#direid

(Send ღ for a first kiss between our muses.)

The first few times he had come, she had not received him.  It wasn’t out of particular malice for Inspector Reid or the knowledge that perhaps Jackson had sent him, rather she preferred the heavy silence that had settled over Tenter Street once its premises had been vacated by Duggan’s men.  So she’d send Charity in her stead, always instructing the girl to offer her mistress’ regards and anything else the inspector may want or need.

On the last day, however, having sent Charity ahead to her duties at Obsidian, Susan was caught entirely by surprise at Reid’s arrival.  

“I had thought to send round a calling card once we settled in,” she said, not bothering to look at him as she surveyed the once-lush parlor she both loved and hated. 

“Then I shall assume that you may be called upon elsewhere in Whitechapel?” he asked. 

She gave a sad laugh, turning to face him, “I have every confidence in your ability to seek me out should you require it, Inspector.”

It wasn’t the look he gave her in return, not quiet a smile, but a small nod of comfort, an acknowledgement that though others had drifted..or been forced out...the two of them would endure in some strange orbit of each other, it was the way he stood in the doorway while she took her one final look that made her do it. 

It was struggle not to laugh know the series of misfortunes that had lead to Inspector Reid falling asleep in her parlor, and yet, the sight of the tall man slumped and dozing on her fainting couch nearly made Susan giggle like a girl. 

☤ - headcanon about health

Pint of Beer: Send a pint of beer for my muse to get pregnant to yours after a night of blackout drinking-- or vice versa. Feel free to specify.

“It’s been a while Miss Hart.”

Susan nearly jumped out of her seat in the waiting area of H Division as Artherton spoke.  She managed a small smile, “I suppose it has.”

Noticing her glancing at Reid’s door for the umpteenth time since she’s arrived, Artherton nodded, “They should only be a few more minutes.  After such a grueling week, I’m sure the Inspector will be most grateful for an opportunity to escape for lunch with you.”

Straightening in the rather uncomfortable plastic chair, Susan’s hand unconsciously drifted to rest on her stomach, even without her coat not noticeably different than it had been 7 weeks ago, at the end of another grueling week at H Division.  She and Reid had forgone their usual Friday night excursion to the cinema in favor of take out and a DVD at her flat.  She couldn’t quite recall which one of them had joked about making a drinking game out of the incredibly cheesy movie they were watching, but she could personally claim responsibility for grabbing the bottle from kitchen.  

At the time she had figured on a hangover the next day, but didn’t quite fathom a much larger consequence that had caused her to keep Reid at arm’s length for the past two weeks.  

Despite the fact her normally perfect hair was in a complete state of disarray and she couldn’t begin to fathom how she’d get the wrinkles out of clothes, Susan managed a small smile. She always did enjoy Reid’s particular brand of humor, dark and subtle rather like her own.  Even in her current state, she adopted a sly tone, an eyebrow arched in question.