Participants:
| Scene Title | Fair is Fair |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The Irishman has unconventional means by which he invites Keira to a formal event… |
| Date | December 13, 2010 |
Speakeasy Hotel and Casino — Keira's Room
It's a rather lazy day for Keira. She hasn't spoken to Amadeus in several days, since she had the dream that he was dreaming of the girl she thinks is her sister, or some kind of family. Who knows? Either way, she's quite content to stay out of contact with him for now. She's having one of her off times, really. The small television is on, with Keira idly watching some random vampire show while reclining in bed. She looks much better than she did a little over a week ago, though her cracked ribs are still quite uncomfortable.
Next to her, taking up the half of the bed that Amadeus usually takes up, is Odin, his enormous black head resting on Keira's lap. Occasionally, his large tail thumps against and shakes the bed as Keira pets his head or ears or neck, thoughtfully watching the television.
"Man, Odin, wouldn't it be cool to be a vampire? Run around and suck the blood of every motherfucker who ever pissed me off." She idly scratches the dog's ear, smirking. "Then again, why would I need fangs when I got you, Odie? You're momma's good boy." In response to Keira's praise, Odin raises his head slightly and wags his tail, happy dog that he is.
The sudden hammering of a fist against the hotel room door breaks up the quiet bonding. The noise is brief, not quite urgent but very much attention getting in the way a police officer tends to know how to knock on a door. "Open up, s'the police!" Comes the joking bellow from through the door, distinctive Irish lilt coloring the voice of Detective Daniel Walsh.
Judging from the number of shadows beneath the door, he might not be alone, either. Through that door, on the other side and in the dingy halls of the Speakeasy Hotel and Casino, Detective Walsh leans away from the door, tucking his gloved hands into the pockets of his wool coat, turning towards the dour gentleman at his side.
"Maybe she left the television on," is Khalid Sadaka's opinion, offered with the faintest hint of a teasing smile as he turns his attention from the door to Detective Walsh, the hood on his sweater worn beneath his jacket up over his head, trying to hide his scarred face as best as he can.
The first response is a loud barking snarl coming from Odin as the humongous dog leaps off of the bed and makes his way up to the door, vocally letting those outside know that he is here, and he is protecting his momma. Nobody's gonna hurt her while this coragous beast is around! Keira jumps up, too, before letting out a holler as the action moves her ribs in a painful way.
"Odin, hush! Sit." The dog immediately complies, falling quiet and flopping back on his haunches as Keira climbs out of her bed. She's in her PJs right now, a pair of knee-shorts and a tank top; Walsh and Khalid will have to deal with her state of dress.
Locks can be heard, being undone through the door. Then, Keira opens it. Odin…is immediately between her and the two noisy men, glowering up at the them with a slightly sullen look. He won't trust them until his mom says he can.
Brows raise as her eyes confirm the voice on the other side of the door. "Walsh! I— I didn't expect to see you!" She glances back, after the fact, to ensure that her place is clean. It is, thankfully. If there's one thing Keira can't stand, it's a dirty home. Then again, there are quite a few other things she can't stand, as well.
Walsh had intended on barging in once the door was unlocked, but peering down att he monstrous dog between he and Keira, the Irishman is given pause, one faded red brow rising in query as he remains focused on the animal. "An I didn't know y'owned a horse," he deadpans, slowly looking up to Keira and motionning down to Odin with a waggle of leather-gloved fingers. "Do you mind putting your stallion in'na bathroom or something?"
A look is offered over Walsh's shoulder to Khalid, then back to Keira with a pinch of his brows together, considering her state of dress as he clears his throat. "If you'd so kindly invite me friend and I in," he adds a bit more conversationally with a nod back to Khalid, "we've some business to discuss now that it looks like you're not one foot in'na grave anymore."
"Odin, it's okay. Go to your corner." This is said to the dog in a gentle tone. The first remark prompts perked ears, and suddenly the horse dog is wagging his tail, 'smiling' up at the two men. He almost gets to step forward and lick at hands when the second command comes, and the dog promptly trots over to the bedside, settling in the corner and laying down, statuesque.
