#c:kat

Despite an invite onto the dancefloor— really just a small space where a few residents had pulled back high top tables— Brooks had stayed at the bar, keen to catch the final minutes of the game. His eyes had been glued to the ball, bounced between teammates and shot through the air, and his fists had raised in triumph as the buzzer sounded. He was still talking about those final moments as, out of the corner of his eye, a blonde pulled herself from the small crowd and approached, Brooks still talking to the other as he greeted her with a smile and the drink she’d left behind. “Now I know you worked up a thirst,” Brooks laughed, letting his hand rest on the other lingering cup. “Get your head in the game?”

Karen had the amazing ability to sleep through pretty much anything, even when she was in someone else’s bed. You’d never catch her complaining that she ‘didn’t sleep well because she wasn’t in her own bed’ because most of the time she didn’t even notice. Letting out a humming noise at the sound of Kat’s voice it took her a good couple of seconds to blink her wide eyes open again, blearily, with a lazy smile on her lips. There was a lot of sudden movement jolting the bed, making Karen sit up slowly, rubbing her eye with a fist, frowning. “Where…no, get back into bed, two hours is such a long time.” She murmured, stretching out her arm making a grabby hand at the same time. “Even just for a little bit, I’m not hungry, just cold. Get back into bed.” The blonde wasn’t wearing shirt which was probably why she wasn’t exactly warm, holding the duvet up across her chest by default.

Of course this would happen to her. It had to be his fault though-- in her mind-- if his face hadn’t been so distracting when they so happened to pick up their prints at the same time, she wouldn’t have gotten them mixed up. And yet she couldn’t help herself. When she checked the prints in her car, she quickly realized the photos weren’t hers. But she went through them anyway. She was at awe of the obvious talent the stranger had. But then a moment later she realized that her shots were with him. “Fuck,” she cussed under her breath as she tried to put the photos back as neatly as she could back into the sleeve.

The things she had to do to just get a little goddamn special treatment in the town! It was ridiculous. They’d learn. Alana Ivashkov had come to New Orleans. They’d all know her name soon enough. And it seemed like someone already had, the girl she had accidently hit with the door. As she met brown eyes with her own green ones, Alana smiled like a benevolent god looking down on her people. “Would you like to sit?”  @inkedvixcn​ 

Crawford: are you working tonight?