Ten Feet of Pure White Snow (Nav and Wooseog)

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia figured she had made the right decision by (finally) shutting up, she hoped giving Dean a little bit of space would make him less angry with her. Quietly, she pondered the absolute essentials, everything that would get her through this low point with her sanity intact. There was so much, but after agreeing to pick up Shoe for her, Dahlia felt like there wasn't anything more she could ask for without feeling demanding. She only piped up again when Dean remarked on her personality, considering it thoughtfully before responding with a shrug.

"It's often not to my own benefit," Dahlia said with an unamused huff from her nose, but the bitterness didn't last very long and Dahlia forced herself to smile again. "I mean, you gotta figure there's probably at least a few billion people who have it worse than me. I have my sister, I have cats, sometimes I can even afford Ben and Jerry's, so I don't think complaining would be justified." Dahlia talked while absently doodling on the paper she was given, thinking about what Dean said and wondering if it was a good quality or not. Regardless, he had pegged her right, Dahlia was a giver, and she would give and give until she had nothing to her name if the people around her let her.

Her writing was close to that of a typewriter, crisp and almost eerily neat words that you'd expect from a perfectionist. Her only slip up was caused by Dean, Dahlia flinched upon hearing the word "Damn" and messed up the "s" she was writing, giving Dean a stern look. "There's no need for that," Dahlia said pointedly before going back to writing. But of course, Dahlia remembered where everything in her apartment was, and had already been writing it down.

Les Miserables (On damn book-case)
Photo of young me and Evelyn. (On damn end-table, next to damn armoire.)...

Her writing continued in that fashion until she compiled a tiny list of things for Dean to grab, including a bag of cat-food, and a sketchbook. She sheepishly handed the note to Dean, hoping her notes in the brackets wouldn't annoy him. In the corner of the page, her sketch had shaped up to be a little tribute to Dean, with "Officer Reyez" written under it. Even though the drawing looked like an eight-bit character, the resemblance to Dean was uncanny, with black girls and a stern look, there was also a little Marco next to him. Dahlia flashed her teeth as she passed the list over, but her smile faltered when he asked about Shoe, and her neighbour.

"No, Shoe is my independant man so he stays in my apartment alone, my neighbour, Gladys checks in on him a few times a day, she's right across the hall. You're going to want to phone Edgar, he's the landlord and the daytime doorman." Dahlia's expression grew sadder when she talked about Edgar. She had almost forgotten he would have to find out what happened, he was going to be devastated. "Umm, I brought a birthday card back with me from Jamaica. It's a day late, but if you could give it to him I would be forever grateful. His kids don't write him, so..." Dahlia cringed, and shook her head. "Sorry. I mean only if you want to Dean, I mean, sir."

 

[Nav]

Her dislike of cussing was meant with an indifferent stare from Dean who, by and large, made it quite clear he didn't really care what she thought there was, or was not, a need for certain words. He'd continue to swear just as much as he pleased, no matter how much it caused Dahlia to be annoyed with him. By now, he was just doing a favor to the girl. She didn't know it yet, but he had already decided he just wasn't the man (or woman… or detective, really) for her case and his obligation to her had long since ended. Had she known that, she might have understood better that his deeds being done to her were merely out of his own goodness.

He was a good man, Dean Reyez, even if most people wouldn't believe it. He didn't do good deeds expecting a reward or recognition. Recognition didn't really come with the policing line of work. People often blamed you for the things they did, or for being caught, but few thanked him. Even those he helped were usually too busy being wrapped up in their own emotions that they didn't think to thank their officers. Of course, Dean couldn't be bothered with that. He hadn't become an officer to be thanked and appreciated. He was in the wrong profession for that kind of sap and he was fine with that. Sappy exchanged never really were his thing anyways.

Dean took the note from her and glanced down it, reading through each bullet pointed item he needed to fetch. If he noticed her use of 'damn' or her little drawing, it didn't show on his face. He just folded up the paper and shoved it into his breast pocket. "Right," he acknowledged, giving the paper a pat through his pocket fabric, "I'll see what I can do. As for the cat…" he sighed. The cat being alone at her apartment meant he'd have to try and load the damn thing up into a carrier himself, which of course would not be good for his terrible cat allergies. Perhaps he could try and coax it in with treats or… or he had nitrile gloves in his car.

Did he have a hazmat suit? No, and it was probably unwise to ask for one. He quickly skipped over the thought, though he knew he was going to be itchy, sneezing, and crying all night from the damn feline's presence.

"A birthday card?" What was he, an errand boy? Was this what he had been reduced to? He sighed and shrugged. "I'm there, I might as well." Poor old man, poor old Dean. It was no wonder he wanted no part of her case, all she did was give him chores and pains. "I'll have the card delivered." Slowly, he stood up from the desk and Marco sprung up alongside of him. "But first, let's drop you off at my apartment." A complete stranger was staying alone in his apartment. He very much didn't like the idea. It made him nervous as she seemed the snooping type and there were just many things he didn't want her to know about.

Not that any of it was bad, it was just private.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Now Dahlia had found in the past it was easy for her to connect with people, as most of the world's problems were caused by man's inability to do so. Speaking to Dean, however, was a bit like speaking to Stonewall Jackson, or so Dahlia imagined. Every miss she had with him made her cringe noticeably, her habit of nervously fidgeting came back in droves when she was with the officer. She began to freeze up, crossing her arms as the two of them got up to leave the station. Dahlia was yearning for a safe-house to be alone in now, despite the fact she was ever the extrovert.

When Dean asked about Shoe, Dahlia was quick to answer. "Just put his carrier down, and say 'in'. Shoe is a very good listener, and he's kinda scared of men, so he'll listen," Dahlia said, saddened by the thought that Shoe might be frightened on the way over. He had been abandoned in a ditch when they found him, a year old and starving and terrified of men; the folks at the shelter figured that Dahlia, who was petite and gentle, would be a perfect match for the kitten and they had been right. Dahlia couldn't imagine her life without Shoe-bear.

Dahlia smiled after Dean agreed to deliver the card for her, but the smile faded in an instant, sensing discomfort in the air between them, (what else was new?) "Actually, then I'd have to go through my stuff and look for it. Forget it. I'll find another way to get the card to him," Dahlia said insistently, keeping her head down to hide her furrowed brow. She was constantly trying to suppress the fact that she wasn't going to get to see her loved ones for a while, at least. But she would see them again, if she didn't believe that then she was as good as gone.

