down and started to go for the mask. The Glock had his side, once it was peeking from beneath his shirt, had her gasping just a touch. No. She wasn't a fan of guns. Knew they served a purpose in some circles, but she still hated the sight of them. The more the mask was lifted from his face and those brown eyes saw the damage she had done, the less able she was to stay collected. There was a hitch in her breath and she turned, covering her mouth as she gagged. Maybe now she could smell the blood on her hands or the pieces of flesh stuck up under the ski mask. "I didn'mean t'kill 'im. I swear. Please don'let them take me in again.." Oh the tears were brimming again on the rim of her eyes, threatening to come out at any second. There was a shake of her head. "'E just said 'e wanted cash. Jus' a little cash. I told you t'ey would come 'ere. I knew t;ey would make their way down here." [d]
A: The admission, however unnecessary, flickered his gaze to the bat on the ground, and then back to the Florida issued drivers license for Harvey Fuller inside the clear plastic just inside the wallet. No, Adam hadn't missed the way Molly'd turned, and gagged -- reacting to the reveal that he'd tried to shield from her and perhaps she had the same sort of morbid curiosity that her brother possessed. "I know, little bit," he spoke almost absently as she began again, because his attention was on rifling through the front pocket of the guys pants. There was something in there, and it felt too familiar. Pulling the little baggies free, Molly's words whipped his head to the side before he could see exactly what was in his hand. "Stop it. If you think for one damned minute you'll go anywhere, you're sadly mistaken, Clara Margaret. We'll take care of this. No one need know a thing. No one need know he was ever here." Dark eyes focused hard on the shape of her shoulders, since she'd yet to turn back around, but a glance away and to the contents of his hand had him standing slowly. "... Fuck. Scratch that. No one need know you were the one who dealt the blows." That fucking stamp. "Molly," he was on the move now, to come to stand before her so she didn't have to turn around. "I'm going to call some people to come here. I want you to go get in the shower. Clean the blood from ya." -d-
M: It was a morbid curiosity. It wasn't the first dead body she saw, and not the first one she had beaten with a bat. Though the first guy had not died by Molly's hands in the end. This one was the first she had killed. And it didn't really sit all that well with 'Sister' Molly. One more quick peek at poor Harvey Fuller. Bet he never thought he'd be beaten to death by a woman half your size. Swallowing that awful taste that had started to creep up into her mouth, Molly just nodded a little bit. "Ok, ok," words laced with exasperation and a sudden hit of exhaustion. And pain. It was just now that she was starting to feel the aches in her jaw and the knot in her head. A hand came up to touch her own neck just as he came to stand before her. She didn't see the baggies, and thus she did not inquire about them. "Can.. can you fish out the old Linfield jersey from me top drawer?" That damn thing was about a decade old at this point. "An'..an' me shorts? I don't'ink I can go in t'ere right now." But at least she was willing to listen and get showered. "Yeh 'ave cleaners, don'yeh?" You know, like the kind that clean up messes like this on a regular basis. Normally associated with people who partake in criminal activities on a regular basis. Eyes lifted from the floor, slowly up to his face to watch his answer. Her question may have been slightly specific to the idea of cleaners, but if he said yes she'd have a pretty good idea of the other things. She might not act like she knows a lot about this sort of thing, but she does. Sam thinks she's completely in the dark and blind to all sorts of things, but that's because Molly chose to be at this point in her life. It didn't mean she didn't know things. Like Adam had said, she wasn't a stranger to it all. "What do I tell people when t'ey ask about me face?" [d]
A: Sliding the handful of drugs into his front pocket while she was focused on his face, he gave her a half smile that was meant to be reassuring. When she touched at the bruises already forming on her skin, he took her wrist gently, and pulled her close -- so when she made her requests and asked her question, it was in his strong hug. "You'll take a day or two from the Dive. And then we'll say you ... fought off a crazed shopper at a Memorial Day sale." Oh. Okay. That's a thing. "Or you've joined a real physical zumba class. I'll get the clothes." That only left her point blank question. He could blow it off, say he was only going to call Tomas to help him clear away the body, and then clean it up himself, but .. that's not how this worked. She needed an answer, and she needed the truth. "Yes, Moll," he spoke softly; dipping his head to brush a soft kiss against the top of her chestnut hair, and then he let her go and moved back into the room that stank of a violent death. Finding the items she wanted was easy, and they were soon pushed into her hands. -d-
