#ohohohoooo

@fraxcxccl​

A man exhausted beyond mortal limits, he climbs iron steps. Crosses worn acoustic floors. To the sofa she guides, palms upon broad shoulders encourage respite. Removes tie. Smooths a thumb ‘cross sharp cheek as deft fingers relieve pearl buttons. Lastly, a hitch of plaid and she’s settled astride lap, bare thighs enshrouding. Engulfs Tseng within a rose-scented sanctuary. Buries slender fingers within rivulets of ebony and soothes, lips a gentle flutter over tired mien. “Tell me what you need…"

He lets himself be ushered to the couch, though his feet understand the direction that his mind cannot fathom. The enervation of his body and soul impairs any sentient thought from him. But he understands the weight of Ashe upon his lap, her warmth upon his chest, the scent of her skin that inspires an unbidden piquancy that surprises him. And even in the mist and miasma of his weariness does he understand the solicitude with which she asks him, demands of him, offers him to be a part of his recovery. To help. To be a bolster within his difficult times.

He can’t recall anyone ever having asked after him before. He can’t recall ever being the subject of anyone’s concern or interest. Not until her. And every single time she evinces a modicum of care for him, it never quite gets old. Never to be taken for granted. 

And neither is she. 

This was why one of the first things she had ever learnt was to never discount the drunks and the elderly. Because no one wanted to speak to them, they watched everything with the keenest eye. The trick was just getting them to remember, and then tell you the information you needed.

She thanked him, and walked him back down the stairs.

Jordan stayed as present as she needed to with Amber and Brittany, barely remembering their answers besides the fact that their alibis matched what their spouses were saying—wait. Maria had said Brittany had crawled into bed after one. Brittany was saying she had gone to bed at eleven.

Jordan kept her face the same as she drew an asterisk next to Brittany’s alibi.

As she walked her down the stairs, Jordan wondered what Brittany had to hide. It could have been anything, but the only things downstairs were Richard’s body, the couches where Luke had been sleeping, the kitchen, and her bedroom. It was a good thing she needed to investigate exactly where Brittany was last night.

Maybe she had secret bad enough to kill for.

-

Jordan was staring at Amerie with the least impressed face Amerie had ever seen on her. Truly, it was impressive.

The amount of disdain that woman showed in one corner of her mouth made Amerie slouch on Taylor’s bed even more, her phone held in the hand in her lap. It was useless now, but it looked so good with her new outfit so she just couldn’t give it up. Her look might have also had something to do with the fact that she hadn’t been offered any of the lunch Betty had put out after she had been questioned.

Of course, it had taken until Jordan had been done with Brittany to actually be put out, but that was beside the point. Amerie was full—finally keeping food in her stomach—and Jordan was starting to feel the ill effects of hunger.

“Are you going to start asking questions any time soon, or are we just going to sit here in silence and enjoy each other’s company?”

Jordan sighed. Normally she was better than this at keeping her mask in front of Amerie. She settled on the desk Amerie guessed she had been using as a seat for the past couple of hours and asked, “What time did you go to bed last night?”

Amerie smiled and didn’t ask the questions she knew Jordan had been asked about twelve times already. “Around eleven.”

Jordan flicked her eyes up at that easy answer. Oh, Amerie hoped she let down her guard. “And did you get up at any point in the night?”

They both knew the answer to this one, and Amerie leaned forward. “Yes.”

Jordan waved her hand like she wanted more information, and Amerie furrowed her brow in confusion. “Where did you go, what did you do, did you see anyone?”

She doubted Jordan had gotten this agitated for anyone else, and Amerie revelled in being able to get under her skin. As far as she knew, the only Russell’s who had ever gotten under Jordan’s skin were the ones born from Betty and David.

Speaking of, she hadn’t been in David’s office since Taylor had taken over, and she had to say that she liked what she had done with the place. A much better colour palette than the neutrals he had insisted on right until the end. In fact, Betty ceding the room to Taylor had been the first thing to raise both her and Richard’s eyebrows. Darren had been too preoccupied with his wedding at the time, otherwise she was sure something would have turned out different.

She didn’t know what, but something would be different here. Betty really only did listen to Darren with any reliability.

“I went to the kitchen, for a glass of water, and I saw you.” Amerie wasn’t sure if Jordan flinched at the word, but it had to be a near thing.

Amerie looked out the window—thanking whoever the fuck was listening that Taylor’s window looked onto the front of the house—and lamented that she couldn’t throw Jordan under the bus with that comment with real cops around. The snow glistened in the cloud-covered sun, and Amerie would have kept staring at it until she had melted it with the force of her stare until she felt Jordan’s eyes on her.

Their eyes met, and what had happened in that kitchen in the early hours of this morning played in their minds. Nothing important had really happened, but Jordan had had her phone in her hand in a reception-less home. Both of those things enough to on their own to raise questions, let alone together.

“What time was this?”

Amerie smirked. “Close to two in the morning.”

There wasn’t much more Jordan could ask Amerie, knowing exactly what had happened in the kitchen, and the thought of how close her questioning of Jordan was made her heartbeat pick up.

“And when did you go back to bed?”

Jordan’s words were softer than Amerie had heard from her in years, and she still hadn’t looked away. Amerie would be damned if she looked away first. “Probably half an hour later.”

Her voice had been a lot stronger than Jordan’s.

Jordan looked down to write in her notebook and Amerie let her, before jumping up and holding her hand out for it.

It took Jordan one whole minute—she counted—to look up and eye her hand like it was the devil. “What are you doing?”

Amerie raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing? Did you honestly think you’d get out of this without being questioned?”

She felt Jordan drag her eyes up to her face, and she immediately needed a shower. The whole week leading up to this, she thought she would have been fine if Jordan just didn’t fucking look at her. Every time she felt her eyes on her, it was like she left behind a sludge that was almost impossible to wash off—and it got harder and harder to wash off each time she looked at her.

Before she had even had breakfast, Amerie had known she would have been scrubbing her skin raw in the shower that night, but now she thought she might just soak in the bath and then scrub her skin off.

And there were Jordan’s eyes, staring into hers, and Amerie wanted to ball her hand into a fist and slam it into her face.

“Get your own notebook.”

“And break up the train of evidence so unnecessarily?” Nevermind that Amerie hadn’t owned a notebook since she had been a kid. They were completely archaic, and a waste of resources.

No wonder Jordan used them for work.

It took a couple of seconds, but eventually Jordan sighed, and gave into Amerie’s completely reasonable argument. She may not have been cut out for this detective bullshit, but she would be damned if she didn’t know how to manipulate people into getting what she wanted. That was pretty much the crux of her job.

The weight of the notebook was heavy in her palm, and Amerie didn’t step back as Jordan stood up. It made no sense, given that the mere feel of her eyes on her made her want to rip her skin off, but the way Jordan was so clearly leaning as far back as she could as she inched around Amerie was worth it.

Once Jordan had passed her, Amerie spun and took up Jordan’s place on the desk. Either it was how she was perched, or the desk was absolutely horrible to sit on, but Amerie could not imagine sitting here for hours on end, talking to her family.

She had barely been able to stomach them when sitting on the fucking couch downstairs. And there had been food there for the last half hour.

The bed springs creaked under Jordan’s weight, and Amerie waited until she had settled before asking, “What time did you go to bed last night?”

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