Widowers are male.
( feels like an odd thing to point out, but maybe he’s just being pedantic for the fun of it. )
Then again, maybe Shawn from gym class will be sad when I tell him.
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ i’m not arranging a funeral for something i have no affiliation with. ( she retorts dryly, faint smile emerging again as she lets herself play along. ) won’t it leave widowers? grieving orifices? get one of them to do it.
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You know, you could probably make my dick shrivel up and fall off if you keep talking like that.
( but he’s smiling, lopsided and genuine. )
Pretty messed up goal. When it slides down my pant leg and rolls on the floor, I expect a funeral. Nice Viking send off.
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( eyes close with a frustrated, vaguely-amused sigh as she decides whether to let him squirm out of this one, too. maybe he’ll figure it out one day. )
if you were a worm i’d snip you in half to see if you could survive.
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Sure, but I don’t shave very often.
( a shrug. she’s right, not that she needs to know. it’s better to just let things happen as they happen. maybe lou will figure it out one day. )
Would you still go through my things if I was a worm?
⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ how you feel. you’re always… ( her gaze drifts as she chooses her words. ) worming out of things. making excuses. running away from your emotions.
when the answer is right in front of you.
( eyes lock, playful. ) ever heard of occam’s razor?
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“We’re partners,” he repeated again, because honestly he wasn’t sure how best to answer that. A few months ago, maybe they were a…something. And then, the Witch arrived. Now, it felt up in the air in a way that smarted at something in his chest.
Without really thinking, he +
⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ah, she’d hit a nerve there, which meant she needed to keep pressing, picking at it like an open wound. she couldn’t necessarily stop him using his phone, but the look she shot him in response to the frenzied texting was reminiscent of a teacher raising her —
⠀
moved out of the way, allowing her into the kitchen. Teeth worried at his bottom lip, brain torn in two — the ever present concern about Lou and whatever the fuck was happening right now in his apartment. “Hey — uh. Miss Detective. You need like…a fucking warrant, right? +
⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( hm. didn’t take the bait. little head tilt. looking at him like he’s under a microscope. )
you lie all the time. to yourself, more than anyone.
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⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ( she doesn’t withdraw, light eyes boring into dark ones, testing his resolve. )
strange, i’m catching a whiff of something right now. ( pursing her lips, contemplative. bordering on flirty. ) but i don’t think it’s bullshit?
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need to know? He’s like…work colleague. I’m sure you have those too.” Something about her line of questioning way beginning to make him sweat, nervous and on edge.
Casually, he pulled his phone out, going to the top name of his favourites to send a quick text.
> LOU. COP HERE. THINKS IM PART OF TRAIN THING ????
> ASKING AB U
> PUT UR DICK AWAY !!!
There, that’s sorted. He’d be over instantly, surely.
“Uh — Lou. He’s not — why would you +
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ghost hunters. as far fetched as it seemed, in her experience, that wasn’t an answer someone trying to lie would give, so there was probably some truth to it. his bizarre collection of knick-knacks attested to that, as did some of the books. it wasn’t something —
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Lemme guess.
( a grin of his own, daring to lean a little closer under the guise of inspecting her face. )
You know what? I bet your nose is built to sniff bullshit. Like it has a smell to you. Pretty fucking cool superpower.
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⠀⠀ ⠀ ( okay, that makes her smile, something uncertain and odd on her face that has her looking away to hide it. )
nothing as good as picking bugs out of hair.
⠀
Are you saying that because I have a large supraorbital ridge? Great apes are a reflection of the true self — my brow bone is a sign that I’m fuckingggg smart and good at gathering berries and picking bugs out of hair. What’s your superpower?
organized, to keep things in their place. Everyone would be happy and safe if everything stayed the way it was. “Can you — uh. Tell me what you’re looking for now?”
How could she possibly assume anything other than his job from his vague description? Cops sucked. He sighed, padding out of his room finally to watch her fuck up his workbench. “No, we’re ghost hunters. Duh.” A gesture back at the shelf of curiosities. “My partner can’t keep +
⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ her touch was gentle. conscientious. both for his sake and the sake of whoever might end up studying this later should he turn out to be involved. the notes were indecipherable without context, mostly numbers and vague diagrams. she would’ve liked to examine —
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the haunted shit in his place because he goes full freako about it.”
Watching her work her way through his things made his fingers itch — he reached out to straighten a few items, trying to avoid the impending sense of dread curling in his stomach. It was important to stay +