As much as Lottie told herself that she’d come over purely because it was her mission to do so, she had to admit that it was the farthest thing from her mind when he opened the door. Still in his typical work uniform, she had to admire the way his shirt clung to his shoulders in a way that made her want to tear it off of him. After a casual relationship with an older man had backfired on her, she’d told herself that she wasn’t interested in more mindless sex. She’d been burned before, unable to stop herself from developing feelings for that individual, and she was furious at herself for not keeping her heart out of this situation too. Not that she was head over heels in love with Chris, but she definitely liked him, she enjoyed spending time with him and she definitely felt guilty about the many lies she had to tell him. It was all growing a whole lot more complicated than she’d expected it to be. 

Accidentally. His tone had her biting back a grin, trying not to laugh as he stepped aside, letting her into his apartment. She was becoming vaguely familiar with it now, after more late-night trips than she would be willing to admit to. ‘’Lucky for you.’’ She retorted in return, hiding a grin as she gestured towards the bag of Chinese food. Lottie even cooed a hello to Cook, his dog that she’d definitely become fond of. Her Father had never allowed them to have a dog, claiming that they were too messy and disruptive, but she had always enjoyed them. Instead they’d had a cat, because they were independent and easy to take care of, but she’d argued that she could be a cat and a dog person when they’d had a discussion about it. 

Stepping towards the kitchen, her high heels clicking against the floor, it was as if she owned the place, feeling fairly at ease there. A snort left her as she heard his comment about the booty calls, resting the bag down on the kitchen side before she turned towards him, beginning to unbutton her coat, a purposeful slowness to her movements. ‘’Now you’re just making me want to recreate every bad delivery-driver porno that I’ve ever seen.’’ The blonde spoke teasingly, sliding in closer to Chris once her coat hung off of her shoulders, revealing the blouse and pencil skirt beneath. ‘’I think this is the part where you tell me that you’re fresh outta cash and you’ve got to pay me in sexual favours.’’

Chris glanced around the hall, wondering if anyone was around before he shut the door after she had made her way inside. She was familiar enough with his apartment that he wasn’t worried about her finding her way nor was he worried about the potential things she could find. Anything Lycan-related had been expertly hidden, and even if someone had found his hiding spot, he doubted that there was anything of real value aside from his jacket, sewn with the Lycanthrope crest and a badge indicating his ranking. Any of his affairs with the Lycanthropes were usually verbally received in case the day came where his cover would be blown, the evidence of whatever he was tasked with completely safe in his brain. 

He followed her into the kitchen then, and he came up to the side counter, opening the drawer to empty out his pockets of his phone, keys, and wallet. He took a moment to unstrap the holster and his gun with it from his belt, and he tucked it away into the cupboard as he spoke, “Oh, yeah? Are you suggesting you watch a lot of bad delivery-driver porn in the first place?” He glanced over at his shoulder, catching sight of her as she set down the Chinese food and slowly began to unbutton her jacket, revealing her tight-fitting blouse and equally tight-fitting pencil skirt. As modest as her clothes were, there was little left to his imagination with the way her skirt clung so carefully to her curves. 

He turned around in time as she crossed over to him, his brow raised as she suggestively kept her coat hung around her arms, and he leaned back against the counter while one hand reached out to brush her hair out from over her shoulder. “You know, my intuition’s telling me that you didn’t accidentally order two portions of everything,” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while his fingers grazed down her arm, his hand finding her coat sleeve and tugging her into him. 

OPEN TO ANYONE @ HALF MOON.

            The good old, cliché-filled bar glistened under the city lights and the atmosphere was brimming with people of all sorts. Much like everyone else, Victoria was only here for a drink or two with a friend – although she could use networking, as always. Meeting new people was never out of fashion for someone in her field of work and you could never have such a thing as too many allies. That’s how she saw them: allies, never friends.

          Or so that’s what she told herself. She knew this was Lycanthrope territory – thus, anyone could be the enemy. All that Victoria hoped for was to blend in with the crowd, but it wouldn’t be too difficult considering the place was fairly difficult to navigate already. Bumping into an unfamiliar face, she promptly apologized, hoping not to have spilled her drink onto someone else’s clothing. 

          “I’m sorry. I’ll get you another drink if you’ll excuse me. I’m looking for a friend – but apparently, they’re not coming tonight,” an apologetic smile curled upon her lips. She offered them a hand. “What should I get you?”

