It's All Relative (Monster Teeth and Verse)

[Monster Teeth]

Many times through out her short career she had thought of this. Each criminal deserved his own crimes, meaning, what goes around comes around. Her throat shifted as the meat slid down it, she wiped her mouth, unceremoniously with the back of her hand. "Hm. Well, I'd restrain his body, his sound, his sight, I'd make him sit there in complete emptiness. Perhaps his mind can only stay in it's current sanity for so long. Eventually he may just go nuts. Maybe... maybe he'd ask for death and I wouldn't allow it. I'd make him sit there in his mind for as long as he can live." That was all she could think of, setting a creative mind in a setting where they can do nothing, see, hear, touch, express nothing.

"I would want him to feel the nothingness, I'd want him to indulge in the pride he must have for getting away with these. I want those previous thoughts to replay beneath those eyelids.. over.. and over.." She gently moved aside sweet peas. Her voice had trailed off in thought. Perhaps it sounded to gruesome? "Or... I'd simply break every bone in his body until he dies. He deserves to feel pain for such sick things he's done." Alexandria gave a simple laugh before looking at her watch. "Shit.. Hey, I need to go back to work in about fifteen minutes. I'll call you when you've been approved for clearance, ok?" She gently smirked, brushed some hair aside and reached in her jacket pocket. Quickly, ten bucks was pulled out and tossed across the table. "I'll pay you the rest for lunch later, I don't usually carry cash on me." Alexandria began to frantically gather her things, fearing she would be late. "And.. again.. Ingram, thank you for even picking up the phone last night." Her voice was calm and sincere as vivid green eyes looked over to the man. He was handsom, as if an inhuman creature from an old painting.

 

[Verse]

He listened intently, faded irises clutching stark black pupils behind the lenses of his most trusted shields. There was a certain intensity there, in her spirit when she spoke, like she was breathing combustible fumes. He wondered if he kissed her now, and rolled their tongues together, if she would taste like gasoline. Or would it simply be the flavor of pure vengeance, maybe even justice? Ingram had to convince himself not to scratch at the tale between them and pull himself over, toppling their plates and glasses, so that he could lock his teeth around her throat, stopping the meat she was swallowing in that instance. It would be beautiful, too. No blood, just a bruising, blunt hold on the cartilage rings holding up her esophagus.

He'd never forgive himself for such a waste of all this planning. It would even have made Liza's death for nothing. If Alexandria was inclined toward such masochism, a diner shouldn't be the place where she discovered it. He settled for his own food instead, committing to memory the things she gave him about her self. Did she realize that in telling him how she would punish evil, she also let him peer into her, and collect clues as to what she might deem intolerable torture, if she was to be captured. Of course, this was an exercise in theory. She was hoping to exploit The Creators weaknesses, and thereby not directly giving away her own. Still. It let him know that a persons torment should be linked to what they prized the most.

When she stood he waved the offer to pay away. Quickly he wiped his mouth from excess blood, if there was any and nodded with a bright smile. "I'll take care of it. You'll get the next one, now that we're going to work together." It was a tantalizing though. He would have helped her with collecting her things, but mostly, on this small surface, would be too much. She could always write it off as him being awkward in social situations, if she thought he was being rude. Ingram shrugged. "The phone rang and I liked the called id. So I answered. You would have done the same for me, Lexi." And that much was true. He wanted badly to touch her in some manner, but having watch the train wreck with Steve, he decided against it. She'd had her traumatizing touches for today.

James got out of the office, sweating bullets underneath his frosted hair. He took care of his exterior, which meant he'd allow for vanity where it wouldn't be out of place for a man. Hair and cologne basically, since there was already a certain dress code for his line of work. His beard was a neat shadow and his hair was always in place, brushed back and sprayed. Not that their boss had been impressed today. What the fuck did he know? Nobody was meeting quota on arrests and definitely not closing cases. They were getting nowhere on the Creator thing and new small fry were popping up, most of them unrelated, probably, but close geographically, enough so that they'd be linked. He needed a jd at the bar. No. He needed Morrer.

Ingram put his hands in his pockets as he looked at her. Perhaps one more taunt, without her knowing. "You know, Lexi." he said, coming closer to lean in. It wouldn't be prudent to talk about these things too loudly. Did she feel his intent then, the aura of all his sins crashing against her like a hybrid between scent and heat? Like an external feeling, a blanket of his ill deeds? He hoped so. Detectives weren't allowed to think in terms of such superstition. It would make for delectable confusion, on her part as he whispered in a voice that was dangerously close to his real one. "It could very well be that he'd enjoy all those things. or would you?" the 'S' was emphasized, softly hissed, to leave the eardrum of her left ear quivering along with its frequency, long after he had straightened and taken a step back.

James quickly found her number in his directory and slid the bra to call her. One ring. Two.

