It Only Leads To Trouble


deckard4_icon.gif lucille_icon.gif

Scene Title It Only Leads To Trouble
Synopsis Mutual insomnia quickly deteriorates into future rage blackouts for one Company agent and regular head trauma type blackouts for another.
Date May 17, 2010

St. Lukes Hospital

It's been a few hours after the girls finally went to sleep in the room. A few hours was all it took for Lucille to come padding out of the room to curl up in one of the chairs outside in the hall. Stopping first and turning to look back in the room at a sleeping Deckard and Delia. Dressed in a pair of dark grey sweats that hang loosely on her hips and a white tank top, her red socks sticking out against all the white and clean looking colors in the hospital.

She sighs and looks out and down the hall. The nightmares are coming again. They never fail to show. Her hair tied back into a loose ponytail, the pink streak can be seen on the side of her head. Light grey eyes narrowed but tired. Just wanting to sleep.

Doesn't take long for Deckard's eyes to slit open in the dark. A change in air currents. The scuff of socks over sterile tile. The sound of two people breathing filtered down to one. Cotton swallowed against and a crust of drool pushed from the scruffy corner of his mouth with the back of his wrist, he slices a lambent glance sideways after available bedspace and determines that there is only one (1) skeleton still sleeping therein.

Fortunately he doesn't have to do much more than look the other way to see the second one through the adjacent wall. A drowsy twinge of alarm smothered quiet, he pushes stiffly to his feet and follows in Lucille's footsteps to slouch himself down into one of the other seats out there. Leather jacket, jeans and boots. He didn't bring pajamas. Probably because he wasn't supposed to be asleep.

She acts as if she doesn't see the agent sit near her. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, putting her head in her arms. She just wants to forget the nightmare ever happened.

"Didn't you love me? Why didn't you save me?

The words she hears whenever she closes her eyes. Lu opens her eyes again, watering a bit. She looks over to Deckard but then wipes her eyes dry and studies Deckard for a bit. "You look tired." She points out the obvious as she stares in the man's eyes.

"Thanks." Dry, flat. Tired.

Deckard stretches one leg out long ahead of him, hallway traffic slowed to enough of a trickle at this hour that nobody's likely to trip over it. His knee pops.

What goes on behind his eyes when he closes them probably doesn't bear much thinking about for those who don't have much reason to worry or care. Or a PhD. He's pretty good at staring contests when they're open, though, goshawk glare fixed through hers without blinking as a matter of course. It helps when you can't see the other person's eyeballs.

"You going to tell your dad I passed out?"

"Nah." Lucille folds her arms and sinks lower into her chair. Eyes forward but sometimes gaze sliding over to eye Deckard. She shrugs her shoulders lightly, "I won't tell if you won't." As she says this, she moves to the chair that's right next to Deckard, turning in her seat to put her legs under her and peer at Deckard.

"How old are you?" head tilted to the side as she looks at Deckard. "30? Hmm.. 55?" she winks at the older man and then she's blowing at her nails.

"Thanks," said again with no more inflection than before, Flint rolls his wrist over enough to cast a glance down at his watch on his way to scuffing itchily over the haggard length of his face. The way he looks lately, fifty-five is a better guess than the truth, which. Speaking of.

Halfway through tilting her an unappreciative sideways look for the overestimate, he pauses in his itching long enough to knit his brow. His eyes go an even blanker shade of blue than they already were and after a wary pause, he guesses: "47."

"You don't look that old. Maybe a little younger." Lucille muses and she blows a strand of hair out of her eyes. "This is horrible. This whole mess, did my dad tell you anything? Why this is happening? What the fuck did he do?"

She sighs softly and runs a hand over her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you don't know much. Unless," she grins widely and looks closely at Deckard. "You have more clearance than I thought."

"You'd be the first to say so." About as much fun as a damp towel and bearing vague resemblance to one through the wiry, uneven scruff of his hair, Flint leans to adjust the bite of his holster into his side. It takes him longer than it should, probably because she starts asking uncomfortable questions. And the sooner he's done, the sooner he has to answer.

Back to eyeing her at a wary sideways slant once he's settled, he scratches his head one last time and shrugs just the one shoulder. "I was given parts of the file. Someone wants to hurt you. They don't know who or why. I'm supposed to make sure they don't until the other guy gets back in the morning."

