Thread: Caught Between [LeatrixSage x Mr Quixotic]

Taco Bell lowers your life expectancy, he threw the caustic remark over his shoulder after he had managed to relax his jaw. Vals smile only shifted into a sly smirk as he went on, so, instead, you can rustle up a healthy dinner for us once we get to the house. After all, the best way to a mans heart is through his stomach, and our relationship wont stand a chance if you cant cook. He was grinning. Fancy that, he looked almost care free. Just a little while ago hed admitted to wanting to murder a man, and now he was grinning like a man that was ruthlessly teasing an old friend. Before she could unleash a stream of snappy come-backs, a patrician rose between them. Shaking her head, Val laughed softly and shifted in the seat to try to get comfortable. The cut on her side was burning, the sensation flaring every now and then in time with her heart beat. It wasnt deep, but she would have to do something about it at some point. Over the relatively short drive, she squirmed around in the back seat for some time before deciding it was pointless to keep up pretenses. She did tell him already that she could slip the cuffs. What was the point in being uncomfortable? And, sense he wasnt keeping an eye on her, she wouldnt be giving away any secrets, either. It took a little stretching, but there was a twisted hair pin stuck in a small pocket sewn into side of her left heel, the ends of which had been filed into sharp points. Once she got her fingers on it, it was no time at all before the cuffs clicked loose and Val was shaking out her hands. So, when the vehicle stopped and the perspex screen began to slide down, Val simply tucked her arms behind her back as Cole told her to Come on in, and be quick about it. Apparently, he was famished. Well, Marshall, let me help you with that. The ass left her to her own devices, but she supposed it was all fair play. As she slid from the car, Val snagged the cuffs tucking them through the little belt she wore primarily as a fashion statement and followed his path into the house. It was small, plain, non-descript a safe house. It smelled of dust, mold, and old B.O. that had permeated the fabrics so deeply that is was a permanent fixture. The walk ways had been trod so thoroughly that you could see the wear as pathways down the center of a hall, or crisscrossing a room. It was well used, which meant a lot of people knew the building. She was still trying to decide if that was good or bad when she heard the clank of liquor bottles. The sound led her to a cabinet that served as a tiny bar, and beyond that, a sparse kitchen. She eyed the fridge, curious to see just what exactly was kept in a safehouse and if there was anything remotely useful to easing the clawing emptiness in her stomach. But, first Oh, she damn well knew it was dangerous, but Valentina Ricci was not going to be out done. As Cole poured his drink, she slipped out of her heels and dropped them a faded chair in the hallway before she walked up behind him and slid one arm around his waist to rest her hand over his belt buckle, while the other settled on his shoulder. She wasnt daring enough or stupid enough to put either hand anywhere near his side arm, but she was not above pressing her curves into his back as she raised up on her tiptoes to place her chin on his shoulder. Correction, she whispered, her lips brushing the side of his neck as she spoke. The fastest way to a mans heart is through his rib cage. Valentina nipped at the Marshals ear, and after promptly untangling herself from the caged animal before it lashed out at her pranced over to the fridge. As she crossed the kitchen, she unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off in order to toss it over a chair. Beneath was a thin undershirt that barely disguised the lace pattern of the bra beneath, and neither hid the slightly darker, honey-colored flesh that peaked her breasts. Pulling the door wide, she bent down at the waist to peer inside. Believe it or not, she spoke as she poked around at the contents. I am actually a damn good cook. Lasagna, Enchiladas, Jambalaya, and Goulash as some of my favorites. But, I can tell that men that dont cook anything that doesnt go into a microwave are the ones stocking this fridge. Frowning, she shut the fridge and opened the freezer, only to laugh aloud at what she found there. How do you feel about Hungry Man frozen dinners? I call dibs on anything with chicken in it. At least it tastes like meat. The soy-beef never tastes like actual meat. Pulling out a couple of meals, Val tossed one onto the stove top and flipped over the other to start reading the instructions. Did you know theres some old take-out in there growing mushrooms? Well, it looks like mushrooms anyway, but green and Vals voice trailed off as she looked up and met the Marshals gaze. She wasnt entirely certain what she was seeing there, but it made the baby hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her heart picked up a rhythm that was somewhere between excitement and panic, and she felt the skin of her neck and chest warm with an uncharacteristic blush. She was actually trying to be amiable, but the tension she thought she had been shaking off came back in spades, along with an awkwardness that made her wish the ground would just open up beneath her feet. Right, Val sighed and tore open the box to slide out the frozen dinner trey. She stabbed a few holes in the plastic wrap by poking it with her fingernails, and then tossed the dinner into the microwave and tapped the 5-minute speed-cook button. When it dings, find a fork and stir your mashed potatoes. Then it needs 2 more minutes, and it sits for 2 more before you eat it. Her confidence was shaking. Why? What was making her so damn uneasy? So, bathroom? she didnt wait for an answer, and it wasnt difficult to find. Once behind a locked door, she was able to take a deep breath. What the fuck was that? A few more breaths, and Val pushed herself away from the door to stare at the locked handle. Now that, that was a mistake. Slowly, purposefully, she unlocked the handle. It wouldnt do for him to think she was trying to run, even if it meant he could invade her privacy. She was going to have to make an effort not to lock doors behind herself. More than that, she was going to have to make an effort to not alienate her bodyguard. At the end of the day, she needed him, and pissing him off wasn't the best idea. Maybe another tactic thin... In the distance she heard the microwave ding, and Val turned to the mirror to look herself over. The woman looking back at her didnt look as shaken as she felt, that was good. One more deep breath, and she flushed the toilet to make it look like she hadnt just runaway with her tail tucked between her legs. Out of the corner of her eye, just as she was about to leave the bathroom, a spot of bright red caught her attention. She'd bled through her Macgyvered bandage and it was seeping into her shirt and the waistband of the skirt. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Val hissed at herself in a whisper as she pulled the undershirt off and held it under the sink faucet to run cold water over the stain. She wasn't really worried about her clothes, she was worried about the Marshal noticing and asking questions. She really, really did not want to explain herself. Or have him poking and prodding at her like a wounded house cat. The Microwave dinged again, and she was officially running out of time. The bright red was down to a dull pink when she pulled the shirt back on. She left it untucked, but still had to fold some extra toilet paper over her waistband, using her belt to hold it in place, to hide the spreading blossom of red beneath. It's fine, she sighed to herself. Make your food, eat, go to bed. He's irritable. And drinking. He won't want company anyway. Pulling her frayed nerves back together, Val focused on how wonderful it would be to go to bed with a full stomach and a fluffy pillow to snuggle, slapped a smile on her face, and left the bathroom.