[Maija] Friday night, and the BBQ was jumping, filled to the max with customers demanding all sorts of things from the normally quiet and hidden girl. In the restaurant, she wears another mask, one that few people of the nation have ever seen, and that’s just the way she likes it. She’s fast, efficient, and banters – yes, BANTERS – with the customers, her smile quick (…though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes…) her retorts witty, her service genuine enough to get her the good tips, and keep her bosses happy.
So much so that they usually won’t let her close down, making the busboy stay after, and shooing her out the door. It’s happened more often since she was injured, as they think she still needs rest. She doesn’t complain – she hates doing dishes. It explains, however, why she’s sitting on her own stoop, still wearing her apron and t-shirt that declares “Family BBQ is the place to B!” She’s reclined back against her streetside door, her fingers occupied with finding a lighter for the cigarette she holds between her fingers.
Beside her, a bag of leftovers – still warm. They swear they’re gonna fatten her up. It hasn’t happened yet.
[John Thornton] As Maija waits, a familiar purring sound approaches from the distance, as a smattering of scattered cloud cover causes shadows to dance in the slim sliver of moonlight upon the street below. The purring grows louder and louder still, until a familiar silhouette, darker blackness than the color of night, appears and bounds closer… The headlamps shining brightly to illuminate the way.
A short time later, the bounding form of the black Crown Victoria pulls to a stop across the street from Maija’s apartment building. The engine grows quiet and still, the key turned within the ignition, and after a short time, a man steps from the vehicle.
John appeared tonight as ever he had; disheveled hair, piercing and dynamic hazel eyed gaze, dark circled sockets as though he never slept. Though today, instead of the idle deadpan, Maija finds herself confronted with the wan not-a-smile playing about the detective’s lips.
Beneath the trench coat buttoned tightly to his form, a gray dress shirt and striped tie of black and maroon peek from the black coat’s collar…
The detective approaches almost immediately upon leaving the car; he obviously had seen her upon his approach in the Crown Victoria.
[Maija] The familiar purr comes about the same moment she finds her lighter. She watches the car as it slows to a stop, and while the engine cuts and the man emerges, she places her cigarette between her lips, and flicks her trusty and beat up bic, to set flame to paper and tobacco. A slow inhale, and she shoves the lighter into the pocket of her jeans.
She tips her head to exhale off to the side, away from the approaching detective, though her eyes never seem to leave his approach. A quick once over decides he’s in one piece, a slower second look reminds him she knows what’s under that buttoned trench coat, and then she meets his gaze, lips quirking into something that may some day grow up to be a real smile.
“Evenin’ Detective.”
[John Thornton] “Good evening, Maija… How are you?”
Whatever Maija sees or tries to see in her once over of the detective’s form, she finds herself inspected with a similarly critical eye… One that knew her recent injuries… One that seemed to see all too much at times.
A curious brow rises on his forehead…
“Rather cold to be outside at this time of night, in this neighborhood, isn’t it?”
[Maija] He returns the once over favor, and sees she is in one piece, and though a bit tired from being on her feet all day, content enough to sit here, and smoke. HE comments on the chill in the air, and she looks down at herself, and then back up.
“Jus got off work – s’hotter than hell in there, have t’cool off before goin upstairs. And…” and here, there’s something that’s almost like mirth in her dark gaze as she takes another slow drag, exhaling to watch him through the grayish plum. “Th’only one who’s approached me in this neighborhood t’night is you… should I be frightened?” While she doesn’t exactly smile, there’s a definite tease laced through her words.
[John Thornton] John stuffs his hands in his pockets, and shrugs his shoulders… That wan not-a-smile playing about his lips as he does so.
“They say it’s never the one who looks like a kidnapper…”
That said, John takes a seat beside Maija on the step, his eyes again focusing on the roadway in either direction.
“It does seem rather calm for a Friday… But I would submit it depends on what exactly you happen to be frightened by…”
[Maija] He joins her on the stoop, and there’s a subtle shift of her weight that lets her thigh rest against his, a brief moment of pressure, then relaxation. It’s not an overt gesture, but enough to suggest she’s well aware of his presence.
And she’s not frightened.
“Well, ain’t frightened by much, though I do got a healthy respect for things that wanna eat me.” a beat, as she stretches out her hand and flicks the ashes of the end of her cigarette to the cement below… “only if it’s in a bad way, o’course.”
[John Thornton] At this, John finds both brows climb skyward in surprise… That wan not-a-smile still playing about his lips. His tone is amused, clearly so, and daring and teasing in equal degree to her own.
He reaches into a pocket and withdraws a small pack of beat up Marlboro’s. Withdrawing one, he holds it out to light up off of her cigarette.
“It would seem you’ve little to fear from me then… I’m afraid eating, in a bad way, isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
His arm stretches around her slowly, his hand coming to rest on the stoop beside her… The whole of the motion almost tentative, careful…
[Maija] She takes his cigarette, and uses her generic brand cig to light his, before she hands it back. She tries to remember if she’d seen him smoke before but cannot come up with a time – perhaps she’s even more the bad influence on him than she thought.