"Thank you, again, for sheltering me, and, uh, everything." Dahlia awkwardly fumbled with her words while the two walked to Dean's car. "I promise I won't touch anything while you're out. I guess you can't promise the same thing while you're at my place though. Ha ha, get it?" Dahlia made an awkward attempt at a joke but offered a sincere smile. Killing him with kindness seemed to be Dahlia's last hope. But she would also have to prove to both Dean and herself that she was more than just a burden.

If Roy was in Chicago still, they were going to find him. She'd make a list first thing when she sat down, all the places he had been, or talked about, or even glanced at. Dahlia had been incredibly observant of her flash in the pan boyfriend, hopefully it was all for something.

 

[Nav]

"Alright, well…" Dean trailed off, scratching his cheek as he contemplated if he was about to offer what he was really going to offer. Ultimately, he decided to go ahead against his better judgement. "Tell you what, why don't you find that card tonight and I can drop it off next time I'm patrolling that side of town." Being an officer meant he cruised around lots of the city, so there was a good chance he, Marco, or the pair would be called out to that side of town eventually. The idea of a man whose children didn't write him struck a chord with him, perhaps because he didn't have a relationship with his own father anymore.

The cat, however, was another matter entirely. He still wasn't too pleased that he was going to have to wrangle a cat (even if the cat was obedient enough to get in the carrier). Her entire apartment was bound to be coated in cat hair and dander, so no matter how respectable the cat was, he knew he was going to be sneezing for a few days regardless. It didn't help the cat was coming to stay in his apartment to top it all off. Even if the feline stayed in the carrier most of his duration at the apartment, Dean was still going to be worked up into an allergic frenzy over it. He made a mental note to stop by Walgreens and pick up some Claritin on his way over. It was his only hope.

"You don't need to thank me," he clarified as he packed up his things and slipped his shoulder bag across his chest. Marco was whining, tail bobbing back and forth as he looked up at his master expectantly. The dog looked bored and ready to run and Dean couldn't blame him. Marco was a high energy working dog who needed his exercise and he had done nothing but sit around all day. Claritin and take the dog for a wrong, Dean thought to himself, adding more to his evening 'to-do' list. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he had very nearly missed her comment, but he just offered her an awkward, lopsided grin. "Yea," He said, "I get it."

Not wanting to dilly-dally any longer than they had, Dean ushered them with haste outside of the police station. He stopped only briefly to give a good night to Nelson before stepping out. In his routine, he unlocked the vehicle, loaded up Marco, and slid into the driver's side. Immediately, the radio began to crackle with chatter. Officers and dispatch babbled back and forth noisily so Dean leaned over and turned the radio off.

"Do you need to stop at the grocery store or anything? I don't have much in the house so if you need to get something for dinner, the grocery store is right on the way. Or anywhere else you need to stop? Speak now or forever hold your peace… for tonight, anyways." Dean's apartment, for as nice as it was, what definitely a bachelor pad. He had a few frozen pizzas in the freezer, some miscellaneous food in the fridge, and a six pack of beer, but Dahlia had already informed him she was a vegetarian (vegan? He couldn't remember, what even was the difference?) and he didn't have much to suit those needs.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia knew immediately that Dean was offering to deliver the card for her benefit, that was very kind of him, and she nodded her head sheepishly, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Dean." Dahlia smiled at him but still felt guilty. "And if it's any trouble at all, please don't feel obligated! I'm certain I'll see him myself again, Dean, certain of it." Dahlia balled her hands into fists with conviction, determination, renewed vigour that she had to find in herself every day. "I just know it Dean, this isn't the end of my story," Dahlia said, pursing her lips and crossing her arms.

She offered Nelson a polite smile when they stopped by his door, the man broke away from his work for just a second and nodded towards Dean. "Good evening, Officer Reyez," Nelson said, making his best effort to return Dahlia's smile, despite how doing so looked to physically pain him. The older agent reminded Dahlia of a cigar store Indian, but she felt bad or thinking that, she also felt bad for trying to figure out who was more emotive between the agent and Dean.

But then Dean surprised her, as kitschy as her joke was, he actually responded to it this time, she even got a grin out of him! She quickly turned away so Dean wouldn't see her own self-satisfied smirk, that lasted all the way to the car. Dahlia was buckling up when Dean asked her if they should stop by the grocery store, that was probably a good idea. She had forgotten that she hadn't eaten anything since a mouthful of pasta last night, her stomach growled.

"That's a darn swell idea Dean!" Dahlia said as she tried to fix up a mental shopping list in her head. "I've been starving all day and I hardly even noticed. I guess there's a few things I'll pick up, hmm." Dahlia reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet, finding her debit card through a mess of rewards cards and photographs. "I probably have about twenty dollars left until Friday, but that should more than do me," Dahlia said, deciding Ben and Jerry's was out of the question after some careful calculation. "It isn't one of those high end places, like Whole Foods is it?" She asked, taking a pen out from her purse and jotting down the small shopping list on her hand.

 

[Nav]

Dean had already pull the car out of the parking lot and on to the main lot, listening to nothing but uncomfortable silence and the roaring of the engine between them. Even Marco, who sometimes bark when in his backseat kennel, was silent. As Dahlia began to make a list, it took him a moment to register what she had just said. "Well, you're not shopping for anything," he pointed out with a lazy yawn, beginning to make his way towards the grocery strore near his apartment, "You can make a list, but you're staying out in the car." Even if this side of Chicago wasn't her usual neighborhood, he couldn't risk anyone seeing her and recognizing her.

Not a soul could know she was out of prison except for herself and a few officers. If she never went out in public, there was no one to recognize her, so Dean was going to make sure that until she got passed out to someone new, she wouldn't be seen. She was making a list, which should be good enough for him, though he hoped she didn't get too complicated with her vegan (vegetarian?) lifestyle choices. He didn't even know what couscous was, much less where he could find it in the grocery store. "Make it easy for me, I don't really buy kale and whatever all that often, so…" he sort of trailed off, punctuating his statement with a lame shrug.

He really didn't want to spend an hour in the grocery store hunting down every little thing she had put on her list, when they all sounded more like foreign countries than food items. "Naw, it's just a local Pick n' Save," he said; he wasn't the fancy type and even if she had wanted to go to a place like Whole Foods, he wouldn't have bothered. First, he didn't even know where one was. Second, he wasn't about to enter such a pretentious store because some chick in his patrol car wanted organic, grass-fed, no biotics, whatever whatever whatever lentils. Wait, was lentils a meat? He didn't even know.

