#forvirtue

Foils: Faith & Cynicism ~ A Janepelt playlist for @forvirtue and myself and anyone else who happens to ship them.

        It might be a decision that Grace would be scolded for later, but one glimpse of their suspect heading toward the group of teenage girls was enough for her to break into a run. In the next second she’d all but knocked him over, grappling for an arm and twisting it back, the palm of her free hand slamming between his shoulder blades.

         “Yeah, I do,” she snapped. “Against the wall.”

         Rulon Farnes wasn’t a face she had expected or hoped to deal with ever again, but god if she didn’t hope he was the culprit this time. As far as Grace was concerned, if Rulon wasn’t a rapist or a murderer, he was just the kind of sleazy creep who would turn into one eventually. Wiping him off the streets would be one of the best things the CBI ever did.

         “This time you’re coming with us.”

                                                        ask baby tsuzuki ! | accepting

Oh, that’s a lot of responsibility to think about. Ruka’s been teaching him all about responsibility, since she’s gone at work so much. Asato balances on the edge of an overturned wooden box with his arms outstretched to either side of him, looking at his feet to keep from falling over. It eventually tips and causes him to stumble a few steps to the right.

“My sister carries mail,” he says proudly, righting himself and dusting dirt off of his shorts. "I don’t know if I wanna do that, but she’s really good at it.”

He thinks of how sick she is sometimes, how much she coughs,how she’s had the same cold for what feels like forever. Every cough rattles her whole body. One time she even coughed up blood and ruined her favorite robe.

        “–Jane!” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. Ragged and raw with emotion. It hurt to speak, but once she started, Grace found she couldn’t stop. His name tumbled out over and over again as if somehow it was what kept him from leaving her side. “Oh my god, Jane–!”

         Grace buried her face against his neck and sobbed. She was soaking his collar with tears and smearing his vest with bloodied hands, but she didn’t care. An evil man lay staring blank at their feet with a kitchen knife protruding from just beneath his ribs. Sirens cut abruptly out as CBI vans and police cars alike pulled outside the building. Grace hardly registered them.

         “H-he was going to–”

of  all  things  patrick  thought  that  this  man  would  do  ,  this  caught  him  by  SURPRISE .  he  had  went  to  go  see  if  he  could  get  a  read  on  him  ,  only  to  stumble  into  a  scene  that  looked  more  befitting  a  slasher  movie  .  he  had  seen  his  fair  share  of  bodies  ,  heck  ,  even  caused  a  few  of  them  himself  .  but  it  was  graces’  reaction  that  struck  at  him  as  she  called  his  name  ,  baying  for  him  to  HELP  .  

patrick  stepped  over  the  body  ,  going  immediately  to  grace  &&  taking  her  elbows  very  calmly  in  his  hands  ,  trying  to  get  the  redhead  to  look  at  him  &&  focus  on  his  expression  other  than  the  body  .  ‘  grace  ,  ‘  he  said  calmly  .  ‘  grace  look  at  me  .  you’re  safe  .  you’re  okay  .  &&  there’s  ONE  LESS  bad  guy  in  the  world  .  ‘  

❛ oh, my dear, don’t be SHOCKED -- ❜ head tilts upwards slightly --condescending eyes overshadowing the mere mortal. it always amused him when they found something .. off about him. ❛ everything’s quite different when you look a bit closer. ❜

He had been calling Lisbon nearly every time he was allowed to use the phone, but today, something made him dial a different number. Maybe it was guilt, as he had yet to ask Lisbon about Grace, or maybe it was guilt because if it hadn’t been for him, Red John wouldn’t have had a need to keep inserting men into her life. 

That thought nearly made him hang up before he finished dialing, but he couldn’t just go without checking in on her. No, Grace Van Pelt was a good woman, and he wanted to ensure that she stayed that way. After shooting and killing her fiance, he had a duty to make sure that she didn’t turn into him. Jaded and cynical, derisive of everything just to keep it at a distance. Grace Van Pelt was better than that.

        “…Mm, mm-hm– the necklace?” Grace distractedly pulled her attention away from her notebook to look at Teresa, then to Rhys. If she was the more jealous sort, and if she didn’t know any better, she might think that his fixation on her boss’ jewelry was… weird. Oh, god, if she was dating nut job with a creepy fetish for necks… Grace pushed the thought out of her head. Nope. Nope. She was done with weirdos. Please don’t let this one be a weirdo.

         “It’s special to her,“ she said. “Lisbon told me she was practically raised in Catholic school.”