Thread: The Point of No Return (The_PG&Malicious Lullaby)

Ta Abigail, Pratt said with a raise of his glass before chuckling and nodding approvingly of Esther's next statement. Ya, she'd be quite a whippersnapper eh? With another chuckle he briefly thought back to the last date him and Abby had went on. It was typical of their relationship, a kind of give and take. He gave her information on the upper class elites while she gave him some measure of power over those trying to be as powerful as him. He took her intensely honest sense of journalistic honor, and she took back classy dinners and a chance to apply her sense of the world to those who ran it. They both took, and gave, each others bodies as well, and of course that was how the whole thing had started. They had lasted longer than most of each others relationships something Pratt had been rather surprised about, when Abby mentioned theirs had been her longest in quite some time because of an equal amount of intelligence that told each of them how useful the other could be. Useful, an'fun. Pratt corrected himself, he had enjoyed Abigail and according to the source itself and Esther she had enjoyed him as well. The ending of their relationship, something he was sure that he could not reveal to Esther for a little while, had been because of the mutual respect they each had for the other. Abigail for her sense of justice and honor, and Pratt for his power. Unfortunately she had found something that she was not supposed to about his own firm. Because of the mindset she had, she had brought it up to him both boldly and without any hint of shaming, blaming, or guilt laying. There were no emotional strings being pulled, in fact he remembered just how much she had tried to insist that it had nothing to do with how she felt about him or how their relationship had progressed. In fact Pratt had entirely agreed with everything she said, but of course he knew the whole story already. She was working a story about the dirty Judge's that existed within the city, especially this city, and was tracing the money by following the gossip. Without a doubt in three months, or perhaps one with how excellent Abby's nose was for dirt, she would have found that nearly every bit of money in the city led to Pratt. At least any money that influenced politics and power, drug money he stay well away from, but many of his clients paid with that money, so perhaps he did have some involvement with that too. It really did not matter after she had told him what she was looking at. The reasons for their breakup was to free her journalistic voice, so it did not appear she was influenced by her boyfriend . But her reasons did not matter anymore. Pratt needed to make sure they had been separated for a few weeks before she was killed. A pang of guilt attempted to creep into his psyche, but the alcohol and sudden surge of cheering around him pushed it aside easily. As he turned to see what was happening he caught a glimpse of Esther smiling happily at a customer, and then their glance and the smile stayed in place. It would have been so much better if he had met Esther, instead of her friend, she seemed much less inquisitive and equally attractive. But then he would have not been able to produce favors with Abby's papers, and that would have not worked out nearly as well. Would it? Banging a worker in his own building, even if she was not his secretary, that would still be news. With a sigh he turned to game and decided to forget it all until he found out if he had won, or lost the rather large sum that he had placed upon the game. An hour or two passed, with many more drinks, a few brief conversations with Esther that generally involved a memory of Abigail, and a roller coaster of a ride as the game went into overtime and was decided by a single point. By then only the betters and dedicated drinkers remained in the bar, and at this point Pratt had fit himself nicely into both categories. He could feel it, he was rather pissed, or blitzed, or just plain drunk. With a wave of his hand to Esther he ordered a round for the entire bar, deciding it would be his last. Pratt had never needed alcohol to be brazen and bold, but it certainly did not hinder him except perhaps to make his thick accent even harder to understand. As Esther brought him his drink he smiled with gleaming eyes that revealed a little bit of the sadness, and a little bit of the animal inside of him. The animal was mostly not for Esther, but it certainly included her in one of the many things he desired, though at this moment she was an immediate one, and not one of the many that had burned for years in his young soul. The sadness was entirely for her however, having taken her friend if not with his own hands, then with his own decisions. Grasping her hand, he kissed it, and winked into her pretty face. Id be meanin t'what I been sayin Esther, yer a pretty lass, an twice I be sayin that now to ya. Haps ye'd want ta share a cabby hom, I ain't gonna be drivin tanight?