M: Her words were muffled against his chest, but truthfully she didn't mind. He could feel her shoulders relax when he pulled her in, resting the flat of her right cheek against him. While there was no sobbing, that would probably be saved for the shower because really the best crying always happens in the shower, he could probably feel the few tears that managed to sneak their way from her eyes. As she listened to his instructions, she nodded slightly, for the moment pretty content to let herself fold up against him. The idea that she fought off a crazed shopper did elicit a subtle, quiet laugh. "Or I jus'fell up t'e stairs t'yer door. T'at might be more believable.." There was no reaction when he answered truthfully. Maybe it was a selfish response - feeling a little lucky this little incident might not have to leave the confines of a small group of people her brother trusted - but she also did not seem surprised. Too many little things all added up. When he moved back, she swiped at her eyes and tried to sniffle back any snot that was about to come from her nose. "T'anks.." She whispered when he handed her her things. "I guess it's a good t'ing I came 'ere, then." [d]
A: "Tell 'em whatever you wanna, my love. Won't matter a thing what they think." She took her clothing from him, and what she said next had a frown pulling at his mouth and he found himself watching her face. Thinking back to every moment they'd been in a situation like this, where her tears stained his shirt. Whether it was over small school girl crushes, to the death of their parents and the biggest change they'd had to make in their young lives. To the hardness of their grandparents farm, to a young woman's love and it's eventual loss, and to the thing they never spoke about that had her running from continent to continent. And now. After some asshole broke his way into Adam's own home, and threatened the life of the only good in his life and she'd proven once again that she was stronger than she ever thought she could be. "Molly," he began so she'd look at him; sliding a hand to cup the uninjured side of her face. "You can come and you can go, and you always will. You can search across this globe to find signs that God sees you, that God has forgiven you for things that were out of your control. But I see you, Moll. I know there's nothing for you to need forgivin' for. Yeah, it's a good thing you came here. It's the only place I'd have ya, if the choice were mine." -d-
M: "But at least t'ey'd stop askin' questions if I be jus' a clumsy fairy." And it was true, too. Leave everyone else of of the picture, Molly fell up some steps while looking at her phone or something. She had started to step passed him, towards the bathroom - that she had also brightened up, by the way, with teal and yellow - but he spoke her name and she turned again. Goddamnit. She was trying so hard to not let any more tears from from those lackluster browns. Lips remained in a straight little line, but the singular dimple was present as a sign she was gnawing on the inside of her cheek. "Sometimes I believe t'at. An' sometimes I don'. An'now I believe it a little bit less. But for some reason, 'e lead me back 'ere." There was a rise and lift of her shoulders, a quick little breath and a shake of her head. But then her lips were upturning into a smile. "An' truthfully I t'ink it's so someone can watch over yer unruly arse. Make sure yeh don'.. do anyt'in too stupid." Like get yourself killed, Addy. "So I t'ink yer stuck with me." Up she went on tiptoes, barely reaching his cheek with her lips. "Yeh know if anytin' 'appened t'yeh I'd jus'beat yeh m'self... apparently I'm good wit a bat." The words lacked their usual pixie flair, but she was trying. There was no need to distract him from whatever game he was playing out there. That she knew for certain. She as going to need to put on her big girl pants and get on with it. [d]