His arm stretches around her, slowly – and lips quirk into that same, almost smirk, and one day, some day, might actually grow into a smile should she let it linger long enough.
It lingers.
The shift of weight happens again, a subtle movement that brings her closer to him, skinny form tucking easily against his side. “S’that so, Detective…” her tone still holds that warmth of a tease, as she glances up at him, brow arching just slightly. “So… that begs th’question… what is it ya did have in mind?”
[John Thornton] John takes a drag on the cigarette with a practiced ease… While he may not frequently smoke now, at some point, he certainly must have. Of course, given the job and the stresses that came with it, for John to smoke wouldn’t be much of a surprise.
Still… He’s never smelled of smoke before.
He lets the smoke escape in a simple rush of breath, before answering…
“Mmm… That is a tough question. One that should not be answered out of doors, perhaps…
That said, I might suggest that great minds think alike in this respect…”
[Maija] The brow hitches just a touch. “Is that so…”
It may seem as if she’s not going to answer for a minute or two, but then she does. “Of course, ya ain’t realize yer talkin to a gal who got caught fuckin in a Chicken n’ Waffels once.” Then she does something that is rare, and virtually unheard of. She laughs. It’s soft, but true and it softens her face, her expression, and makes her almost… pretty. “or twice.”
She reaches to the side, putting out her cigarette, and tucking the unsmoked half into her pocket, before she looks up at him again. “Care t’go inside, then?” Clearly, great minds think alike.
[John Thornton] “Inside it is… Please lead the way.”
And with that, John takes another deep drag from the cigarette, before turning it over and tamping out the flame on the concrete stoop. Unable to help himself, a low and quiet laugh escapes his lips…
It was full, and pleasant… And wholly unheard of from the detective of late. He could barely remember the last time he’d laughed. It was harder still to remember the last time he felt any need to do so. Still… It had happened nonetheless, and whatever might be said, Maija could claim that accomplishment as one in which she had no peer as of yet.
“Chicken ‘n’ Waffles… Twice?”
A curious brow raises, that wan not-a-smile resting firmly upon his lips. Perhaps the edges even seemed to creep skyward, making it slightly more of a smile than was typical for the detective’s stone faced demeanor.
The not-a-smile remains even as he lets her lead the way to her apartment.
[Maija] He laughs, and though her head is down to dig her keys from her pocket, there’s a smile, soft, lingering, before she stands, grabs her bag of leftovers, and then meets his gaze, briefly – and clarifies. “Caught, twice.”
It’s no secret that she is not a novice, it was no secret the moment she made her intentions known that first night, and he decided the age difference could be ignored. Funny how that happens with a naked willing and eager partner to urge one’s hands on.
Said hands are occupied right now, however, in unlocking the streetside door and pushing it open – it sticks – and then leading the way up the stairs to the apartment door itself. She still doesn’t clarify, or explain more, until they are inside. She leads the way, and lets him flip the lock behind them. She drops her keys on the top of the TV, and moves to the kitchen to put the leftovers in the fridge.
Then she doesn’t so much as explain as – tease. “I’ve a bit of a… adventurous… streak. Sometimes. An’ the batherooms are roomy, an’ it was a loooooooong walk home.” A beat, and she chuckles. “Was Will.” Her last relationship – also with an older man. She definitely believes that age is only a state of mind.
[John Thornton] ((Paused…))
[John Thornton] John just shakes his head, smiling that not-a-smile as he locks the doors behind them.
“I gather a bit too long to wait.”
Then, the detective turns and slides his trench coat from his shoulders, before folding it long-wise and draping it over the back of the couch. Turning then, he goes to the doorway of the kitchen to speak to her without shouting across the apartment.
“So… What happened when you were caught in the act?”
[Maija] “Not everyone has ya restraint, Detective…” The tease is still there, as she turns from the fridge, and unties her apron from around her waist, and hangs it on the back of the chair by the table in the kitchen. She pulls the ponytail holder from her hair, and lets it fall free down her back, before she peels from her uniform shirt to – leaving her in just a tank top, that she tugs on to straighten after draping her shirt on top the apron.
“Well, t’be honest, I think they was more embarrassed then we was. They jus’ kicked us out, tole us not t’come back again. So’s we hightailed it home t’finish th’job. So t’speak.” She pauses, and muses. “Never DID get my chicken ‘n’ waffles, come t’think of it…”
[John Thornton] John shrugs, before adding his own thoughts on the matter. His tone pleasant, matter of fact… Though the words themselves seem to portend humor.
“After you were done, the chicken and waffles would have gotten cold anyway… And think of the cholesterol you spared your arteries.”
Hazel eyes meet Maija’s briefly, before John speaks again.
“As for restraint, I’ve found it to be an inconstant attribute…”
[Maija] She glances down at herself, and spreads her arms a little bit. “Weren’t ya the one sayin I could use a bit more padding here an’ there? Cholesterol could help that. Or give me heart disease.”
She kicks her shoes off under the table, where they’ll stay until she retreives them for work tomorrow, and then closes the distance to the good detective as he says his restraint is inconstant.
