12-10-2013, 04:58 PM
Jon's handshake was sturdy and quick, and Jensen's was sincere. He went so far as to wrap his other hand across theirs, sealing their collaboration all the more firmly.
He started rifling through the bag when Jon turned back to ask a final question. Jensen blanked. And looked down. Where could he start? "The best answer would be to show you,"
he finally said. He poured his belongings on the table. "If you're not busy, you're welcome to come with me. I probably won't get much sleep out of the night anyway. I'm still on third-shift schedule."
Thankfully, the bag contained his socks and shoes. They'd been removed in the ambulance, but whereas his clothing had been cut away, thankfully these had been pulled off the old-fashioned way. He'd not take socks for granted from now on. The hospital gown and sweat pants completed the outfit. He'd taken off his jacket at the murder scene to cover the shivering victim, and as it was now the middle of the night, he did not look forward to the cold air. But hey, freedom and cold air was better than prison and warmth. Most of the time.
They walked out together and passed through the various checkpoints without a hitch. A cold hallway led to the exit, and seated on an old bench was Jessika. She held her chin in one hand and appeared on the verge of falling asleep where she sat. Either she heard or she sensed their approach. Knowing her, it was probably the latter.
When she stood the material of her clothes fell silky as the loops of her hair. Her lips were downturned, but she was wide-awake. A bag lay at her feet, probably containing the ruined suit jacket. With bare arms and a flimsy top, she must be freezing. And Jensen had no jacket to offer her.
She strode directly for them, but it was toward Jon she aimed. Suddenly, Jensen recalled the tingle in his cheek from earlier. He paused to introduce them.
"Jon Little Bird,"
he gestured, "this is Jessika Thrice..-"
and left off the James.
"Thank you for your swift work, Mr. Bird,"
Jessika shook his hand. She held herself with poise and confidence. Shoulders back and eye-contact direct. "Your reputation does not disappoint."
She seemed on the verge of adding something when she looked at her wayward husband. He still wasn't sure how much, if anything, in that alley she had actually seen. The light? The creature? The healing?
He started rifling through the bag when Jon turned back to ask a final question. Jensen blanked. And looked down. Where could he start? "The best answer would be to show you,"
he finally said. He poured his belongings on the table. "If you're not busy, you're welcome to come with me. I probably won't get much sleep out of the night anyway. I'm still on third-shift schedule."
Thankfully, the bag contained his socks and shoes. They'd been removed in the ambulance, but whereas his clothing had been cut away, thankfully these had been pulled off the old-fashioned way. He'd not take socks for granted from now on. The hospital gown and sweat pants completed the outfit. He'd taken off his jacket at the murder scene to cover the shivering victim, and as it was now the middle of the night, he did not look forward to the cold air. But hey, freedom and cold air was better than prison and warmth. Most of the time.
They walked out together and passed through the various checkpoints without a hitch. A cold hallway led to the exit, and seated on an old bench was Jessika. She held her chin in one hand and appeared on the verge of falling asleep where she sat. Either she heard or she sensed their approach. Knowing her, it was probably the latter.
When she stood the material of her clothes fell silky as the loops of her hair. Her lips were downturned, but she was wide-awake. A bag lay at her feet, probably containing the ruined suit jacket. With bare arms and a flimsy top, she must be freezing. And Jensen had no jacket to offer her.
She strode directly for them, but it was toward Jon she aimed. Suddenly, Jensen recalled the tingle in his cheek from earlier. He paused to introduce them.
"Jon Little Bird,"
he gestured, "this is Jessika Thrice..-"
and left off the James.
"Thank you for your swift work, Mr. Bird,"
Jessika shook his hand. She held herself with poise and confidence. Shoulders back and eye-contact direct. "Your reputation does not disappoint."
She seemed on the verge of adding something when she looked at her wayward husband. He still wasn't sure how much, if anything, in that alley she had actually seen. The light? The creature? The healing?