Then, Keira steps back, making room for Walsh and Khalid to enter her apartment. Once the two men are indoors, she closes the door, locking it behind them. Then, she's making her barefooted way back over to her bed, settling down on it and sitting Indian style, after pushing out the two chairs in the corner for maximum visibility on both ends. "Sorry for the dinky place. I could afford better, but…I don't really see th'point in wastin' money on anything more plush if I ain't buying it. I'd rather save it." She fidgets.
Then, she smiles faintly to the men. "So what can I do y'for?"
As Walsh walks in, he quietly removes his gloves, tucking them into one pocket of his jacket. Khalid remains in hunched posture on his way in, offering a fleeting look to Keira and not moving too far from the doorway once inside. Walsh seems to be here with a purpose, Khalid is some sort of hanger-on, maybe this is just one stop along the way or something of the sort.
"You've gone and proved yourself," Walsh admits rather flatly, looking back to the door and then to Keira. "What you did with that shop was right well, given the resistance you wound up facin'. A little messy, but t'weren't nothin' that we couldn't 'andle." Lifting up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, Walsh's brows furrow and his blue eyes sweep around the room.
"However, this means you've earned y'self a certain amount of further incentive, as well as a little somethin' I like t'call respect o'your peers." Reaching inside of his jacket, Walsh withdraws a folded paper envelope from an inside pocket, the kind that a bank uses to hold a cash withdrawl in. It's thrown down onto the bed with a hefty slap of the paper. "Ten grand, get yourself somewhere nicer t'stay," is his suggestion on how to spend it.
"There's more where tha' came from. But I can'nae tell y'much more'n that yet. This weekend, Saturday, I'ma need you t'come with me somewhere, an' alone, an' without askin a whole lot of silly questions." Walsh's brows furrow together, head tilting back. "Can y'do tha' for me, dear?"
Keira's brows raise at Walsh, listening intently to every single word that comes from his mouth, even as she reaches for that envelope and opens it, smiling faintly at the amount disclosed within. Yes, it shouldn't be too difficult to get a decent place with this, plus the savings she already had. Perhaps it's time to get herself a real base of operations.
Then, those blue eyes turn back up toward Walsh, a faint smile glistening in her eyes as she listens further. The envelope is placed on the bed beside her, and she promptly beams up at the man, as if his praise just made her day. And in reality, it did. Why she adores Walsh so much, she has no clue, but she simply does. "Thank you kindly!" A bright smile. If it weren't for the piercings and the tattoos, Keira would probably be a very sweet looking girl.
"I s'pose I can do that for you, Walsh." A tilt of her head toward him is offered, along with a respectful nod.
It's not surprise, but relief that crosses Walsh's face with Keira's reaction. He's given a moment to consider her reaction, then slowly offer a nod in response and a mild smile all his own. "I s'pose that's a good thing, then," is somewhat tongue-in-cheek. "I do have one other favor for y'to handle before we get all cozy this weekend with me friends…" Looking over to Khalid, Walsh holds out his hand expectantly.
Khalid withdraws a hand from his jacket pocket, handing Walsh a photograph that the detective in turn offers out to Keira. It's a police mug shot of a young, teenage girl with dirty blonde hair. "Her name's Anna James, went missing from a protective custody shelter couple'f weeks ago. If you could keep an eye out for her, that'd be something sweet."
Walsh's brows lift slowly. "I've a feelin' she's stayin' off the streets, keepin' a low profile. Needle in a haystack, admittedly, but… if y'could jus' let me know if y'see her? Don't go approachin' her or nothin', jus keep an eye out an' lemme' know if'n you find anything?"
Keira takes the photograph, brows raising as she peers at the photo. "…She's that kid who said somethin' about puttin' all Evos on Refrain or somethin', isn't she?" She peers at the picture thoughtfully, then up to Walsh with raised brows. There's questions in her gaze, but she doesn't go about asking questions. If he wants her to know something, he'll tell her.
Then, Keira waves the photograph at Walsh, nodding slowly. "I'll definitely keep an eye out for her. If I see her, you'll be th'first person I call." She taps the photograph to her forehead. No questions, just compliance.
For a moment, Keira watches Khalid thoughtfully. Then, she tips her head in his direction. "You should stop tryin' to hide your scars so much. I like them." Her awkward attempt at making him feel better about himself, probably. Probably won't work, but at least she tried?