A: "Later, when this is all over, we'll go light a candle for his soul," he spoke it softly, so she'd know he didn't mean the man who lay dead in her bedroom. Her quip earned her a soft snort from her brother, and he leaned down to help when she came upon her toes to smear a kiss to his cheek. It was her joke though, that had him groaning out loud, and raising a hand to his heart like she'd wounded him with just how bad a joke that was. "Ohhh, too soon, Moll. Too soon." A soft swat was made at her, to get her in motion. "Go on then. Get clean. Once I make this call, things will go quickly." And they did, to wrap this up so JR can nap. Alone, he let himself have a few minutes of anger; quietly seething over the dead body in the bedroom. But the calls had to be made, and were. By the time Clara Margaret was done with her shower, the house had a few more visitors -- men she'd not yet officially met, but always seemed to be with Adam when he was out in public. Men who would protect her as if they were him, and could even end up lifelong friends. If she likened herself friends with meathead criminals. They'd get rid of the body, and every trace of blood, every print, every trace of DNA. -d-
A: She missed his call. And the next one, and the next one, until after the fourth he'd flung his phone across the cab of his truck; where it'd hit the passenger window with a dead thunk and dropped into the seat. The cops he passed as he sped from the Pony, to his home, seemed to be the sort that knew the truck that took the highway at speeds it shouldn't, and therefore he made it home in record breaking time. Her Bug was in the drive, just where she'd left it. Killing the lights on the Denali, he pulled in behind her and killed the engine. No lights on that he could see, but you generally couldn't see the ones from the bedroom from the drive. Leaning, he found the phone he'd tossed, and more than that. The semi-automatic pistol in the glove compartment fit so well in his hand. But it was tucked into the back of his pants -- instinct told him he might need it, but experience told him that Molly would freak if she saw it, so he hid it for now. Up to the door -- found it shut, but not locked. He always told her to lock it when she was home alone, even if she was expecting him soon after. It barely creaked when it was pushed open, and as much mass as he took up, his steps were silent too on his creep into the too quiet house. But he could smell the blood before he saw her, though seeing her swept relief through his bones like heat. "Molly," his voice was a quiet thing, from several steps away still. Just in case. -d-
M: Did she hear him pull into the drive? Nope. Open the door? No again. But the sound of her name had the rocking stop and her eyes opening. Hands fell to her lap but she didn't stand up just yet. See, even though Adam had probably seen her cry thousands of times, she still hated acting like a wounded animal around him. Lord knows life had gotten the best of both of them at times and he didn't need her to be a distraction. A big, long breath was taken in through her nose, expanding a little chest, and if he was still moving towards her she'd push herself up to stand just as he reached her. Turning to face him, he'd see the marks on her neck and the ugly knot of a bruise forming on the left side of her face near her jawline. Blood spattered on her face and her arms, but none of it was hers. There were some minor cuts and scrapes on her knees, and the bottoms of her hands that were lifted as she started explaining what had happened in rapid detail. "I'm so sorry. I didn' think yeh'd want the cops 'ere. I know, I know yeh are doin'... t'ings.. but I didn'know what t'do. I got 'ome and 'e was 'ere. In yer room an' I t'ought it was you at firs'but it wasn'. It was up an'then down and I kneed 'im in t'e man parts an' got the bat. But he was really strong an'he 'ad 'is 'ands on me t'roat but he missed the second time and I got 'im. But t'en I couldn'stop. Please. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up." Because that's what he was going to be worried about, right? "Do yeh think they'll take me in?" Most likely there she meant the cops. [d]
A: Was he breathing? How long had he even watched her kneel there, rocking and praying before he said her name? How long had she waited to start to stand. He hadn't moved, even though she stood. Hadn't filled his lungs with air -- but did now, now that she started speaking. Reaching for the light switch just at his left, he flooded the hallway with light and really saw her. Saw what had happened to her face, to her knees. Saw the blood. It wrenched something tight in his chest, and vision swung back to her face as she asked that question. "What?" It sounded lame, even to his own ears, and he took one step to close the distance between them; taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger gingerly and lifting her face to gently tilt it to the side to see her jaw. See the marks on her neck. "Moll, what are you saying?" Because he hadn't seen it yet, not with the body of the would be robber in her bedroom. "Nobody's taking you anywhere." Right about now, that was the only thing he was fucking sure of. -d-
