#theintrepid

ever since lucifer left, chloe has spent her time poured into work. has she stopped to rest? yes. but only for trixie. it’s easier to focus your time and energy on other people when you’re sad. 

which lead them to here, speaking with a woman who has information regarding an ongoing case. 

❛ ms. page, ❜ chloe began, looking up from her desk.  ❛ thank you for coming out here, any information you give us will be greatly appreciated. ❜ 

“i got a boot.”  -- @theintrepid

Jess stared at her open mouthed for a solid thirty seconds, her eyes shifting from Karen’s face to the boot in her hand. This was why she worked alone, you know at leas to Trish’s credit, she could beat the crap out of someone with her bare hands. Boy she really didn’t want to explain to Matt that she had gotten his friend killed, somehow she just figured that he wouldn’t be thrilled about that. Even though ... to be fair ... she was pretty sure his friend was a trouble magnet. 

A trouble magnet. With a boot. Jess really would have preferred like a bat or a taser or secret martial arts training. A boot wasn’t going to do much good in a fight. 

“Okay, well, why don’t you put that down, in case someone is missing something, and then, I want you to duck some place, some place behind me. Because when those guys bust through that door in about a minute, I really get the feeling that if something happens to you, I’m going to get blamed for it.” 

❝ you look better in my clothes than i do. ❞ -- @theintrepid

“nonsense, i just look different in them,” she assured her. after all the two women looked different, it only made sense they’d look different while wearing even the same outfit. though she couldn’t say she’d ever have worn the color lavender if it hadn’t been necessary for karen to lend her clothes. 

her own torn and bloody, had to be taken off and tossed. she was grateful for soft lavender sweater and the jeans she’d had to roll up a little as karen was just a bit taller than she was. 

(meme ;; accepting)

His hands smacked down hard on the desk in front of him, “That’s the problem!” A momentary pause, head bowed low, shoulders hunched. He hadn’t meant to shout. It was just the stress of it all, the fear for her. Yet, he did not apologize outright.

Instead, he simply rambled, “I know. I know I said I’d do better. That I’d let you in more. I just...” Shaking his head, he blew out a breath, turning to face her again. “I know you’re strong enough to handle anything life sends your way. I know that, but if I can handle it without you even having to deal with it, without anything putting you or Foggy or Marci or anyone at risk, shouldn’t I?”

The problem was that he wasn’t handling it on his own. Sure, maybe he could do the punching and kicking, and could make the difficult decisions, but it was the after, with the injuries and the consequences and questions of morality that he couldn’t handle by himself. He just refused to admit it.

         it’s nearly two am when they meet up.  it’s at josephine’s diner;  she of course,  is not there,  but it’s the one familiar place that he’s comfortable with.  some of the workers give him a smile,  and a brow raised,  and he’s sure he’ll hear from josephine sooner about why he’s here at this hour.  

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