[Izzy Montoya] She still thinks of it as John’s, even though more of her things have found a place here – her toothbrush (one of many, really, considering the time she spends at the station, too, and the one in her car, but whatever) in the bathroom, a change of clothing here, there, her favorite beer in the fridge… They spend a lot of time together, and though they’re taking their time deciding on if it’s going to be hers, his, or a brand new theirs – she’s as comfortable here as she is at her own place.
Which is why, when he suggested drinks, she didn’t bat a lash, but simply stated she would be there as soon as the paperwork was done. And so, here she is, sneaking up the stairs (as they still argue about that!) with a paper bag against one hip, and her cell phone in her other hand as she flips through some last minute notes.
The first he’ll know of her arrival is the knock on the door – ratatattat, shave and a haircut.
[John Thornton] Her simple tattoo upon the door is answered in kind, six pence on the other side of the door. Then, the sound of locks being switched, before John opens the door. His smile is fatigued but genuine, as though he were truly glad to see her after a hard day at work.
Cases had kept him very busy lately; the drug problem was getting worse. A pile of paperwork that had followed him home in manila folders sat upon the coffee table, and upon that a plate of left overs that he’d microwaved upon his arrival at the apartment.
A bottle of scotch and a tumbler of amber colored ice rested beside the pile.
“Welcome home, Iz.”
He backs away a step to hold the door open for her; her hands were obviously full even were he not the least the gentleman. In that spirit, upon closing the door behind her… And locking the multitude of locks upon it… he turns to help her lighten the load as best he can by taking the paper bag toward the kitchen.
His shoes were paired neatly by the closet to the outer door, the blazer he’d worn today hung from the door handle to keep the paired shoes company. His pistol and leather shoulder harness, as well as his badge and wallet, rested in a tidy pile upon the coffee table near the tumbler and scotch.
The half empty pack of cigarettes would answer the day he’d had, were she to voice the question…
Thankfully, he only smoked outside the building, which meant the pervasive scent of fire didn’t linger on his person or the apartment to any appreciable degree.
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly, and then lips curl into the smile that only a few see, and him more than most. “Thanks.”
She gives up the bag of beer easily enough, and watches him as he moves toward the kitchen, dark eyes taking in every bit of his form, the exhaustion apparent even in the littlest ways that he moves. She finally looks away, and slips from her jacket, hanging it next to his, and kicking off her shoes – which land in a pile not at all neatly paired next to his. She moves toward the coffee table, unclipping her holster from the small of her back, dropping her cigarettes next to his, pulling her badge from around her neck all to join the pile on the coffee table.
Only then does she flop back on the couch and prop her stocking feet on the edge of the table. She saw the answer already, but asks anyway – with a chuckle as she drags her fingers through her hair and settles back to relax for the first time today…
“And how was your day, dear?”
[John Thornton] A simple clink as glass dances with the heavy refrigerator door’s motion, before John returns from the darkness of the other room. A bottle of the beer in hand for her, a fresh tumbler of ice for him. With a shrug, he sits beside her and hands her the beer.
“3 coffin nails and a dead informant before lunch…”
Which was John’s way of saying not very good. Then, he raises a curious brow and begins to drown the ice cubes in his tumbler with scotch.
“How was yours, Iz?”
[Izzy Montoya] She takes the bottle of beer, and watches him as he sits beside her, going so far as to shifting her weight so that her thigh touches his, her hip, her shoulder. It’s a subtle shift, but from her, it tells a great deal of her comfort here – with him.
“Three crime scenes – visited twice, of course, so i can do my thing on my own – and more paperwork then i even want to think about tonight.”
A beat, and then a soft snort. “All on a day when I was offkilter anyway.” Deceptively mild.. “Had a visit from Kora.”
[John Thornton] With that simple name, John’s expression turns guarded… Somehow mention of the family seemed to do that.
“Kora… As in, trueborn Kora?”
His arm makes its way around Izzy’s shoulders, pulling her close to him as he leans back on the couch from pouring scotch in the glass. After a drink, he speaks again.
“What did she say that has you so ill at ease?”
[Izzy Montoya] She’s tense. That much he can see – and even feel as he slides his arm around her. She leans into him with an ease that would startle herself if she allowed herself to question it – she doesn’t. She simply leans into him and even lets her head fall to his shoulder, tipping her face to his neck to breathe him in, to steady herself with the familiar scent of his skin.
“Yeah.” The emphasis he puts on true brings a slight smirk to her lips, followed by a brief chuckle. She lifts her head to take a swallow or three of her beer, before she continues. “Well, first, she’s the new Jarl. Then she said she didn’t disapprove of our ‘union’ and ‘relationship’ and then…”
a pause, and another drink. “Then she said that because she didn’t disapprove, she would not allow any out of tribe garou to challenge for either of us….”
Oh yeah. There’s more…
[John Thornton] John’s brow rises curiously once again…
“So… What’s the bad news?”