Chris was enjoying a night off from his two jobs as a cop and as a Lycan. He and Xavier had arrived not long before, and already, the two had managed to down a couple shots before Xavier had ditched Chris for another familiar face. Instead, Chris made his rounds while nursing a rum and coke to see if he knew anybody before he was forced to find Xavier, who needed his space and knew when to take it. 

Suddenly, a figure had seemingly come out of the blue, and before his reflexes could kick in, Chris’s drink had half spilled onto his shirt. Already buzzed, it took him a second to realize he had run into a person and not a chair, and glancing down at his soaked black shirt, he could see the wet pattern growing as it trickled down the cotton. “Christ,” he murmured, his concern shifting from his shirt to his drink and hoping that there was still some of it left to salvage. 

“It’s fine,” he answered gruffly before his eyes fell onto Victoria, his brows furrowed as he tried to place the face to a name, but he came up short, not recognizing her from his mental rolodex. “It was just a rum and coke,” he answered, “Don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t want you to waste your money if you’re not planning on staying since your friend abandoned you.”

“Those things should be banned,” Clarke mocked, though her tone became much higher pitched and her elbow stuck out to nudge against Chris’s arm. “Look, if you want my positive and sunshine-y mood to remain for at least the amount of time it’s going to take to walk through this crime scene, I suggest you keep your mitts off my happy juice.” Despite the can still being a quarter of the way full, Clarke abandoned it in the cupholder as she stepped out of the car and took in the rundown home in front of her. It reminded her of one of the places Clarke and her mother had lived in for a short period of time when the blonde was a kid. “Neighbors reported gunshots and when the dispatched officers arrived,” Clarke spoke as she walked, ducking under the yellow tape towards the house’s front door, “they found two bodies, both men and both with multiple gunshot wounds.”

Chris’s eyes shifted from the scene to Clarke when he heard her mocking tone, his brows raised and an amused expression overtaking his features as he waited for her to finish. He had to bite back his grin and remind himself that they were working despite her sing-song voice, making fun of what he viewed as a very valid opinion: energy drinks are disgusting. “Hey,” he said in defense, hands raising to claim his innocence, “I’m not getting anywhere near your happy juice, you dork.” 

He followed her out of the car then, walking behind her as she described the scene they were about to enter. Chris had worked with Clarke on previous homicide cases, and he was more than happy to take the backseat while she took lead. However, as he approached the house, something familiar about it made him feel uneasy, wondering if he had come across it in his professional career or as a Lycan. Eyes roamed around the hall as he ducked under the tape, and he followed Clarke further. “Do we have an ID?” he asked.

It was definitely a bad idea. She’d started off seeing the Detective about a month ago, her mission to find information on the Lycan’s officially active. Lottie had always taken a backseat when it came to the gang before, not entirely sure whether she agreed with it all, but her brother and father were both heavily involved, and that deep rooted inferiority complex wouldn’t let her say no when the idea had been suggested. It’d sounded easy, simple, just spend time with one of their Beta’s and see what information she found, but she admittedly hadn’t counted on that particularly Beta being so handsome and charming that her heart skipped a beat when they were spending time with one another. Since their initial ‘chance’ meeting in the bar, they’d seen each other several times a week, mostly just for sex, but she couldn’t deny she also enjoyed the moments when they had their clothes on, too. 

She told herself that she was going to his apartment just to see if there were any new leads, but that wasn’t strictly the case. All he knew about her was that she was the Daughter of a Senator and a journalist in her own right, and Lottie planned on keeping it that way, otherwise the two delicate world’s she’d created would definitely blow up in her face. It was a balancing act, especially as she had to remind herself that he was supposedly the enemy when they spent time together, but she convinced herself that she was doing a good job with it all. So much so that she’d grabbed a bottle of wine on her way home from work and decided to stop off at Chris’ apartment on the way, a bag of take out in the other hand. 

‘‘I accidentally ordered too much take out and picked up two bottles of wine.’‘ She explained when he answered the door, a little smirk tugging at her lips that probably betrayed this was something akin to a booty call. ‘‘You wouldn’t let a lady drink alone, would you?’‘ 

@detectivecmiller​

Chris wasn’t entirely sure what to make of a girl like Charlotte “Lottie” Baker. They had met in a chance encounter at a bar, and after a few flirtatious glances, it didn’t take long for him to approach the girl and take her home. For him, hook-ups were easy. He had accomplished many one-night stands in favor for their simplicity given his line of work as a double agent. On paper, he was the rookie cop turned detective for managing to greatly reduce the numbers of a prominent gang in Houston, but his motives weren’t based on a desire for justice but for his deep-rooted affiliation for another prominent gang in the city. Living a double life was hard enough to maintain that he had no time for a steady relationship of any sort, so it was easy for him to cut girls out of his life after he was done with them. 

