#* amygone .

mr. memphis leans back in his seat when she speaks as if to get a better look of odile . his eyes squint before his rotten grin unravels across his wrinkled face ── the demon is tickled by her hostility ; in fact , he appreciates it . in a world where decency and mild manners are applauded , the young woman's bluntness cuts through all that unnecessary fat , leaves him with nothing but heaving oozing red flesh to chew on . even though a second ago memphis had nothing in his hand , somehow , he manages to flick ash onto the hotel lobby's marbled floor . " see ? that's what i like about your generation , you're always in such a rush ── you got places to be , stuff to do , you can't take the time to read the fine print in those lengthy contracts ! of course not ! act now , worry later . "

his rotten grin grows wider as he lifts his hideously scarred hand to his lips . " that's how you get swindled , sweetheart . " one long drag from his cigarette and it's gone , all the paper burnt , nothing but ashes and smoke are left as evidence of the little cancer stick's existence ( this too will be all which is left of memphis once their meeting is over ) .

one bony hand brushes over his suit's pants . despite the nonchalance of the gesture , the demon is still more focused on keeping his clothes tidy than on odile . " i need five dead by the end of the week . " the humour is gone but not the casualness of it all . when his cold eyes find the young woman again , there are no laugh lines framing them . " get it done . " memphis is all business .

she’s not from around these parts.

rustin doesn’t frequent bars that often, not unless he wants to hurt. it’s odd how sorrow can become consoling; it’s an old poem he returns to every once in a while. rustin will have a beer and run his fingers over the words only to find that, the ink that should have dried so many years ago, is still fresh over the pad of his index. the past is long gone, but it still stains him; STILL HURTS. but he’s trying not to slip into that old habit of thinking about his wife and daughter. tonight is not the night for that but his throat sure feels dry. he clenches his jaw and takes a long sip of his ice cold coke. 

a woman sits by herself a couple of stools away from his and he focuses on that instead: SHE’S NOT FROM AROUND THESE PARTS. the louisiana heat hadn’t seeped into her clothes yet. rust didn’t taste moss or diesel when he looked at her, no, instead he felt something cold against the roof of his mouth. metallic. sharp. coppery. cohle exhales; there’s gunpowder in there too. not even a glass of fucking coca-cola will wash that down. rustin thinks she might have noticed him noticing her.

                 she’s not from around these parts. and when detective cohle turns his head to look at her again he doesn’t give her the privilege of privacy. his heavily-lidded eyes are stuck to the stranger, watching unapologetically. rust can’t be sure, but he feels as if he might have seen her before. maybe a lifetime ago when alcohol was the least of his problems, when his name was “crash” and the closest thing to family he had was a bike gang cartel; armed, dangerous and coked up  ----  rustin thought he’d die there, but the tragedy was that he didn’t. he survived four years undercover but still couldn’t forget some of the things he had seen.

under the bar’s shitty yellow lights he can’t tell for sure, it’s hard to see her face clearly; she’s wearing sunglasses indoors. rustin decided that to be something only PEOPLE WHO DON’T WANT TO BE SEEN do. the radio continues to play an unbearable tune. the cold glass has begun to burn his fingers and, still, rustin stares her down. he sees her and she’s definitively not from around these parts.

his hands are buried in his trench coat's pockets when he speaks to her . harvey dent looks like he ought to be in an old ad ; a comforting face to assure consumers that their choice was the right one . that they were going to get that big promotion , they were gonna marry the love of their life , that their parents were proud of them ㅤㅤ--- ㅤㅤㅤㅤtheir happily ever after was coming . ㅤㅤTRUST HIM . ㅤㅤbut as the district attorney turns to face the mysterious woman he shares the rooftop with , he finds that her mere presence has the exact opposite effect on him .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthe more dent watched odile , the more he doubted whether he had done the right thing by trusting her ㅤ( never judge a book by its' cover , that's what he tries to tell himself )ㅤ . nevertheless , he offers up a half-smile , charming , of course . police sirens echo throughout the streets down below .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ" well , shucks , odile . that's real sweet of you . "

there's humour to that observation . women like her had little room for pleasantriesㅤㅤ --- ㅤㅤ rubbing shoulders with a criminal organisation for months only to then offer them up on a silver platter to the authorities required a level of detachment harvey wasn't sure was natural ㅤ( or healthy for that matter ) ㅤ. ㅤBUT SHE HAD DONE IT ; ㅤwhy , the da wasn't entirely sure . he wanted to believe it to be due to a strong sense of justice --- but something about odile's cold expression made it hard to read her . his thumb brushed over a silver surface , hidden in the depths of his coat .

" you did something good here . " ㅤharvey pointed out , sounding serious this time . ㅤ" which is why i'm asking you to pack your bags and leave gotham tonight . "

more sirens , tires screech , car horns ㅤㅤ---ㅤㅤ his home's cries are never ending . people like this odile person and the batman present themselves as medicine to alleviate the city from its' illness . but harvey dent seeks to CURE GOTHAM .ㅤ at what point do these vigilantes cease to be heroes and become symptoms ? if good citizens only see justice being applied by those working outside of the law , what hope do any of them have ?