With but the merest tightening of his jaw, John takes a swig of the liquor in the tumbler, burning as it did the whole way down his esophagus.
[Izzy Montoya] She huffs a breath, and lifts a hand to push back her hair, holding it briefly at the back of her skull before letting her free hand fall, and slide along his thigh. “Key words – out of tribe. She said she’s honor bound to allow Trueborn Fenrir to challenge for either one of us. When I told her I’d refuse, she said I had no choice.”
THAT went over well – he can tell by the tone of her voice. Oh, but here’s the kicker…
“Then she offered some advice – that if I let you fuckin’ knock me up, she’d be more inclined to ‘honor our union’.”
[John Thornton] John leans his head back against the couch, thinking quietly on the matter. Then, with a long suffering sigh, he picks his head up again and speaks. It was the sigh of the war weary, of one who had expected nothing less, but had hoped for more.
“Honestly… I’m surprised she waited this long to indicate as much. I’m surprised Daniel didn’t contrive that measure of foolishness when he held your chains.”
Then, after another moment’s thought… This one longer… John speaks again.
“Iz… We both knew all along that there could be potential challengers for you or I. We can’t pretend that being snatched away by a greedy trueborn was never a possibility or that it never crossed our minds…”
Another swig of scotch, before John continues in a thoughtful tone.
“Did she indicate any such challenges were pending, either for you or I?”
[Izzy Montoya] There’s a soft growl when he mentions Daniel, the hatred there is deep and unmistakable, but she still listens… letting him choose his words, and even…
She sighs, and shakes her head. “It’s fucking ridiculous to think they can just… that some CHILD can come in here and dictate what we can and can’t do and… I’m an ADULT for fuckssake!” It’s always been the thing that she hates most about being mere kin… the way they think of those they can’t admit they need. After all, the kinfolk outnumber and don’t really need the true – it’s the other way around.
Knowing, or not, it still rankles, it still irritates. But she shakes her head at the last. “No. She said she’d tell us if the situation changed, but for now, we have her permission to be together.”
[John Thornton] John nods…
“Well, for now… Let’s enjoy what we have while we have it. Let’s make the most of things.”
His voice grows quiet as he continues, eyes of hazel considering the amber liquor in the glass.
“One lesson that I’ve learned, more than once since learning of the existence of garou, is that time is short. Slow playing something important, something that matters… It’s just a waste of time.
Time better spent enjoying the person you’re with. So while we have her permission, nevermind the implication thereof, let’s relax and make the most of it. We have nothing to gain for the moment by fighting them, and much to lose…”
He smiles that wan smile at her.
“Too much.”
With that, he finishes the scotch in the glass.
“If… at some point, one of us is challenged for, we’ll deal with it then. But whatever happens, at least we’ll have made the most of the time we had together.”
It was hard to lie like this; hard to say If and not when. The fact of the matter was, John knew this would come. Just as he knew what he planned, if things went wrong.
[Izzy Montoya] He speaks sense, and she knows that. He says if, when they both know the word is when. He says it, knowing it’s a lie, knowing that she knows it too. Even now, he tries to make her feel better – even knowing he’s a plan that he won’t tell her, that he has things he still cant share.
She lets her head fall to his shoulder again, and then chuckles, softly. “What, not gonna offer to knock me up right off the bat? And here I thought you were a gentleman…”
Teasing, clearly. She’d make a shitty mom, and is more married to the job than he is.
[John Thornton] “I had thought I might finish my scotch first.”
He almost grins at her, but instead settles for pulling her close into a one armed hug. Then, after a few moments, he shrugs.
“Maybe I don’t think I would do a child any favors with me as its father figure… I smoke, I drink, and I like to shoot guns. None of those spells cookie-cutter ideal in my book when I think of what a father is supposed to be.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Always slacking on the job, aren’t ya Detective Thornton?” She slides her hand along his thigh, and squeezes gently.
Then she’s laughing – well, chuckling anyway.
“And I smoke, drink, and am a better fucking shot that you.. pretty sure the thought of me being some kid’s mom makes even the Trueborn scoff… you could be stuck with me forever.”
[John Thornton] He shrugs, laughing quietly.
“I guess I’ll just have to make the best of it then… Even if you can’t remember who the better shot between us happens to be.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Don’t make me drag you to a shooting range, again, Thornton. You remember what happened LAST time, don’t you…”
She glares at him, but it’s clearly all in play. She finishes off her beer, and leans forward to place the bottle on the table, before she shifts her position and slides herself right into his lap, sliding a thigh over his so that she’s straddling him. she takes his glass, leans back and sets it on the table, before facing him again, her arms slipping around his neck.
“Now… what were you saying about making the best of it? How about we try that welcome home bit again…”
…and then? There’s no more time for talking – and a lot of time spent forgetting the Trueborn who attempt to ruin run their lives, if only for the night..
[John Thornton] ((And I think that’s a wrap. :) Thanks for the rp))
[Izzy Montoya] (thank YOU! :) )