Pulling into the parking lot, Dean pulled the keys from the ignition but the car kept running—a unique feature for K-9 Squad Cars designed so dogs wouldn't be left in hot weather in cars. "Give me your list," he said, holding his hand out to her so he could take her list, "And you just stay here, got it? Windows are tinted enough no one should be able to get an identity on you—but you don't go outside, alright?" he pocketed his car keys pointedly.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia was somehow taken off guard by the news that she wouldn't be shopping for her own groceries, not like she shouldn't have seen it coming from a mile away. "O-oh, yeah. Silly me," Dahlia said, shrugging her shoulders and masking the bit of disappointment she felt. Grocery shopping was one of Dahlia's favorite things to do, a little aside from being cooped up in her house or stuck at work. Dahlia also fancied herself an expert at finding deals, she hoped Dean was the same way, she didn't plan on letting him pay for her groceries himself.

Dahlia snorted at the idea of buying Kale, and gave Dean a quirked-brow, crooked grin. "Officer Reyez," Dahlia said pointedly, pursing her lips while Dean pulled the car into the space. "You simply haven't gotten a read on me yet, huh? I'm a simple girl, with simple tastes. I've only ever had kale once," Dahlia explained. She fell between amused and irritated at the assumptions Dean was making about her. On the one hand, most of what he was assuming was harmless, but Dahlia didn't like being viewed as spoiled and snobby. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly decided against it, finishing up her list.

"Eggs, bread, a head of lettuce, two tomatoes, and two cans of chickpeas. It shouldn't be too hard to find, really." Dahlia looked apologetic already as she awkwardly folded and unfolded the note in her hand, biting her lip. "I'm sorry okay," Dahlia blurted out once they had parked, purposely avoiding eye contact with Dean. "I know I probably annoy you a little bit, I'm sorry. And I know you'll say you're just doing your job, but there's a reason you went into your job, and I can tell it is with a good heart. I'm grateful, so, so grateful is what I'm trying, and failing, to say. You've been kinder than you know."

Dahlia finished with her cheeks almost glowing red, she had become a little emotional, but was trying her best to stuff in down in her stomach. She then presented her list, and her bank card to Dean, clearing her throat and flashing her teeth.

"Twenty-seven, twenty-seven is my pin number. I believe I have about eighteen dollars left, so that should cover my groceries," Dahlia said, wrapping her list around the bank card so Dean would be forced to take both, as she didn't want him doing her any more favors. His stern warning not to leave the car also struck a chord with Dahlia, who nodded obediently, without cracking a joke or teasing. "I'll stay right here, sir." Dahlia promised. By time Dean was on his way to the store, she had fished out her sunglasses, and sunk a little lower into her seat, looking at Marco through the rear-view and whispering.

"Lay low, Marco."

 

[Nav]

There had been a time once when Dean was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed rookie cop who believed he could save the world. He thought between hard work, long hours, and a bright smile that he really could change everything, do everything. There had been a time when he could easily brush off the people yelling at him for his badge, calling him a good-for-nothing pig who should be shot, as easily as rain off an umbrella, but those sorts of comments stuck with you. After a while, they dug in deep. His smile became less bright until it wasn't there at all, his attitude became less heroic and more stoic, until he didn't believe he could save the world—or anyone. Everyday, he kept going to the station because if he didn't, he'd lose Marco, and he had no other options.

He had come to expect a lot of things out of people. He had interacted with a hell of a lot of them, and most of them cussed him out, flipped him off, tried to bite, step, kick, punch, or slap him, or ignore him entirely. He had never, not in all his years as a cop, heard someone burst out into an apology, so Dahlia's sudden upsurge caught him by surprise. He blinked at her, looking startled and uneasy. "Yea," he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet for him, "There was a reason once." He didn't really believe that reason existed anymore. One cop couldn't change the world. He swallowed hard anxiously and snapped up her card and shopping list up and gave a nod. "Twenty-seven, twenty-seven. OK." He needed to pick up a few things for himself, too.

It took him about a half hour to shop. He had taken off his badge and slipped it into his pocket as a sign of being off-duty before wheeling the cart around the grocery store. He checked off Dahlia's list, but also through in a bag of kale for good measure. He also decided on a few more fruits and veggies for the apartment… even if Dahlia turned her nose up to them, at least he should probably start eating a little bit better himself. He piled in a few more things: milk, Dahlia's eggs, cheese, dog food, before going to check out. Against her wishes, mostly because he was too lazy to separate out the items on the belt and pay twice, Dean just put the entire sum on his own debit card, packed up their grocery bags, and made his way back out to the car. In the trunk, he loaded everything up and returned.

"Doing okay?" he asked, putting the key back in the ignition and engaging the auto-lock feature before pulling out and heading the short drive over to his apartment, about two blocks away. "I'll drop you off and help bring groceries up. If you could put them away, I can head over to your apartment."

It felt like a long day of errand running and Dean wanted nothing more than to pull on slacks and slide into bed with his dog. Unfortunately, he still had quite the feat in front of him, which included rummaging through Dahlia's apartment looking for a specific list of items.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia noticed the small shift in tone that Dean had as he acknowledged there had been a reason, at one point. Dahlia frowned, but only for a second, before she was back to her usual, confident smile. She knew what it was like to lose that glimmer, that push that got you through the day, she felt like she knew. Her and Dean couldn't have differed more if they had come from other planets, but Dahlia couldn't help but sense a sort of shared tragedy. Whatever they had been through, Dean had fought it by hardening his heart, and Dahlia fought it by opening hers up.

"Yeah," Dahlia repeated after Dean, still glancing away from him. "It can be hard to hold on to hope sometimes, can't it?" She asked. Again she forced herself to look at her own situation, unable to talk with her family, her friends, unable to even grocery shop. One misstep and she was in jail, prison, for twenty years. All that she had now would be gone, her mother and sister both had declining health, Edgar was already eighty-six; by time she got out she would be long-forgotten, or a cautionary tale. Fucking Roy, Dahlia was almost shaking with anger, but quickly snapped out of it when Dean repeated her pin number.

"Y-yeah. Can you guess my favorite number?" Dahlia asked casually, with a forced, non-believable laugh. She watched Dean disappear into the store and then sighed heavily, reclining into the seat. "What am I gonna do, Marco?" Dahlia whined to the dog in the back seat, a steady stream of tears starting to emerge as she thought more and more about what would become of her. She hid the crying by shutting her eyes tightly, and eventually getting a grip over herself, knowing her tears would solve nothing. Eventually, Dahlia could only think about how tired she was, and her eyelids grew heavier.

"Over in Killarney, many years ago..." Dahlia began to sing softly to herself, how her mother used to sing to her. She hadn't gotten to sing much the last couple days, and the opportunity quickly drifted away as she sang herself to sleep. She slept soundly for a good twenty minutes, the most sleep she had gotten since getting back from the airport, but it felt like a second before Dean was back, and Dahlia blinked herself awake.