"Good for you," is Khalid's sharp remark, "I can give you some, if you're int— "
"Khalid," is as close to a rebuke as the Irishman makes, cutting off the remainder of Khalid's coarse sentiments. The manner in which the scarred man is controlled is similar to the way an unruly dog might have been yelled at. "I apologize," Walsh admits as Khalid turns for the door, "he's a bit sensitive about them, yeah? Not very friendly circumstances what brought that to him." The Irishman manages a weary smile, then scratches at the back of his neck with one gloved hand again, watching Khalid open the door and step out into the hall, noisily shutting it behind himself.
"Mmn, don't mind 'im so much, he's just not housebroken yet," is a little tongue-in-cheek, but from Walsh more of the same. As the detective looks back to Keira, there's a pinch of his brows together in thoughtful concern. "You doin' alright? I mean, what with everything you went through in that there gunfight, I just wanted t;make sure nothin' was wrong. Wouldn't do me well t'have one'f my trusted losing her edge 'cause of work-related stress."
Keira fixes a smirk at Khalid, leaning toward him slightly. "I already have a few, but thanks for the offer." She promptly blows a kiss to Khalid, before smiling to Walsh. "Oh, it's quite alright, I don't mind." She shrugs. "S'understandable." A shrug, the woman glancing over to Odin. "Takes time." Then, she turns blue eyes back to Walsh.
Then, her brows raise at his question. And then, a faint smile forms on her face. "Oh, I'm alright. Aside from a few cracked ribs, m'doin' just fine." She runs a hand through her hair. "Actually, aside from having part of a building fall on me, I kinda had fun." The statement that she is one of his trusted prompts a small, content smile, the woman nodding slowly.
"Thanks for askin'. I'll let you know if I'm gettin' stressed out."
Just fine, she says. Walsh views Keira with a certain amount of scrutiny at that, one brow raised and blue eyes sweeping up and down her slowly. "Mnhmm," he offers in modest disbelief, then furrows his brows together along with a bob of his head. "Well, fair's fair I guess. Just— " Walsh narrows his eyes minutely, "don't push yerself too hard, you'll be no good to nobody if you run yourself into the ground, a'right?"
Tucking his hands into his jacket, Walsh squares his shoulders and lets his head loll to the side as he takes a step back to the door. "I'll be in touch 'bout this weekend, there's some fellers tha' you'll be very hapy t'meet there'n that mix. Ol' buddies a'mine… good idea-men."
That's one way of putting it.
"Oh an'…" Walsh looks Keira up and down again, "try'n dress nice for Saturday. There'll be men in suits."
It's not like she hasn't suffered much worse. She's just happy that she's being recognized by a man that she rather admires, really. That alone makes the cracked ribs, bruises, and cuts more than worth it. "I'll be okay." A bright smile is cast up to Walsh, the woman saluting. "I've had much worse than a few cracked ribs b'fore, this is superficial."
Then, he's stepping toward the door, and Keira is raising to her feet once more, moving to follow them out. "I look forward to hearin' from you, then." She taps her forehead toward him.
"Dress nice?" A faint grin. "I can handle that." Hopefully nobody minds that her idea of dressing nice involves glove-tight dresses in rich colors and a general look that would be suited for a pinup poster. She does so love her pinup girl outfits, after all. "I'll be sure to dress so nice that they'll look bad in their suits." A charming smile.
"Thanks for stopping by, Walsh." She smiles up to the man.
There's a tentative sound of breathing at the back of Walsh's throat as he considers her tattoos. One gloved hand reaches out for the doorknob and turns it slowly, then opens the door out to the hall. "Well, I'm sure it'll get a reaction never the less." Snorting noisily, Walsh glances out into the hall, then looks back to Keira. "Thanks fer bein' somebody I can rely on, darlin'. I ain't had one of them outside of me boys in a long, long time…"
That praise is as close to a goodbye that Walsh gives on his way out the door, stepping into the grimy hall of the Speakeasy without another word. When the door shuts, it's with a certain sense of finality, leaving the opportunity for Keira to leap from this runaway train that has become her life all the more fleeting.
Soon enough, it will be too late.