#sheruffs

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙲𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂.   /   @sheruffs​ said :  [ passing confidence ]  –  for the sender’s muse brush their finger’s against the receiver’s muse’s hand, too scared to hold their hand.

keeping  secrets,  for  better  or  worse,  has  always  been  something  she  excels  at  ----------  it's  a  talent  that  came  to  her  naturally,  a  delicate  line  she  learned  to  walk  between  her  parents  always  seeking  the  truth  while  her  great  aunt  instilled  in  her  the  importance  of  keeping  some  things  close  to  the  chest  and  hidden  away. (  it's  a  talent  that  was  acknowledged  and  honed  the  moment  she  set  foot  inside  the  academy;  and  one  of  the  few  lessons  she'd  learned  that  she'd  managed  to  keep  up  with  this  far  into  her  career.  )

with  him  she's  reminded  of  the  importance  of  that  skill  of  hers  --------  the  fact  that  neither  one  of  them  should  be  in  the  same  room  with  one  another  let  alone  working  together  (  once  would  have  been  enough  to  get  the  both  of  them  in  trouble,  but  the  frequency  of  this  partnership  and  the  fact  that  neither  one  of  them  seems  to  know  how  to  end  it  only  increase  the  risks  they  share  the  longer  they're  together.  )

but  he's  a  secret  she  doesn't  mind  keeping;  he's  helped  her  and  she  him,  tonight  being  no  different  in  how  quickly  she  comes  when  he  calls. the  rendezvous  is  just  as  familiar  -------  two  figures  lingering  in  that  place  between  shadow  and  street  light,  backs  against  the  brick  and  waiting  for  something  to  happen. which  it  does,  after  the  appearance  of  a  hushed  conversation  and  two  pairs  of  shoes  just  out  of  sight  around  the  corner. it's  then  she  feels  the  brush  of  something  warm  against  the  side  of  her  hand  ------  it  lingers  a  little  too  long  to  be  clothing  or  something  similar,  the  warmth  quickly  registering  as  his  hand  right  beside  hers. (  all  it  would  take  is  for  him  to  hook  a  finger  around  hers  and  slide  in,  palm  to  palm. the  fact  that  he  hasn't  yet  ---------  she  has  to  wonder  if  she  should  instead.  )  

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙲𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚂.   /   @sheruffs​ said :  [ passing confidence ] --  for the sender’s muse brush their finger’s against the receiver’s muse’s hand, too scared to hold their hand.

the  wait  for  the  'all  clear'  feels  as  if  it's  taking  forever. her  impatience  in  wanting  to  move  has  nothing  to  do  with  present  company,  of  course,  she's  already  taken  to  leaning  more  against  him  than  the  rick  wall  behind  the  two  of  them  without  even  realizing  it. it's  more  about  the  unknown  aspect  of  all  this  ------  what's  waiting  (  if  anything;  but  with  the  way  bigby  had  reacted,  she's  gotten  to  the  point  in  their  partnership  now  where  his  eyes  and  gut  are  just  as  accurate  and  trustworthy  as  hers  )  around  the  corner  that's  got  the  pair  of  them  pressed  in  close  in  what  is  closer  to  an  alcove  than  it  is  a  proper  alleyway.

her  fingers  drum  silently  against  the  bricks,  dividing  her  attention  between  the the  sliver  of  street  they  can  see  from  here  and  up  at  him,  wondering  which  one  will  reveal  the  next  step  in  all  this  first. she  sighs  --------  a  little  louder  than  she'd  intended  during  one  of  her  gazes  out  at  the  street,  and  the  frustration  of  it  all  is  seemingly  met  with  what  feels  like  something  brushing  against  the  back  of  her  hand.

his  hand,  she  realizes  after  a  momentary  pause;  a  light  brush  against  her  knuckles  that  calms  their  tap tap  tapping,  but  doesn't  linger  much  longer  than  that. without  even  realizing  she  does  it  the  corners  of  her  mouth  dip  downwards  ------  without  realizing  from  where  he  is  he'll  be  able  to  see  it  too  ------  curious  as  to  why  the  touch  had  been  so  fleeting  in  the  first  place.