LOSING TOUCH.

It was perhaps a little early in the day to be at a bar, but it was one of Victor’s rare days off, which was part of the reason why they were sitting at the bar sipping from a drink. They had promised their sister that they would start putting themself out there more, and this was their way of at least trying. They’re lost in their own thoughts when they hear someone talking, blinking for a moment before turning to look over at the woman, offering her a small smile. “Oh, no. I mean, they probably have a first aid kit, but oh no to the injury. I can help you get cleaned up if you’d like?” Victor offers, reaching for a couple more napkins. 

The person behind her seems lost in thought, that much was apparent. It spikes Demi’s curiosity and her tendency to be a bit nosy kicks in soon enough. She continues to wipe at her injured knees, stopping the bleeding from continuing. She graciously takes the pile of new napkins from them, nodding a bit as she looks back down at her legs. “Thank you, I’d appreciate that very much. I might as well not bother the bartenders for a first-aid kit, honestly. I can wait until I get home. Besides, I’d prefer a drink, anyway.” Demi says kindly, still fixating on her knees. Once they’re a bit more cleaned up, she looks back towards them, eyebrows raising upwards in amusement. “You seem a little lost inside your own head,” The woman starts, canting her head to the side. “Penny for your thoughts?”

       A typical Saturday afternoon for Elizabeth consisted of grabbing a quick bite to eat while the radio chatter was quiet, or at least more quiet than usual until it picked up later in the evening. Of course, while on duty, the bar was the last place you’d find the blonde, but she and her patrol partner had just dealt with a call in the area and there was no telling how much spare time they’d have to get a decent meal before something else came up. It was only after they were finished lunch, paid and getting ready to head back outside, that something  –  or better yet, someone  –  out of place caught her eye. The hint of a smirk touches her lips for a brief second, until blue hues lower to see the blood stained napkins, and it’s like a switch; she’s right back into work-mode.

       “ Are you okay? ”  While waiting for an answer other than the obvious, her hand slides across the top of the counter, fingers tapping against the wooden surface in order to get the bartender’s attention back on her, if only momentarily to fulfill the other’s request.  “ We need your first aid kit. Thank you. ”  Thumb hooks into the tactical belt around her waist, and Elizabeth’s leaning against the counter now, as if shielding the brunette from other patrons’ curious stares. She murmurs another  ‘ thank you ’  to the bartender once the kit is set on the bar, and she’s quick to work, snapping it open.  “ So, what happened? ”

Seeing Elizabeth, of all people, come to her rescue right now was a surefire way of changing the tone of this whole ordeal. What started as a damned evening paired with bloody knees turns erotic and a little excited. Demi was quick to fix her hair, though not a single strand could ever be misplaced, as Demi was too much of a perfectionist to have bad hair. She looks over her shoulder at various onlookers which dwindles her confidence a tad, though she does her best to ignore them. Believe it or not, Demi tried avoiding bars as much as possible. If she did find herself within one, she ordered her drinks specifically and in a timely fashion. Something about being a single woman in a bar made her feel so divorced. Her thought process is a little like this: Oh, look at me, a pretty middle-aged woman having a drink alone. Yes, I am divorced, how can you tell? Was it the depressing white wine I’m drinking or the way I keep shifting in my new dress, hoping a compliment is sent my way?

“I’m fine. Just fell outside on the pavement,” Demi finally says, breaking free from her thoughts. “I bumped into some asshole and just tumbled. I didn’t even see who it was because they fled so fast.” A quiet chuckle sounds from her then, continuing to dab at her bleeding knees. “Guess I can’t really blame them, I basically did the same thing and ran in here. But thankfully you’re here to save the day, it seems. My hero.” A warm, charming smile graces Demi’s expression then as she sticks one of her long legs out for Elizabeth to take a look at. The more she looks at her damaged knees, she feels a little less embarrassed. They look a tad rugged in a chic way and Demi assumes there’s nothing really wrong with that. Though, the crimson red shade from the blood clashes terribly with her outfit which makes all her insecurities come piling back. In truth, it probably didn’t matter as much. Demi and Elizabeth had a very set in stone kind of relationship. They had sex and went, that was the deal. No strings attached. There was no need to fondle with her insecurities or wonder if her hair looked decent. “Are you off duty? Or is it just an uneventful day in the force?” The dark-haired woman asks sincerely, setting her purse down onto the bar counter. 

Starting the weekend with a pair of bloody knees was not something Demi anticipated or wanted, for that matter. The woman had taken a hard tumble after colliding with someone outside on the pavement. The other person in question flew the scene without a trace, mumbling some incoherent profanities under their breath. Demi couldn’t exactly blame them, especially as she does the same thing, hoisting herself from off the ground and into the nearest store. 

The sidewalk had ripped right through her stockings, cutting the delicate skin of her knees. With her luck, she ends up in a bar, and she quickly grabs a couple of napkins that were stacked on the counter near the front. Once acquired, she plops down onto a barstool and begins dabbing at her bloodied knees, blowing a strand of perfectly styled hair from her make-up clad face. She was the kind of woman too pretty for situations like this and much too put together. Her injuries and sudden disheveled nature almost seem unnatural from the outside looking in. “These stockings are probably more expensive than that person’s electric bill,” Demi mutters, both to herself and to the onlooker beside her. A quiet sigh sounds from her, continuing to aid her stinging knees. Brown eyes avert towards the person, “Quite a way to start off the new decade. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.” She says, crumbling the pile of napkins and grabbing a few new ones. “Do you think they have a first-aid kit in this place or what?”

      was that ( ABIGAIL SPENCER ) I just saw around the Flower Garden Gated Community? No, it was just ( DEMI KEENE ), the ( THIRTY-NINE ) ( CISFEMALE ) ( BUSINESS OWNER ). ( SHE ) has been living in Boston for ( ALL OF HER LIFE ). One thing about them that they wouldn’t want you to know about them is ( THAT SHE’S STILL IN LOVE WITH HER EX-WIFE ). ( DEMI ) can be described as ( POISED & GLAMOROUS ) as well as ( DESTRUCTIVE & UPTIGHT ) and If you ask them, ( ISN’T IT MIDNIGHT BY FLEETWOOD MAC ) would be their anthem.