M: The light hit her eyes and she winced a little. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there in the dark, but the light suddenly seemed like an assault to her already irritated senses. But when he reached out to take her chin in his fingers, there was no flinching or backing away. There were two things Molly had faith in in this world. One was that God would one day forgive her. More importantly, however, she knew her brother would never harm her in anyway. Even since before their parents were taken, he was her protector. She always tried to be his, but he was much better in such a role. She often just tried to be his voice of reason before things got too out of hand. Hands fell back to her sides, those big browns never once leaving Adam's face as he looked her over. "Even t'ough 'e's dead?" She whispered when he assured her she wasn't going anywhere. "I mean I t'ink 'e is. I can't 'ear 'im breathing anymore." At that point she stepped back away from him, just out of the doorway so he could look in.. and see the man in black lying on that beautiful new rug Molly had been so excited over. Blood pooled at the man's head, most likely a decent dent in his skull from the repeated hits. Typically her bed was precisely made, with tucked corners and everything, but it seemed jostled and unkempt. "'E said 'e just wanted t'make me sleep. But t'en I kneed 'im an'e told me 'e'd gut me so.. I.." Did she really need to finisht that statement? [d]
A: Even though he's dead. It was that statement that seemed to call his attention, and she'd bear witness to when the light went on in his head, though his face sharply lifted so that he could see beyond her and into the room. See the body there. Bigger than her. See the blood spreading around his head, soaking into her brand new rug. "Christ, Moll," he breathed out, his hands falling away from her so that he could move past her and into the room. "So you .. " It was just an echo of her words, spoken as he circled around what he could of the body. The strength of his back to her, Adam dropped into a crouch; reaching for the mask that was worn. His shirt lifted just enough to reveal the Glock he'd shoved in the waistband of his pants. The ski mask was wet with blood, but it lifted easily and he pushed it from the man's face. Wide eyes stared back at him, and shock on the face meant the man died more then surprised that the little Pixie had it in her. Call it morbid curiosity, but he pushed it up further and saw the way she'd used that bat and caved in a good portion of the skull. Grey matter mixed with blood and broken bits of skull and matted hair. A grimace, and he shifted to look back at her. "Said he'd gut you, did he? Not my Moll. You did good, girl. You're standin' here, a little worse for wear, but I taught you well. Scared the hell out of me," he'd only admit a thing like that to her. Reaching further, the ruined rug was flipped some, so it covered up the damage she'd done. "Can ya tell me anymore? He give any indication of who he was?" Time to root through the pockets. First things first, wallet. "Harvey Fuller," Adam recited once he had the cheap velcro thing opened. -d-
M: Ah there was the damn lightbulb in his head. The sudden realization that was maybe not what he had been expecting to hear made her blink. The 'So you...' even though it had not been a question or a hook for more information, she gave it up anyway. "So I 'it 'im wit t'e bat." Words still offered in rapid succession. One hand pressed to the frame of the door, feet remaining just outside, but she watched as he crouched down and started to go for the mask. The Glock had his side, once it was peeking from beneath his shirt, had her gasping just a touch. No. She wasn't a fan of guns. Knew they served a purpose in some circles, but she still hated the sight of them. The more the mask was lifted from his face and those brown eyes saw the damage she had done, the less able she was to stay collected. There was a hitch in her breath and she turned, covering her mouth as she gagged. Maybe now she could smell the blood on her hands or the pieces of flesh stuck up under the ski mask. "I didn'mean t'kill 'im. I swear. Please don'let them take me in again.." Oh the tears were brimming again on the rim of her eyes, threatening to come out at any second. There was a shake of her head. "'E just said 'e wanted cash. Jus' a little cash. I told you t'ey would come 'ere. I knew t;ey would make their way down here." [d]