"Huh?" Dahlia came back a little dazed, but quickly realized what Dean had said. "Oh, yeah, I'm all good," Dahlia said, her voice sounding uncharacteristically soft, not pitchy and nasally like she usually was. "Totally, I can put everything away. I hope the stuff wasn't too hard to find? How much was it?" She asked him, before yawning, and buckling her seatbelt back up. Dahlia was a horrible napper, and she figured she'd be bleary-eyed until they got back to Dean's place.

"I hope you picked up the non-fat, gluten-free, lactose-free passionfruit yogurt, Dean." Dahlia teased, beginning to sound a little more like herself as they started to drive back.

 

[Nav]

"You wanted passionfruit? I actually got the non-fat, gluten-free, lactose-free peach yogurt."

His tone was so blank and bland, it was hard to tell whether he was joking or being serious, mostly because Dean didn't usually make it a habit to joke, which only served to make it all the funnier. He hadn't, in fact, picked up any yogurt as he detested the stuff… it just sort of weirded him out. There would be absolutely no yogurt or yogurt-based products in his household, unless they were those delicious yogurt covered pretzels because everyone knew that was white chocolate and not yogurt, but he digressed, he hated yogurt.

Pulling out of the drive, Dean made a quick shot for home. It was only a few minutes before he was pulling down the drive to the underground parking garage. As the night before, he pulled into his assigned parking space, killed the engine, and went to fetch Marco from the back. The dog lept out of the vehicle with gumption—tail wagging, barking, booping his nose into Dean's hip, all to inform him they had long since passed dinner time and that he was hungry. Gathering up the plastic grocery bags in his other hand, Dean managed to shuffle the car door close with his hip and it locked itself. Keys dangling from his mouth, he made his way towards the lift, very nearly being pulled all the way to the doors by his dog.

Up the lift, out the lift, into his apartment, into the kitchen. It was a routine he knew well. He left the front door swung open and dropped all the groceries down on the kitchen counter before going to fill up Marco's food and water. "Uhm, yea, if you could just put the groceries away, I'll get going. Uhm, just shove stuff where ever, I don't really care. Your debit card should be in the bottom of one of the bags. I just threw it in one at random," he explained with a lame shrug, "I'm going to leave Marco. He has eaten and gone out, so he should be fine. He'll probably just go and sleep on my bed."

He was a pretty low-key dog when given the chance. "Anyways, I'll be back in a bit. Don't go outside," he said, stepping towards the door and patting himself down to ensure he had everything. He didn't bother changing out of uniform; it was probably to keep his blues and badge on as he went to rifle through some poor girl's apartment. "And don't burn the apartment down."

With that, he shut the door and ventured back down to his squad. It didn't take him long to find her apartment complex, mostly because he wanted nothing more than to get in, get out, and go home. He saw himself to the manager's office and, upon explaining the circumstances, got himself a key and some directions before he made his way up to her room.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia's eyes widened in faux-horror as Dean played along with her joke, "Peach??" Dahlia said in disbelief, her drooping ears making her performance even more believable. The only way Dahlia could have been more expressive was if she had a tail. Her fake astonishment soon turned into a lopsided grin before they started driving again. "I guess peach will have to do," she conceded as she gradually began perking up a little more. Her voice took time to return to it's normal, chirpy tone, and even her distinctive Virginia accent had left for a moment when she woke up. It took a bit of effort for Dahlia to become Dahlia, that had never changed.

The car ride was quick, and Dahlia tried her best to help Dean with the groceries, but he had already taken most of the bags by time she offered to help. There were only a few light ones left over for her, she spotted the kale and grinned coyly at Dean, he was just full of surprises wasn't he? By time they made it up, and Marco was delightedly chomping away at his food, Dahlia was completely back to normal, even saluting Dean as he gave her directions. "I won't let you down!" She assured him, figuring the groceries would be quick work. After that, Dahlia wanted to get down to real work, and that meant Roy.

She cleared the groceries away almost as soon as Dean had left, wiping down the counter and organizing everything so he could come home to a clean kitchen. That took only twenty minutes, after which, she ripped out a page of her journal, and sat down on the floor, a few feet away from Marco. "Alright Marco-bear, where is everywhere I've been in the last few weeks?" With that, Dahlia began writing.

----

Cregier Street was the type of sleepy neighbourhood that seemed perfect for a girl like Dahlia, it was quiet, lined with trees, and the only people out were elderly couples on an evening stroll. Dahlia's building, however, was the folksiest building on the street. Tudor style apartments, with an iron fence, and an oak tree in the front which had withered from the fall weather. It was a good thing Dean got there when he did. The night doorman had just began his shift, a kind but impersonal fellow, who just took over for Edgar. Surely if Dean had come at Edgar with news of what happened to gentle Dahlia, the man might have had a heart attack.

Evelyn Harper wasn't quite so lucky however. It had taken fifteen minutes to explain to Edgar that she hadn't seen Dahlia since her trip, but had at least heard from her. After those fifteen excruciating minutes, she was on her way upstairs.


Evelyn was at the same time a mirror image of Dahlia, and her perfect opposite, they were each others foils. The most glaring difference was Evelyn's raven black hair, to Dahlia's spritely red, but the subtle differences stood out just as much. The girls were the same height and weight, almost exactly, with the same wide eyes and pale skin, but that was the point where their similarities ended. Dahlia looked like she had been smiling her entire life, but the dark-haired Evelyn's face looked like it was incapable of even a grin, she had rigid forehead wrinkles and a permanently furrowed brow, she was a dead-ringer for Dahlia's sneering mugshot. The final difference was their color scheme; while Dahlia had a penchant for all things pink, Evelyn wore a drab, purple dress, that looked almost more like a robe, after all, she was a nun.

"Jesus Christ that guy can talk," Evelyn muttered to herself as she finally reached Dahlia's apartment door. Her sister hadn't asked her to come, but Evelyn decided to anyways, see, most of Dahlia's neighbours were close to senile, and Evelyn didn't want to deal with the fallout if one of them forgot to feed Shoe. Fucking Shoe, the name sent shivers down her spine, the only reason Evelyn hadn't punted the little bastard was because of how much her sister seemed to care for him.

"Oi, cat!" Evelyn called as she swung the door open, entering her sisters apartment after taking off her shoes. The apartment she stepped into looked like a mix between a museum, and the worlds cheapest petting zoo. There was a tank of fish near the back of the room that had a nameplate "Hershey & Moxley" it said, the names of the two clownfish swimming around the tank. Up in the corner was another nameplate that said "Charlotte," Evelyn always forgot that her sister had named spider, and claimed it as her pet.