Lottie, however, had managed to stick around for longer than most, and that raised several red flags. Normally, he would have been happy to ghost any other girl he had picked up at a bar if she was being too clingy, but she had managed to be so persistent in her pursuit that he could hardly say no, giving way to his carnal desire to fuck her every late night she came over--and she was a good fuck, good enough for him to ignore the rules he had about only having one-night stands in the first place. This had gone on for a better part of the last month, which was long enough for those alarm bells to become nothing more than background noise in his mind. It wasn’t so weird for him now to receive nightly texts from her that evolved from booty calls to what resembled a casual hang-out, but he still managed to hold some reservations for the girl, aware that she was a journalist, her only job to dig around for answers. 

He had only been home long enough to feed his dog, Cook, when he heard the knock on the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone over, thinking it was odd that someone was coming over to bother him. As he approached the door, his hand instinctively moved behind his back, his fingers lingering over his gun just in case, but with a quick peep through the eye-hole, he immediately recognized that head of curly, blonde locks. Unlocking the door with a furrowed brow, he pulled the door open to greet Lottie and the bag of takeout and wine she held in her arms. “’Accidentally,’” he repeated in disbelief as his gaze raked over the food, the aroma making his stomach grumble and growl. 

He stepped aside for her to enter his apartment, shutting the door behind her as she came in. “I didn’t realize these booty calls came with delivery,” he half-joked, aware that most of their time spent together involved them being naked in some form.

“I think I’ve officially developed too high of a tolerance for caffeine,” the blonde commented offhandedly, staring down at the massive can of Red Bull in her hand before taking a generous swig. Without energy drinks and coffee, Clarke wasn’t sure she would have been able to survive the past few weeks given how few hours of sleep the blonde had been allowing herself. It wasn’t like she did it on purpose, but anytime Clarke closed her eyes, she only saw one person and that one person was the absolute last thing Clarke ever wanted to see again. 

“How many of these do you think it would take to kill me?” Clarke waved the can back and forth. “Fifty? Sixty?”

Headcanons: ―

Chris grew up in Downtown Houston to a single mother who often worked long shifts as an ER nurse. Struggling to provide, he rarely saw his mom throughout his childhood, and he spent most of his youth as a latchkey kid. 

This gave him enough freedom to fuck around and get into all sorts of trouble. He became friends with someone who had a similar background, and together, they were able to wreak havoc all through high school. This is how Chris became aware of the Lycans although he wasn’t initially interested in the cult at first but liked the whole idea of vigilante justice. 

Graduated high school by a neck and decided he should probably grow up, so he started working as a dish washer to eventually become a chef. HATED how long it was going to take him before he could become a chef and loved the idea of money, so he called up his old friend to see what he was up to.

Was pretty adept at lying, stealing cars, and tough as bolts. Started hanging out with the Lycans more at 18 until one of the older betas thought Chris could work as a cop to help out the cult.

Became initiated while simultaneously going through the police academy. Became a beat cop and used this new advantage to take down a bunch of Reapers, mostly small-level pawns but had arrested enough that he was catching the sergeant’s eye. 

Kissed ass for years until he got promoted to detective and held more power over his associated precinct. Now helps the Lycans by erasing evidence, letting go fellow members with warnings, raiding Reaper supplies, and putting away as many of the Reapers as possible.

Currently sleeping with a Reaper girl but has no idea that she’s supposed to coax information out of him. May be compromised.

Wanted Connections: ―

Best friend: I’d love to have a best friend connection for Chris, someone who introduced him to the Lycanthropes and showed him the ropes in the beginning. This is a person Chris has known since high school at least and who comes from a similar background. This is the one person he’d trust with his entire life and knows practically everything about Chris and vice versa.

Partner on the force: This is someone who Chris works with on plenty of cases. There’s a chance that this person may be suspicious of Chris to some degree, but that depends on if that’s something the player wants to pursue. Could make for an interesting dynamic!

Ex-girlfriend: This person Chris has been on and off with for a while. How they broke up and the reason why they broke up can be worked out as well as how they came together.