A: The admission, however unnecessary, flickered his gaze to the bat on the ground, and then back to the Florida issued drivers license for Harvey Fuller inside the clear plastic just inside the wallet. No, Adam hadn't missed the way Molly'd turned, and gagged -- reacting to the reveal that he'd tried to shield from her and perhaps she had the same sort of morbid curiosity that her brother possessed. "I know, little bit," he spoke almost absently as she began again, because his attention was on rifling through the front pocket of the guys pants. There was something in there, and it felt too familiar. Pulling the little baggies free, Molly's words whipped his head to the side before he could see exactly what was in his hand. "Stop it. If you think for one damned minute you'll go anywhere, you're sadly mistaken, Clara Margaret. We'll take care of this. No one need know a thing. No one need know he was ever here." Dark eyes focused hard on the shape of her shoulders, since she'd yet to turn back around, but a glance away and to the contents of his hand had him standing slowly. "... Fuck. Scratch that. No one need know you were the one who dealt the blows." That fucking stamp. "Molly," he was on the move now, to come to stand before her so she didn't have to turn around. "I'm going to call some people to come here. I want you to go get in the shower. Clean the blood from ya." -d-
M: It was a morbid curiosity. It wasn't the first dead body she saw, and not the first one she had beaten with a bat. Though the first guy had not died by Molly's hands in the end. This one was the first she had killed. And it didn't really sit all that well with 'Sister' Molly. One more quick peek at poor Harvey Fuller. Bet he never thought he'd be beaten to death by a woman half your size. Swallowing that awful taste that had started to creep up into her mouth, Molly just nodded a little bit. "Ok, ok," words laced with exasperation and a sudden hit of exhaustion. And pain. It was just now that she was starting to feel the aches in her jaw and the knot in her head. A hand came up to touch her own neck just as he came to stand before her. She didn't see the baggies, and thus she did not inquire about them. "Can.. can you fish out the old Linfield jersey from me top drawer?" That damn thing was about a decade old at this point. "An'..an' me shorts? I don't'ink I can go in t'ere right now." But at least she was willing to listen and get showered. "Yeh 'ave cleaners, don'yeh?" You know, like the kind that clean up messes like this on a regular basis. Normally associated with people who partake in criminal activities on a regular basis. Eyes lifted from the floor, slowly up to his face to watch his answer. Her question may have been slightly specific to the idea of cleaners, but if he said yes she'd have a pretty good idea of the other things. She might not act like she knows a lot about this sort of thing, but she does. Sam thinks she's completely in the dark and blind to all sorts of things, but that's because Molly chose to be at this point in her life. It didn't mean she didn't know things. Like Adam had said, she wasn't a stranger to it all. "What do I tell people when t'ey ask about me face?" [d]
A: Sliding the handful of drugs into his front pocket while she was focused on his face, he gave her a half smile that was meant to be reassuring. When she touched at the bruises already forming on her skin, he took her wrist gently, and pulled her close -- so when she made her requests and asked her question, it was in his strong hug. "You'll take a day or two from the Dive. And then we'll say you ... fought off a crazed shopper at a Memorial Day sale." Oh. Okay. That's a thing. "Or you've joined a real physical zumba class. I'll get the clothes." That only left her point blank question. He could blow it off, say he was only going to call Tomas to help him clear away the body, and then clean it up himself, but .. that's not how this worked. She needed an answer, and she needed the truth. "Yes, Moll," he spoke softly; dipping his head to brush a soft kiss against the top of her chestnut hair, and then he let her go and moved back into the room that stank of a violent death. Finding the items she wanted was easy, and they were soon pushed into her hands. -d-