The rest of the apartment was mostly books and photographs. The books were all signed with a neat "Dahlia J. Harper," and were arranged alphabetically. Each photo was arranged just as neatly, but many of them shared a characteristic, people scribbled out, and ripped out of family portraits (it was their father being written out of history.) Evelyn couldn't look at those photos anymore, she didn't hold nostalgia in as high regard as her sister. She turned to look at the small instrument collection in the corner, a piano, a violin, a guitar, all of them had been left by their father, and Evelyn had urged Dahlia to take all of them, as Dahlia had actually learned to play.

Fuck. There he was. She saw the cats eyes under the piano and thinned her own, Shoe and Evelyn got along like toothpaste and orange juice, both of them looked pointedly unamused to see each other, the orange tabby cat was hissing while he backed under the piano. Chaos ensued.

And the chaos lasted for about twenty fucking minutes, as Evelyn tried to catch the cat, she had been so absorbed she hadn't noticed the door opening, and a man stepping into the apartment. "Fucking Shoe, man! You're breaking my fucking ba-." Evelyn paused. Shoe paused, but the cat was near the feet of a police officer, sitting obediently at his feet before Evelyn stumbled back from the bedroom, skeptically meeting eyes with the police officer. "Jesus dude, you scared the shit out of me," Evelyn admitted, before coming to a quick, surprising realization. What the fuck was an officer doing here?

"Wait a second chief. Where the hell is my sister?"

 

[Nav]

In and out as quickly as possible, that was Dean's plan. He's throw in whatever he could into a box and call it a day. If Dahlia wanted something else, well, tough shit. What he hadn't been expecting, however, was stepping into an occupied apartment. Out of instinct, his hand jumped towards his utility belt, resting his palm across the butt of his gun that was still tied into its holster. He didn't remove it, but he felt comfort in the way the cool metal of the firearm slowly heat up against his skin until it felt as though it was an extension of his own body. The cat pooled at his feet and he glanced down to it briefly before looking up at the woman across the room from him.

Her face was unmistakable, but the hair was different. Her hair flowed down her back like a black ink of a tilted piece of parchment. Her eyes were notably fox-like in perception and there was something decidedly remote about the woman, though she seemed just as surprised as he had felt when they first made eye contact. His assumption went quickly answered when she mentioned the word sister and Dean let his hand fall away from the gun. Instead, he stepped into the apartment and quietly shut the door behind him. He made no immediate move to answer her question, though he did step over the cat and proceed deeper inside.

Pulling the grocery list for her apartment, Dean paused only a moment. "Your sister, Miss Harper, has been arrested," his tone as curt as ever, though not necessarily in an unfriendly way. "My name is Officer Reyez, I have been charged with seeing to it that certain personal effects are taken in for evidence and processing. Per Miss Harper's request, the cat is being rehomed." He looked down at the cat, his eyes narrowing with disinterest. Already, he could feel a tickle building up in the back of his throat, but to maintain his own sense of authority, he fought against the sneeze that was trying to claim his breath.

"The remainder of the apartment will be blocked off and searched. In the meantime, you and all close family members will be alerted of her status in prison, if and when bail has been set, and the location of her prison." The more he talked, the more he realized they would have to hash out even more details. Eventually, they would have to allow at least a few phone calls between Dahlia and her family, feigning a life in prison. Those thoughts made his head spin—what if her family wanted to visit? They couldn't just pretend she was locked away in some terrible, high security, no visit prison… that wasn't how the American justice system worked. Even death row criminals could receive visitation.

He reached up and scratched his cheek. Though Evelyn might not have known it, it was something Dean did when he was feeling vulnerable or nervous, even though his face remained as blank and indifferent as ever.

It would be hard to explain why he'd be picking up pictures for evidence, but he hoped Evelyn wouldn't ask too many question or be too nosy about what his business was in Dahlia's apartment. In fact, he hoped the news of her sister's arrest would shock her so deeply she'd leave the apartment at once to go tell her family, or whoever. He doubted it, but a man could dream. "I assure you that she is safe and being cared for, but there are charges against her, none of which I am at liberty to discuss with you at this time. What I can inform you about is that she has taken on a state supplied lawyer."

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

As Dean reached for his gun, the look on Evelyn's face teetered between intrigued and disinterested, widening her eyes a little as if she were daring him to do something with it. Evelyn also saw him come down from his defensive mode, she knew he had recognized her face or rather, her sister's face, it was common as a twin. Shoe, however, was fully captivated by the officer, staring up at him like an unmoving sentinel, awaiting an order. "Well, at least you got this fucking cat to settle down," Evelyn muttered, walking over and picking up Shoe, who only began to struggle again once he felt Evelyn's touch.

Then, the reveal. Evelyn's eyes widened when Dean dropped the news that Dahlia had been arrested. It was horrible, and scary, but she couldn't help but find the tiniest bit of entertainment. "Dollie was arrested? You can arrest someone for wearing too much perfume now?" Evelyn said with a distinct eye-roll, before her brows knit back together, and her ever present forehead wrinkles deepened. "Forgive me, I'm having trouble buying that, Chief, what would you possibly have on Dollie that you could arrest her for?"

The news hadn't angered, or scared her as much as it had gotten the gears spinning in her head. This cop shows up the day after Dahlia's trip, and a day after she heard her sister's voice on the phone. Dahlia had sounded normal, she said she was staying at Roy's. Shit, first time dollie finds a man in ten years and she gets herself arrested? How ironically cruel. But no, something wasn't right, her dull eyes bore into the officer as she pieced together what he was saying, watching how he moved, watching for any hint that maybe he was trying to hide something from her. At the mention of the cat being "rehomed," something clicked.

"You see now that is strange," Evelyn stepped to the side of the room while still rocking Shoe in her arms, she did her best to stay out of the cops way. She trusted cops about as far as she could throw them, and knew what they were capable of if somebody impeded with their work. Evelyn would tip-toe the best she would. "Dahlia basically shares her cat with Gladys from across the hall,if anything Dahlia would want this fella to go live over there or," Evelyn paused and shuddered. "Or with me." Right, like Evelyn would let that happen. Well, she probably would, for Dahlia.

"I get it, code of silence, thin blue line and all. Can you at least tell me when she was arrested, chief? She called me last night, told me she was fine, staying with her boyfriend, Roy." Evelyn stated frankly, her harsh Chicago accent making everything she said sound impatient, or maybe she was just impatient? Officer Reyez here was definitely not going to answer her outright, but Evelyn wouldn't have felt right just running off, Dahlia was all she had. It came to her mind that maybe she could pick up on the situation by looking at the list. Evelyn forced herself to smile, begrudgingly, and stepped closer to the cop.