“Is that so… an’ just what is it that makes it so inconsistent, John?”
There’s still that lingering tease in her voice, the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she looks up to meet his eyes.
[John Thornton] John’s eyes stare back, the hazel shade seeming green in the lighting of the kitchen. They simply looked, without giving the bug under the microscope sensation that so frequently is experienced by those who meet his gaze. He answers, all the while staring back into Maija’s eyes.
His voice is quiet, hushed… Just barely more than a whisper, given their proximity.
“One factor is whether girls with an adventurous streak tell me about escapades in a Chicken’n’Waffles restaurant…
That has a definite effect.”
He smiles that wan not-a-smile… Its appearance marginally more genuine seeming, more… unrestrained than was typical with the slight upturns at the corners.
[Maija] “Does it…”
She laughs, again, softly. It’s still such a new sound, one she hasn’t indulged in for a long time, and even new for him, though he’s seen her go from a scurrying street rat to – well, she’s still a street rat, but she’s slowly come out of hiding.
She is not hiding now.
She doesn’t look away, either. She just lifts her hand to his tie, running it through her fingers until she lifts her other hand and looses the tie further, until it’s undone and she can slip it from his neck. She drapes it around her’s instead. “Now, here’s a question for ya then… how adventurous is th’Detective? Any escapades of ya own? Or should I jus’ continue t’mention my own an see jus’ what kinda affect they continue t’have on ya…”
[John Thornton] John just shrugs…
“Do I really seem that stuffy?”
He raises a curious brow, as if to punctuate the question, though that wan not-a-smile still graces the unassuming deadpan.
“There was a time, not so long ago… Before I knew anything about garou or the Wyrm or any of this…”
He raises his hands as if to indicate the greater sum that went unmentioned in his prior statement. Then, lowering his hands, he continues.
“There was a woman that I thought I would marry. Ultimately, it fell through…
But we had this one time, on the beach near Lake Michigan…”
[Maija] “I ain’t find ya stuffy at all… leastwise, not yet…”
As he talks about this once, not so long ago, his hand gesturing and lowering, and she goes about unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time, her fingers cool as they slide under the edge, training across his skin in idly caress. It’s a touch of familiarity, yet somehow new too, as if she believes there’s a lot more story to be told in the touch of his skin than she knows already.
“Mmm, the beach. Warm – but kin get sand in uncomfortable places if ya ain’t careful. Ever done it in th’snow on a rooftop? Snowflakes meltin as fast as they touch ya skin, gettin stuck in ya lashes, ya hair, meltin round ya as ya heat rises..?”
The way she asks almost makes one wish it was colder outside, hm?
[John Thornton] “I don’t believe I have to date… Though I wouldn’t be opposed to try, at some point…”
John smiles that wan not a smile, seemingly perfectly content to let Maija do as she willed for now. He pauses only briefly as she begins on his shirt… Just enough to shrug his way out of the shoulder holster, and to set it on the table.
John’s skin is warm to the touch, and while it didn’t have the physique of a body builder, it was nonetheless well defined… Whatever the tales were of policemen and donuts, it appeared John preferred to keep in shape.
“I have had occasion to warm up the inside of a car with body heat in the middle of January at one point…”
[Maija] “S’enough reason t’keep me in Chicago… the snow… and body heat in January…” She says with a little grin as she untucks his shirt so she can get to the last buttons, and spread her hands slowly over his belly, his chest. Her hands are always cold, it seems – or rather, most of the time. There’s been two occasions now that he’s discovered her fingers to be warm – after they’ve exhausted themselves, and she lays tangled in his arms, spent and burning from afterglow’s warmth. Then her fingers are warm, her touch gentle, her smile completely unassuming, and unguarded. It’s then when she is truly beautiful – though she’d never think it herself.
She slides her arms around his waist, her fingers trailing up his spine in idly as she closes what little distance remains between them. “So, Detective… how’s that restraint now?”
[John Thornton] John’s arms slide around to Maija’s back, holding her even as she held him. His hazel eyes stare into hers, as he speaks quietly…
“If you want restraints, check my coat pocket. There should be a set of handcuffs in the left exterior pocket.”
That said, the hazel eyed detective winks, smiling that not-a-smile, holding Maija close to him.
“Other than those, I’m not aware of any right now…”
[Maija] That brings out the laughter again, soft and amused as she deliberately looks toward his jacket, and back up at him. “Is that so..”
She aims to have that not-a-smile turn genuine, at some point in the night, to have him forget the ghosts that haunt him, if only for a little while. She doesn’t pull away, but instead leans closer, until the shift in weight sends them a step backwards, and then again, moving toward the bedroom across the way – which would lead them in a direct path past his coat.
If that were really her destination – and it’s not. And she proves it with her next statement and arched brow. “The one’s in my nightstand are lined in fur…”
And then she has nothing else to say – finding something infinitely more satisfying to do with her lips. It’s a kiss that promises everything – promises she will keep, promises she does keep through out the next few hours spent exploring their lack of restraint…
…. their lack of mental restraint, anyway….