" hey , come on , now , no need for all of that . " laces said as he lifted both arms up . he had managed to sound defeated rather than scared for his life ( he still had two other quarters of soul to spare ) . the mud's safe sat still right in front of the crouched man , though its' lock had acquired brand new scratches all over it . CÉSAR WAS UP TO NO GOOD but the squeaking of his leather pants made it clear this wasn't the hunter's most strategic heist ; wasn't the first time he had had a gun pointed at him either ! heck , at this point , césar saw being shot at as a necessary rite of passage for all of his most valued relationships . and amy hadn't fired ( yet ) ── she must've really liked him .

laces pointed with one gloved hand at the safe he hadn't managed to break into , feigning his best puppy eyed look ( he even fluttered his lashes and everything ) ; instead césar looked like he was struggling not to sneeze . " was just checkin' the locks , that's all . makin' sure my future place of employment is secured . " when the gun was not lowered , césar got serious ── he did not rise from his crouched position , but he did bend one knee while gazing up at amy , his sharp eyes staring deep into her unblinking ones , searching for any ounce of empathy from the woman in a gesture that seemed to suggest absolute devotion .

" would i lie to you ? " laces asked while holding an obnoxiously large lock pick set .

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other

ROMANCE.     childhood sweethearts  /  [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush  /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other 

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other

his aggressive chewing slowed down considerably when amy asked him her question . it was well after eight in the afternoon but césar had chosen breakfast for dinner again ; scrambled eggs , bacon , some toast , orange juice and a no longer cold beer . he didn't see her often or , at least , not as often as he'd like , but whenever they ran into each other , amy rarely chose to spend time with him out of her own free will . laces wondered why ── and as soon as he began to wonder , he forgot . his mind was far too preoccupied reading between the lines of amy's words ( despite there not being any lines to begin with ) .

it was unconceivable to laces that people might not be attracted to him ; and despite coming to amy to ask for a temporary job at the mud ( last time he worked they had a whole different sort of operation going on ) , CÉSAR STILL COULD NOT HELP HIMSELF .

with a mouth still full of egg , he placed an elbow atop the table separating the two of them . a fork dangled from his fingers as hazel eyes locked with brighter , far more concentrated ones . césar twirled the cutlery between his fingers as a warm smile unravelled ── the sort of smile that irradiated mischief or , in césar's case , astounding amounts of foolishness . " you tell me . " he drawled through the scrambled eggs before suggestively waggling his eyebrows at his possible employer .

bony fingers twist and tear at a folded napkin. harleen had recently reached the shocking conclusion that she was strange, very strange. she thought she might be the strangest girl in the world; the weirdest, oddest, most misunderstood little woman she had ever seen ── but the more dr. kopski hanged around amy, the more she came to realise that perhaps she wasn't alone. perhaps all those women she saw walking down the street with their heads held high and her nails well-done were going through a meltdown awakening of their own. the more harley stared at the woman sitting across from her, the more she wondered;

if women could truly do whatever they wanted to do, why was that diner so damn quiet?

blue bulging eyes shifted to look up at amy. dr. kopski had been hunching over their table like a gargoyle, anxiously fidgeting with whatever she could get her hands on. ── was she the only one who felt like screaming? no, she saw something in amy's face too. as stoic as her friend might have thought she was, harleen could always tell when a woman was getting stretched beyond her limits. amy looked like she might break any second now ... heck, PERHAPS SHE ALREADY HAD.

" let's just say i've been cookin' up something preeetty cool. " kopski announced, arching one cocky eyebrow. she looked like she hadn't slept in a while. " but i'm really not supposed to tell anyone about it ── " the good doctor sighed, disappointed that she could not share the specifics of her latest project with her drinking buddy ( pretty amy, always so damn hard to read with her good posture and few words ).

suddenly, the whole neighbourhood shook, a loud booming sound following shortly after as a bright flash of orange lit up the whole world outside the diner. there was panic in the streets; car alarms went off, people rushed down the sidewalk, constantly looking over their shoulder as a massive fire broke out. harleen didn't need to glance outside their window to know that a bank a few blocks down had just blown up. instead she curled her red lips at amy and playfully kicked at her leg.

rustin watched her through heavily-lidded eyes, searching for any ounce of empathy that he could spare the woman he had, until very recently, thought absolutely undeserving.  ──   dogmas in his line of work were justified, amy quinton was far from sainthood; her arms dealings had spread far and wide, reaching a subsection of human cohle himself had once had to rub shoulders with. THE WORST OF THE WORST; armed and dangerous because of her.

                           his lips remained parted as he held a lit cigarette between his fingers, letting a curtain of smoke form between the two of them. amy looked like she might need some stitches. they were in bad shape: beaten up and with stains of blood coagulating on their shirts, souvenirs left by men who did not take kindly to them snooping around. rust could hear sirens in the distance, shades of red and blue flashing in the infinite darkness, matching their shared bruises ... all this pain could have been avoided if amy quinton hadn’t spoken to him. rustin knew what had compelled her to reach out to a detective had not been some noble code of ethics but a search to obtain more power, more money, more territory    ──   a bad person keeping other bad people from the door. 

but now she had rasped that confession to him and, despite rustin being the furthest away anyone could be from a clergyman, he offered amy some guidance;   “ got here on my own. ”  the detective confessed before taking a drag from his cigarette.  “ but that ain’t no reason for you to stop feelin’ guilty. ” his words were followed by smoke. none of them belonged in a church; their place was there, “ you hold on to that. ” on the curb.