"I already wrangled this bastard for ya," Evelyn said, showing off Shoe. "What else do you need? It can be hard to find things in this mess. Let me help you." Evelyn said, though her helpfulness was a thin veneer before her ulterior motive; the fact that the apartment looked untouched and pristine made that all the more apparent. Apart from the host of animals, the instruments, the books and pictures on the shelves, the only other thing Dahlia had to show off was a clunky television, and a few seasons of "Seinfeld" on DVD. Les Miserables, the first item on Dahlia's list, was sitting out in the open, the bookmark protruding actually being a small set of photos of her and a man. Black hair, handsome face, and the warmest smile one could imagine, the man with a delighted looking Dahlia latching into him, was Roy.

 

[Nav]

"That is where you're making assumption, Miss Harper," he cleared his throat, "I never said who the cat was being rehomed with, it could very well be the neighbor down the hall. Either way, I think both you and your sister have already come to the conclusion that you would not be the best candidate in this scenario." Her response interested him, but not enough to make him feel the trip was worthwhile. The woman had hardly budged an eyelash at the news and if she felt any sort of emotions—anger, surprise, resentment, confusion—regarding her sister's incarceration, she certainly didn't let it show. Not one to care about another's response regarding their own family and personal life, Dean quickly dismissed his own disbelief.

He blatantly ignored her question regarding what they had against Dahlia, but he stepped deeper into the apartment, brushing past the woman as she stepped closer. He snapped up the list and glanced at her fleetingly. Dean Reyez was not a dumb man; he wouldn't have graduated top of the police academy for his year had he been. He was a smart mind when he wasn't too busy boiling away in self-hatred. "Yes, she was picked-up at the airport outside of her terminal.

"While I appreciate your help, I assure you I will be fine." Dahlia hadn't warned him that her sister may be there and it had thrown him a little bit of his game. He was exhausted, for one—both emotionally and physically. He wanted nothing more than to get in, get out, and go home, but Evelyn was severely slowing him down. Her motives were obvious to, he had seen the same thing before but he did his best to ignore her in an attempt to shoo her away. At very least, he didn't have to pick up the cat.

It was only when he stepped into the main living room a ways did he see the book splayed out. She had mentioned it briefly, and he remembered it from the list, but he didn't really care about it. Instead, what he cared about was what was tucked in the seam of its pages. Tugging one of the photographs loose, he looked down at it and narrowed his eyes. The handsome man staring back at him resembled Dean in some ways: dark hair, dark eyes, tall, and moderately good looking. Somehow, he looked different from the photographs he had seen in his files, though he couldn't exactly pinpoint how.

"This must be Roy Harland." No wonder Dahlia had never suspected anything. He looked so sincere in the photograph. His smile was bright and honest, his eyes gleaming like he was a man in love… yet, he had supposedly fallen in love with four other women in short succession right before Dahlia, all tricking them into the same fate, so Dean immediately doubted the sincerity of the man's expressions. He dropped the picture back on the coffee table and turned back to Evenly, as if breaking from a trance. He reached into his breast pocket, producing a small, white business card that had his name, number, and the location of his home department.

"I'm sure you have questions. Please, don't hesitate to reach out to me. I should really get to work."

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

"Well," this Dean guy was no slouch, Evelyn momentarily faltered but it didn't take more than a moment for her to purse her lips and shrug her shoulder. "Would you like me to drop him off down the hall then? It's probably less of a shock coming from me than from a rather intimidating officer of the law." Evelyn was hardly ever intimidated, but she spoke almost exclusively in sarcasm which was a trait her sister detested. Evelyn snorted after it was explained how she was ruled out as a candidate to take ownership of the foul beast in her arms, she gave Shoe a spiteful look. "I'm devastated," she said dryly.

Her ears perked up when he mentioned the airport terminal, Evelyn sharply narrowed her eyes at the news. "The airport huh? So, around the time her flight landed? Five-thirty-ish? About six hours before she called me and lied, telling me she was staying with Roy. I gotta say that's a weird timeline, not that I'm implying anything. It's just very, very," Evelyn paused and in a moment appeared beside Dean. "Strange. And please, all you need to do is find items? I know where items are, we can make life easy here. Besides, this is a ladies house, you might accidentally find some tampons."

Evelyn watched as Dean noticed the big book sitting on the table, and curiously went for the bookmark. A closer look revealed the book was filled with photos of Dahlia and Roy, each one similarly sweet. There were also some written poems, all with the same writing, the writing matching the black marker on the inside cover. "For Dahlia, the sweetest flower I have known. Forever yours, Roy."

Evelyn tried to look as if she wasn't peering over Dean's shoulder when he asked her about Roy, so she stepped over to get a closer look at the photograph, or photographs, Jesus, Dahlia had a lot of kodak moments. "That's the guy. Why?" Evelyn asked him, knowing he was going to ignore it, but Evelyn couldn't ignore it. It brought to light something she might have been overlooking previously, Roy. "Is that mick involved with my sisters arrest?" Evelyn asked blatantly, forgetting her manners long enough to slander the Irish. He was involved, Roy had to have been.

"I'll leave soon promise, just gotta make sure the fish get fed," Evelyn said after Dean pulled out his card and offered it to her. Evelyn looked at the card and let it hang for a few seconds before snatching it up awkwardly, it was getting hard to hold things with Shoe in her arms. "But I just wanna take a Jeopardy guess here," nothing got past the more acute of the Harper twins, but Evelyn still may have walked out with the card had he not asked about Roy. "Roy whatever-his-name somehow set my sister up for a fall. You found Dollie in the airport, so maybe, weapons? Drugs? Three point five ounces of water? Something so now my sister is under arrest, or as I believe, perhaps not fully under arrest, hence the phone call." Evelyn could only assume that such a ridiculous theory was true, stranger things had happened, and there was something off about Roy. What the hell else would Dahlia do in an airport to get arrested?

"I know my sister. Dollie would never steal, not even a damn candy bar. She's never done drugs, or drank, and you're here lookin' for Shoe and Roy so I kind of think something is up, maybe a little? It's not my business, but if you have siblings you'll know. Chief, has my sister been arrested or am I being misinformed?"

 

[Nav]

Truly, he didn't like how good at lying he could be. He didn't often choose to lie, especially as an officer, but his job was calling for him to lie. If he didn't, Dahlia could be at risk… but it was a catch-22. The more he lied to Evenly, the further and further he spun out his deceits, the more questions she asked, the worse he felt himself feeling. Of course, not a single emotion made its way on to his face. He remained as blank and disinterested as a dead man, though he really wished Evenly would just dismiss herself. He actually did have work to do and like most civilians, she didn't realize her presence caused more issues for police than less. He understood, of course, but it did prevent the irk towards her continuing to build.