"So, you have to watch us. Right? Got that part already." Luci says with a look down the hallway. "What if we- uhh.. I wanted you instead of the other guy in the morning.. that is." She raises an eyebrow and places a hand on her thighs. He can take that as he will.

"Because.. I'd rather have someone like you watching me getting dressed and undressed." She says with a shrug and light grin towards the agent.

Tick. Deckard's eyes flick down. Hand to thigh.


They flick up again, color bleeding blue back into pale-washed irises.

It's a little creepy, the way he's still beyond a slight tip of his chin, expression unfathomable. He's watching her too closely, more like a potentially rabid coyote poised to tear into a squishy squirrel on the edge of its burrow than a government agent presumably being paid to ensure that doesn't happen.

"Are you fucking with me?"

His look is returned with no blinking at all. Her light grey eyes fixed on him as she tilts her head and mouth widens into a smile. Like a cat watching a bit of catnip and getting ready to pounce, she leans in.

"Well," voice huskier than before. "Technically, not yet." Eyes alight with excitement and she's inching just a tad bit closer. Unsure of where to go from here, where would be unacceptable, though none of this is acceptable at all.

Decision making where women are concerned has never been one of Deckard's stronger suits. He's lost an eye, lashed out and betrayed friends. Been tortured, beaten and humiliated. It takes him about five more seconds of staring to weigh the potential consequences.

Then there he is breathing a little faster as he leans in to kiss her on sketchy, ill-advised impulse, right hand braced to keep the chair arm from digging into his ribs when he leans. Not twenty feet from the bed Delia's skeleton is still sound asleep in. Two from the door.

So this is what a forbidden kiss feels like hm?

Lu's eyes close as Deckard takes control and she puts a hand on his other arm, gripping it as she tilts her head and kisses Deckard back with soft feather light lips.

No thought of her sister or father enter her head right now. Leaning even more forward, the model's other hand is placed against Deckard's chest.

Deckard isn't all that gentle, but he is thorough — friction as much a factor as experience through coarse contact that stops short of outright force. Testing touch to teeth and tongue and stubble raking rough once she's into it. Taking it further than he should from the start. All in.

She's hot. He doesn't know her. Her hands are on him.

The ragged breath he kicks out once he's broken off is thready with a retarded kind of desperation, reason and self-control kicked to the curb quick as that. "I can find an empty room."

It isn't long at all when Lucille is sliding out of her chair and into Deckard's lap, curled up and kissing upwards towards him. All of what she was thinking is out the window as he utters those words. She thinks to herself as she breathes a bit heavily and then she's grinning at Deckard.

"I'd love too.. a good ol crazy semi-public rump sounds awesome but.." she eases off a bit, hand on Deckard's chest as she looks up to him. Then kisses him again before drawing back. "Not tonight." She says with a wicked grin. "Unless you can convince me otherwise."

Left hand splayed carefully at her side once she's slid into his lap, right still gripped in a wrought iron vice around the armrest, he goes eerily blank again at her refusal. The trouble with things being forbidden is that they're usually that way for a reason, and here he'd already been thinking what she's bound to feel through the stiff canvas of his jeans was pretty convincing. Color blanches from his eyes in a reflexive recoil; his narrow jaw clamps and hollows while he tries to slow his breathing through his nose.

He looks kind of frustrated. Also like the kind of person you don't want to have to worry about tacking 'sexual' onto his existing 'frustration.' His chest feels like it's been wired with copper and steel.

Aware enough to realize that staring her down at close range isn't actually likely to be more convincing than something else he could do that is, say, not creepy, after a few uneasy seconds he turns his head and starts trying to shrug her out of his lap instead.

Lucille smiles lightly at Deckard and kisses his cheek as she slides out of his lap. Pulling her sweats up again as they began to fall, the pants still fall to hang loosely on her waist. She's breathing harder and putting a hand on her hips.

"One more.. before bed, hm?" she cocks her head to the side as she leans in again. She can't control herself, but it's just one more kiss. At least for now it's just one more kiss.

For all that Flint turns his bony cheek from the kiss and looks steadfastly down the empty hallway like a spurned dog, he complies with her request for another. Distractedly. Almost unenthusiastically while he marks out the nearest Men's Room sign past her lean.

Behaving is hard. Even when you're only half behaving.

With a chuckle, Lucille walks back to her room and turns to grin at Deckard's retreating back. "See ya in the morning." She says with a wide grin on her face. She'll be having good dreams tonight, that's for sure.

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