Ingram smiled and raised his eyebrow tauntingly at the signal that came from her. Saved by the phone. He winked at her before retuning to the table, looking up at his closest friend as he had another bite of his meal. In her eyes, he might seem rather smug. It would be on a playful note.

"Ey, Morrer. We are in a bind. Sarge's kind of in one of his moods. Do you have any leads on anything? I get the feeling we better come up with something new soon." James would say, whens he picked up.

 

[Monster Teeth]

It was always a delight to someone when they are givin a surprise, for the most part. Some come in obvious ways and some scratch beneath your tender flesh, screaming for freedom. That surprise may lead to suspicion.. or fear. As Ingram whispered words into her unsupecting ear, a tone she'd only heard once. That night she could barely remembered, when they had kissed and she was almost hammered. But, even then his tone was different. Her tan skin broke out into gooseflesh, the small, thin hairs standing up all over. Her hands had frozen in motion. What?
Who would enjoy such things? Not her. And that surprised her. Why would ingram, awkward, lanky, quiet Ingram. Her body stiffened as her phones ring tone went off. A chello playing off a lovely tune. She nodded and picked up her back, fliping the phone to her ear. "Morrer... Well.. depends.. We may have a new guy working with us, he's an old friend James. What stick lodged itself up boss's ass this morning? He did seem reluctant to even hear me out this morning." Alexandria looked down at Ingram, ignoring her money. She leaned down for a hug, one where her supple breasts wound up pressed against his head. She stood back up and nodded. "I'll call you later Ingram.. " She muttered before the clank of her heels were followed by a ringing as the door was opened.

 

[Verse]

Then he was alone. Lift of his fork, cut of his knife. Straight back and hunched shoulders. Not even when a particularly broad curtain of sun laid across his face, helping the lens to cook his eye, did he move out of position. Chewing with his left cheek, chewing with his right. It seemed normal enough, homely almost, but between ignoring the distractions of the surroundings, and the strange regularity with which he moved and consumed his meal, the man the woman had called Ingram didn't seem part of the scene. Black clothes were the most living aspects about him. Rhythm, if you were prying. Few do, in the lunch rush. And when he had finished his meal, he set the plate aside with its utensils, to reach for hers, positioning it in front of him. Use her silver. Another mechanic treatment. He drank the coffee's in the same automatic scheme.

The only one who saw was little Allen in the corner, who laughed occasionally. Mom would tell him to stop staring. When he remember father tell him to be weary of things that aren't motivated by normal things like food and shelter, Allen became deathly quiet. 'Because those are things you can't negotiate with.' Then, of course, when the thing had drank the last drop of the last cup, he left a decent tip and looked to his side, meeting the seven year old blue eyes with the white of his. It had been long since Allen was allowed to cry. He did then, hysterically. Mom picked him up into her lap, and apologized to the friend, she said he wasn't usually like this. Other people should be able to tell his mother had become unused to comforting him, when she did so like he was still a baby. Those people only noted the crying boy, and not the reason for the tears. It was free to slip out. The bell chimed once in relief.

James sat down by his desk with the rest of his sandwich. Boss Callahan had seen it fit to chew him out on lunch break, while he sat down and had his own meal. A calzone, of course. The scent of whatever meat and cheese the break pocket had been packed with didn't make standing there, listening easier. It might have been tolerable if the man with graying hair had the gift of speaking while eating. James respected his superior, knew well how hard it could be to call the shots and be responsible, but damn it if he didn't eat like a little kid. The napkin on his collar should have been a fucking bib. So now James was hungry and disgusted at the same time. He picked up the salami between rye.

"I know. I think the uppers are riding him. Doesn't seem to be a mood thing, you know. He seems almost calm about the stress, if that's even possible." He bit down on his sandwich, and immediately became glad that he did. "Wait what?" Crumbs cascading onto his keyboard. He'd deal with that later. "You bringing someone in on this? Is this about all the things you wanted cleared before? Who is this? Is it going to help us?" He found that he was rubbing his tongue against the front of his teeth, which meant it had been too long since his last bite. James continued to eat alone in the rather large office, many desk in different stage of mess littering the floor that was their battleground. White boards with pictures and red marker, windows with blinds along the walls.

"Maybe this new guy can help us, eh?" Hopeful, as he looked around for the coke he'd been drinking. Three desk to the left, of course. He knew because he was the only one who bought Zero. Not the only one who drank it, but the only one who'd go through the trouble of walking two blocks to the restaurant that had it in can. It was Bassman's desk. Fucking Bassman. James got up and took long steps toward the drink, sandwich still in hand. "I think Callahan will okay anything at this point, as long as we get results." She would be able to hear him drink on the other side, maybe note that he cussed as well. And the sound of aluminum being crushed. "Either way. Today is hustle day. Come to the office and we'll look over files."