"No," he responded idly, "It's protocol that all animals being transported by the Chicago PD go through a health assessment by a licensed veterinary prior to transfer. Furthermore, the new housing of the animal must be assessed prior to transfer. It helps prevent animal abuse." That was actually the truth—all animals that were being transferred under the care of the police had to go through certain check-points before allowing to be released. Of course, the current situation wasn't applicable, but Evenly didn't need to know that. "Our websites has more information about it." And it did, too, if she decided to go look it up.

"Ma'am," Dean sighed, pulling out his mobile phone, "I am going to have to ask you to leave at this time. You are interfering with my ability to do my job and, more importantly, you are interacting with evidence that could hurt or harm Miss Harper's face. If you wish to speak to my supervisor thoroughly about everything you find 'strange' or believe is 'misinformation.' I welcome you to. I can give you his federal bureau badge number and you can reach out to him." Dean was done playing her games. He wanted to go home and, truthfully, he didn't even want this job. He would just throw Evelyn Nelson's phone number and call it a day. This was his problem, anyways. It would be even more his problem once Dean officially declined the job offer. "Elsewise, I can get you in touch with her state supplied attorney, but I am not at liberty to share anything further with you at this time."

These were all the things he just couldn't deal with. He had no interest in working with nosy, pesky sisters who didn't seem to care about the actual fate of their blood. No, he'd rather go back to his routine beat with his dog, only interacting with criminals who shouted obscenities and gave him the bird. They were easier to deal with than Dahlia and her sister, at least.

With his mobile in one hand, Dean crossed his arms sternly across his chest and looked to Evelyn. His brows were arched up his forehead a little, as if to subtle ask her 'are you done yet?' She was just lollygagging, he knew that.

"So, feed the fish."

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

"How sweet, I simply abhor animal abuse," Evelyn said coldly and bitterly, meeting eyes with the little cat in her arms. Despite the fact Dahlia and Evelyn were nearly indistinguishable, the cat had entirely different responses to both of them. Shoe loved his master, and vied for attention whenever she was near, but he liked placing himself as far away from Evelyn as possible. At the mention of a website, Evelyn rolled her eyes. "If the other sisters all pitch in on a laptop I'll be sure to look it up," she lied, as dry as ever.

Fucking pigs. The words had been echoing through her head since at least junior year, sure, Evelyn had been a bit of a shit disturber who probably needed authority to tell her what to do, but maturity hadn't changed her mindset. Men like this guy were the last men she'd go to if she found herself in a bind. They were militarized, they ran on quotas, they were given far more power over others than any single person should be. Evelyn quietly decided it was a damn good thing she wasn't a black dude at that moment.

But this was about more than how much Evelyn hated cops. This was about Dollie. Evelyn was more angry than anything, angry that after all that had happened, Dahlia was still the one being punished. She couldn't bring herself to think about her sister right now, Dahlia was strong, but how much could she take until she finally broke? Fuck. Her thoughts began to get crazier. If she dyed her hair, and took Dahlia's place, who would tell the difference? That was ridiculous though. When the cop finished speaking, and arrogantly told her to feed the fish, it took all of Evelyn's strength to avoid going on an all out cuss-fest. While it looked like she was about to blow a gasket, after an eye-twitch (a shared trait with her sister,) Evelyn took a deep breath and calmed down.

"Oi," the dark-haired twin said as she moved Shoe over to her other arm, and marched towards the fish obediently. "I think I made a good guess, chief. Your supervisor is with the bureau?" Evelyn asked him sharply, gently unscrewing the lid to the fish food and, oddly enough, chuckling. "Now my sister and the FBI have appeared in the same sentence, I was convinced before there was something up, but now that conviction has doubled. Yeah, you know what, better give me the dude's number, I'd love to have a chat with him.

Of course, she wouldn't love a fucking chat with some dickhead who was probably more staunch than this Dean guy, but right now it didn't look like she had any more options. Dahlia was the only thing on her mind. The coldness on the outside was very much a summation of Evelyn, but Evelyn had always wanted her love for her sister to define her the most, Dahlia was the only person left she loved, not that she would let that weakness appear on her face. "Hell, I'll give him a shout right now, shoot," Evelyn asked, pulling out almost the same phone as Dahlia, but in purple, and getting ready to take down a number.

"Right hand to Christ, chief, I'll leave with the number. You can pick through Dollie's shit alone, that seems to be your thing," Evelyn said bitterly, but quickly realized she was not trying to make a new enemy. "You talk to me like I'm the same gullible girl as my sister, which makes you think you know her, maybe even the teensiest bit," Evelyn suggested, her unmoving eyes on Dean revealed a shared connection between the two, determination, or perhaps stubbornness.

"If, and I mean when you see her, be kind. She's been through enough shit growing up with me, after a few minutes of banter here, I'm pretty sure you know I make shitty company." Evelyn wasn't blind to how unpleasant, blunt, and seemingly heartless she was, she almost wore it as a badge. After that, Evelyn twitched again and looked at the cat in her arms, then back at Dean. "Let me put this guy in his carrier and I'll leave you, chief. Against all better fucking judgement, I'll leave you.

 

[Nav]

"Of course." He was painfully done with the entire situation. He hadn't slept in nearly twelve hours, which normally wouldn't have been a problem had he not been spending that entire twelve hours working. Naturally, he knew there were people considerably worse off than he was (Dahlia, for one), but her sister's crude and callous attitude was doing nothing to make him want to take the job. Ultimately, it drove him to the ultimate conclusion that once he arrived back to his apartment, he would break the news to Dahlia that he didn't see himself as a good fit for her case and that someone would be able to do a better job for her than he and Marco.

He and Marco were beats, always had been and always would be. Once, in his early rookie years, he had possessed illustrious dreams of events just like this one: being swept up into an exciting, dangerous, high-profile case. But those had all been dreams. Now that it was actually beginning to truly happen, he realized he was sorely out of place. Never before had he felt so low, unintelligent, and incompetent as he did right then. It was a conflicting array of emotions and he didn't even know where to begin how to process them. There was no one in his life he could talk to. Any police officer he would have tried to open up to would have called him a 'pansy' or a 'little bitch' and even Dahlia's sister seemed inclined to think of him poorly.

The only one who had shown any hope in him was Nelson, though Dean wondered if that was just because he was becoming senile in his older years of detective work. Still, he stoically pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper from his utility and penned down the number of Nelson for her. He ripped it off and extended it out to her. "I would have given you a business card of his, if I had one," he admitted, his tone bland and monotone. "As for your sister, yes, we are familiar to some extent, but I will be unable to help you any further. As I've said, I'm just the errand boy in all of this."

