𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞

𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

Their thighs are touching on the park bench. It's nearly ten o'clock, the air has a bitter chill this late in November, and once in a while, his foot will knock hers in reassurance. I'm still here, says his sneaker connecting with hers. Don't worry.

The police station was too crowded, too vacant, too much cold white light burning down onto their skin and too much of that clinical smell that reminds Daisy of her last stint in somewhere like this at Thanksgiving. Her mind was running at a thousand miles an hour, her eyes watch her body fall through the door over and over, her blood spurting onto the linoleum floor like a carnival toy, her body clad only in cotton panties and a large t-shirt. Daisy stared at the doors, that slide open and shut automatically with every person that passes near, or the endless amount of people that seem to pour inside, despite it being a Sunday night in a nice neighbourhood.

Her fingers knotted together so tightly she thought they might break. It made her think of Kevin, who was rubbing his palms against his jean-clad thighs to calm himself. As someone raised in a cult, she was sure law enforcement made him just as anxious as it did her, so she'd reached out and taken one of his hands, and they'd walked outside. Nearby, a park. Well, barely a park. More a patch of grass, a small fountain turned off in this late hour, and a bench.

Which is where they are now, and the only thing running through Daisy's mind is how her life was doomed from the very start. How her mother leaving her on Isaac Cohen's doorstep on an unseasonably warm May evening had led to her sitting on a metal bench outside of a police station, waiting for their teammate after he just murdered somebody. Was she born for this? Was it in her DNA to get herself involved in the worst fucking situations, or was it just a lifetime of bad luck bestowed upon her for being a bastard child?

"Are you okay?" asks Kevin from beside her. Daisy stares at her lap. It's not like she's refusing to look at him, she just knows if she does, she'll probably cry. "I mean, obviously you're not."

"No duh," says Daisy, in the loudest voice she can muster. It still comes out like a mouse squeak, and she feels even more pathetic. Her arms come up to wrap around her knees.

"No duh," mimics Kevin. "Okay, Legally Blonde."

Daisy, finally, drags her gaze to look at him in the face. His face is still turned in it's ever-present scowl, but there's something twitching at the corners of his lips. "There is no way you've seen Legally Blonde. Absolutely no fucking way."

He shrugs. "I lived with Abby for a couple months when I first left-- when I got here. She's got premium cable, and it's not like I've ever been exposed to general Hollywood media. They don't make films about Exy, you know."

"Isn't there one with Hilary Swank--"