M: Her words were muffled against his chest, but truthfully she didn't mind. He could feel her shoulders relax when he pulled her in, resting the flat of her right cheek against him. While there was no sobbing, that would probably be saved for the shower because really the best crying always happens in the shower, he could probably feel the few tears that managed to sneak their way from her eyes. As she listened to his instructions, she nodded slightly, for the moment pretty content to let herself fold up against him. The idea that she fought off a crazed shopper did elicit a subtle, quiet laugh. "Or I jus'fell up t'e stairs t'yer door. T'at might be more believable.." There was no reaction when he answered truthfully. Maybe it was a selfish response - feeling a little lucky this little incident might not have to leave the confines of a small group of people her brother trusted - but she also did not seem surprised. Too many little things all added up. When he moved back, she swiped at her eyes and tried to sniffle back any snot that was about to come from her nose. "T'anks.." She whispered when he handed her her things. "I guess it's a good t'ing I came 'ere, then." [d]
A: "Tell 'em whatever you wanna, my love. Won't matter a thing what they think." She took her clothing from him, and what she said next had a frown pulling at his mouth and he found himself watching her face. Thinking back to every moment they'd been in a situation like this, where her tears stained his shirt. Whether it was over small school girl crushes, to the death of their parents and the biggest change they'd had to make in their young lives. To the hardness of their grandparents farm, to a young woman's love and it's eventual loss, and to the thing they never spoke about that had her running from continent to continent. And now. After some asshole broke his way into Adam's own home, and threatened the life of the only good in his life and she'd proven once again that she was stronger than she ever thought she could be. "Molly," he began so she'd look at him; sliding a hand to cup the uninjured side of her face. "You can come and you can go, and you always will. You can search across this globe to find signs that God sees you, that God has forgiven you for things that were out of your control. But I see you, Moll. I know there's nothing for you to need forgivin' for. Yeah, it's a good thing you came here. It's the only place I'd have ya, if the choice were mine." -d-
M: "But at least t'ey'd stop askin' questions if I be jus' a clumsy fairy." And it was true, too. Leave everyone else of of the picture, Molly fell up some steps while looking at her phone or something. She had started to step passed him, towards the bathroom - that she had also brightened up, by the way, with teal and yellow - but he spoke her name and she turned again. Goddamnit. She was trying so hard to not let any more tears from from those lackluster browns. Lips remained in a straight little line, but the singular dimple was present as a sign she was gnawing on the inside of her cheek. "Sometimes I believe t'at. An' sometimes I don'. An'now I believe it a little bit less. But for some reason, 'e lead me back 'ere." There was a rise and lift of her shoulders, a quick little breath and a shake of her head. But then her lips were upturning into a smile. "An' truthfully I t'ink it's so someone can watch over yer unruly arse. Make sure yeh don'.. do anyt'in too stupid." Like get yourself killed, Addy. "So I t'ink yer stuck with me." Up she went on tiptoes, barely reaching his cheek with her lips. "Yeh know if anytin' 'appened t'yeh I'd jus'beat yeh m'self... apparently I'm good wit a bat." The words lacked their usual pixie flair, but she was trying. There was no need to distract him from whatever game he was playing out there. That she knew for certain. She as going to need to put on her big girl pants and get on with it. [d]
A: "Later, when this is all over, we'll go light a candle for his soul," he spoke it softly, so she'd know he didn't mean the man who lay dead in her bedroom. Her quip earned her a soft snort from her brother, and he leaned down to help when she came upon her toes to smear a kiss to his cheek. It was her joke though, that had him groaning out loud, and raising a hand to his heart like she'd wounded him with just how bad a joke that was. "Ohhh, too soon, Moll. Too soon." A soft swat was made at her, to get her in motion. "Go on then. Get clean. Once I make this call, things will go quickly." And they did, to wrap this up so JR can nap. Alone, he let himself have a few minutes of anger; quietly seething over the dead body in the bedroom. But the calls had to be made, and were. By the time Clara Margaret was done with her shower, the house had a few more visitors -- men she'd not yet officially met, but always seemed to be with Adam when he was out in public. Men who would protect her as if they were him, and could even end up lifelong friends. If she likened herself friends with meathead criminals. They'd get rid of the body, and every trace of blood, every print, every trace of DNA. -d-
