Mr. Wolfe doesn't say much. He usually doesn't have much to say. Actions speak louder, and his is a lifetime devoted to action. It's been a long time since he's seen home. And even longer since he's run with his own kind. But sitting here at a table in a coffee shop downtown, is a creature that isn't kin but kind. She smells like something he should know, but Mr. Wolfe just can't pin her down. Perhaps the strange woman was a part of the Old Country, another story taken away to exist in a strange land? Or perhaps she's something new, recently born to smell ancient?
Whatever she was... she smelled good.
"You called?" He tapped a pack of matches against the countertop.
"You know a guy named Sleep?" Valentina was never one to mince words either. There was something peculiar about him, but it was reassuring rather than unsettling. He probably wouldn't panic if she died.
"I know him..." The prick rides my tail. "What about him?"
"He seems to think you're keeping him and his interests safe. Is he wrong?"
Mr. Wolfe chuckled and flipped the book of matches into the air. Upon catching them, he opened his large hand to reveal they had vanished. "No. His interests coincide with mine. Therefore, a dead hooker on the door does nothing for our business."
"Or hers," Valentina said dryly. "You're confident that he's safe then? As safe as anyone can be around people like us."
The unkempt man shrugged and reproduced the matches from behind the woman's ear. "He's safe with me."
She frowned sideways at his hand, so close to her head. "Don't do that again."
"Do what, krásny pták? This?" Wolfe flipped a match out of the book and slid his palm across the top. It burst to life, flaring red and blue before he dropped it on the table. Instead of dying, it started to spin on the table, sending of licks of flame that danced in both colors.
Valentina felt the warmth of the flames and shuddered. "It's all fun and games until someone burns the bar down," she said dryly.
"Then, it's a party. Like in the old days." He slammed a massive paw down on the match, and the flames died.
"Yeah, it's a riot when you're the firecracker," she said under her breath. "I won't ask what you do for an encore."
Wolfe raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, he picked up the demitasse cup next to him and sipped gently. "Mr. Sleep wants more protection, doesn't he?"
Valentina shrugged. "He looked like he was going to soil himself. Why is that?"
He scoffed and reached for the Sweet'n'Low. "Sleep doesn't get it: we play it cool, or we don't play. He might as well hand over the keys to his kingdom and run. You can't be afraid of every dead bitch that comes your way."
"I assume you're not using the term literally?" she asked. "Although that might explain why he was so twitchy."
"Sleep doesn't know, but the dead girl broke out of the freezer herself. Locks were busted from the inside." He took another sip of his espresso, and nodded to himself in satisfaction. "No other fingerprints, no getaway marks. Can't really think of another explanation."
"You didn't see any signs of fire, did you?" The question was delivered with more interest than the rest of the conversation had been held.
"No. Of that, I'm sure." Wolfe realized what that familiar smell was- ash. It sent a thrill up his spine as he identified the kind that wasn't his own. "Not like it hangs off you."
Her face paled slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
He shrugged and picked up the tiny cup. "Start any fires, recently?"
"Not recently," she replied. "Why?" She suddenly looked very nervous.
He licked the rim of the cup, before placing it back on the appropriately tiny saucer. "Nothing. Just curious." He threw a fistful of crumpled bills on the table and stood, straightening his bijou waistcoat. "Must run, ptáček. Mr. Sleep and I will be in touch."
"Right." Valentina watched him leave and went to the bar for another drink. Something stronger this time.
Erin Y - Mr. Wolfe
Mirren H - Valentina Ash
Whatever she was... she smelled good.
"You called?" He tapped a pack of matches against the countertop.
"You know a guy named Sleep?" Valentina was never one to mince words either. There was something peculiar about him, but it was reassuring rather than unsettling. He probably wouldn't panic if she died.
"I know him..." The prick rides my tail. "What about him?"
"He seems to think you're keeping him and his interests safe. Is he wrong?"
Mr. Wolfe chuckled and flipped the book of matches into the air. Upon catching them, he opened his large hand to reveal they had vanished. "No. His interests coincide with mine. Therefore, a dead hooker on the door does nothing for our business."
"Or hers," Valentina said dryly. "You're confident that he's safe then? As safe as anyone can be around people like us."
The unkempt man shrugged and reproduced the matches from behind the woman's ear. "He's safe with me."
She frowned sideways at his hand, so close to her head. "Don't do that again."
"Do what, krásny pták? This?" Wolfe flipped a match out of the book and slid his palm across the top. It burst to life, flaring red and blue before he dropped it on the table. Instead of dying, it started to spin on the table, sending of licks of flame that danced in both colors.
Valentina felt the warmth of the flames and shuddered. "It's all fun and games until someone burns the bar down," she said dryly.
"Then, it's a party. Like in the old days." He slammed a massive paw down on the match, and the flames died.
"Yeah, it's a riot when you're the firecracker," she said under her breath. "I won't ask what you do for an encore."
Wolfe raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, he picked up the demitasse cup next to him and sipped gently. "Mr. Sleep wants more protection, doesn't he?"
Valentina shrugged. "He looked like he was going to soil himself. Why is that?"
He scoffed and reached for the Sweet'n'Low. "Sleep doesn't get it: we play it cool, or we don't play. He might as well hand over the keys to his kingdom and run. You can't be afraid of every dead bitch that comes your way."
"I assume you're not using the term literally?" she asked. "Although that might explain why he was so twitchy."
"Sleep doesn't know, but the dead girl broke out of the freezer herself. Locks were busted from the inside." He took another sip of his espresso, and nodded to himself in satisfaction. "No other fingerprints, no getaway marks. Can't really think of another explanation."
"You didn't see any signs of fire, did you?" The question was delivered with more interest than the rest of the conversation had been held.
"No. Of that, I'm sure." Wolfe realized what that familiar smell was- ash. It sent a thrill up his spine as he identified the kind that wasn't his own. "Not like it hangs off you."
Her face paled slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
He shrugged and picked up the tiny cup. "Start any fires, recently?"
"Not recently," she replied. "Why?" She suddenly looked very nervous.
He licked the rim of the cup, before placing it back on the appropriately tiny saucer. "Nothing. Just curious." He threw a fistful of crumpled bills on the table and stood, straightening his bijou waistcoat. "Must run, ptáček. Mr. Sleep and I will be in touch."
"Right." Valentina watched him leave and went to the bar for another drink. Something stronger this time.
Erin Y - Mr. Wolfe
Mirren H - Valentina Ash
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