Well, technically tomorrow he would just be the errand boy, but she didn't need to know that. Giving her a fake, plastic smile, he nodded. "Thank you, ma'am." He commented as she agreed to stuff the little bugger of a cat into its carrier. With her last snap at him completed, she had done as she had said and left, which finally gave Dean time to pick through her belongings alone. He found most of what she had requested on her damn list, and he had quickly gathered up a box of her things. He waited for a while, listening to the door leading to the hallway for any sign of Evelyn. The last thing he truly needed was her pouncing on him, questioning why the hell a certain DVD and book were needed for evidence.

Feeling confident the coast was clear, he stepped out of the apartment, box and cat carrier in hand, locked the door and sneezed his way back to his squad. It had been nearly three hours since Dean had left before he returned back to his apartment. He carried the cat and the box up the lift and into his apartment, where he carefully set down both just inside the main living room.

"Dahlia?" he called out to her, hearing the nails scratching the linoleum wood as Marco came sprinting in from the bedroom and slamming affectionately into his legs, tail wagging. He was excited until he saw the carrier, and he immediately grumbled, looking at it suspiciously with his haunches rounded. "Dahlia—" Dean repeated, grabbing Marco by the collar, "Come get your cat, please."

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Evelyn pocketed the number carefully, still watching the cop carefully as he made his way through her sisters apartment. This all felt so wrong, and the mix of anger and confusion was plain to see on Evelyn's face. She had tried with officer Reyez, and was leaving with nothing but a handful of assumptions, and her convictions. She would be calling this bureau supervisor character the second she got back to a phone, but what good could it do her? If the cop wasn't going to break, what chance would she have of making an agent slip up? Bah, she cussed under her breath, and dipped her head towards Dean.

"God bless, Chief." Evelyn left with a sarcastic, insincere remark to catch the first bus home. Only when she was back outside, and alone, did her emotions begin to show. She drove her first into the wall, shaking in rage, then she took off as a sobbing mess.

----

The apartment had a much more relaxing aura to it when Dahlia was by herself. It was simple, there wasn't much to distract her from her thoughts other than Marco, who Dahlia had found herself talking to a few times. On the coffee table, there were four sheets of paper ripped from Dahlia's journal; a few pages detailed restaurants, theatres, locales, shops, while the other two were rough (rough) "profiles," titled Roy and Dwight. Other than the paper, Dahlia also had a broken, first generation iPod on the table that was filling the room with Bing Crosby's voice singing Christmas songs.

Dean's voice almost fell to the background over the music, but Dahlia heard him, and knew what it meant, Shoe was here. She had just gotten out of a shower and slipped into her cosmic-cat nightgown. Her normally straight, elegantly braided hair now fell into a mess of bouncy curls that soaked the back of her dress. Dahlia came running in an instant though, her face lit up in delight when she saw Dean with the carrier.

"Aaaa." Dahlia would have screamed, or squealed, but Dean had been through enough that day, her excitement was noticeable though, and seemed to fill the room. Dahlia bit her lip and shakily relieved Dean of the carrier, looking through at her little gift inside. "Oh my God, oh my God Dean thank you, thank you, thank you!" In a lapse of judgement moment, Dahlia placed Shoe down just for a second to throw her arms around Dean, before quickly realizing what she was doing, and let go. "I'm sorry," she said, bashfully rubbing her arm before opting to pretend the hug never happened. She fell to the floor to get a better look at Shoe, her eagerness returning.

"Baby! You look so cute, I missed you darling, yes I did." It felt like the very first cat she ever got all over again, and Dahlia was overwhelmed with emotions. "Give mama a kiss," she placed her lips near cage, and a small cat tongue flicked out from one of the squares, Dahlia giggled in delight and sighed airily, eyes flickering back up towards Dean. "You have no idea how much this means to me Dean. You're the best." Standing back up, and wiping her eyes, she offered Dean a soft smile. "Did he listen to you? Did you find everything okay? I-I have some claritin in my bag if you need any!" Dahlia didn't know what to say, she knew she would never be able to stop thanking Dean now

"I've gotten to work already! But, I guess you probably wanna wind down huh? That's okay, I'm, uh, a little tired too," Dahlia said, the awkwardness of the hug still lingering. "Would you mind if I step out, just into the hallway, for a few seconds? I'd love to take him out of his carrier for a moment, just to hold him, if that's alright."

 

[Nav]

Seeing Dahlia run to him was what he imagined having a young daughter run at him would be like. There seemed to be nothing particularly mature about Dahlia aside from her physical body. She wore her silly printed night gown, her feet making soft pitter-patters against the wood floor as she raced in with her wet curls bouncing behind her. The excited squeal only further put his mind towards a young toddler girl greeting a father after he got home from work. Dean had never really considered children for himself, nor had he ever really counted himself a family man, so when Dahlia came rushing towards him he just stiffly held the carrier out to her.

Then came the hug and that was an event all on its own. If Dean had been a stiff man before, he grew board straight under her embrace. Every muscle in his body seized as she wrapped her arms around him. He had been hugged before, sure… he dated plenty and allowed more than a fair share of women snake their arms around his neck and shoulders, but the way Dahlia did it was just so innocent he didn't know what to do with himself. He had been so afraid that if he raised his arms at all she would have said he had assaulted her so he kept his arms pinned down at his hips and did nothing. She let go fairly quickly and he was glad for that.

"Uh yea, I found everything, I think." He had tried to go through the list as best as he could, but by the end of his little chit-chat with her sister, he had been more than frustrated. "I at least got most of it, anyways."

She just kept talking… to him, to her cat… and when she mentioned stepping out in to the hall, Dean just gave her a curt nod. "Sure, but first, we should talk," he began solemnly, "Listen, working with you and, more importantly, running into your sister at your apartment, I've given this whole job and situation some serious thought and have come to the conclusion that this—we—are just not going to make a good team. There are tons of really great investigators on the Chicago force who will be able to do a lot more for you and your case. I just wanted to let you know beforehand." Better to find out from his firsthand than to find out sometime later when some other officer came into the cater to her case.

"Anyways, sure, you can take your cat out in the hall if you want. You can lock him in the main bathroom for the night, he realistically can't spend the whole night in the carrier." He'd have little access to water and, more importantly, no litterbox. "I can just use the master bath today and tomorrow." He explained, stepping around her so he could go into the kitchen to crack himself a beer. He was going to need one.

Dinner was another matter weighing on his mind and he opened the cabinets to peek around. Once he did, Marco seemed to appear from wherever he had been hiding to see if there were bits falling to the floor he could lay claim on.