Margaret was laying back on the hard motel bed, munching on the last of her onion rings while, in her head, making up a story to go along with the muted episode of Miami Vice playing on the television. While regretting that she hadn't the foresight to tell Toulon to up the volume, she had to admit that her version of a sexually repressed Crocket and Tubbs was far more entertaining.
"Yes, YES," she muttered watching the pair converse as they poured over the evidence of a drug smuggling operation, "I slept with your wife, but only so that I could get the smell of You off of her, I've told you once Crocket: what we had that beautiful time at the office Christmas party..."
"I don't understand, how many times do I have to explain this," she recognized Toulon's voice and heard someone walking outside her door, "Would you just go."
"Dammit," she downed the last onion ring and hopped off of the bed, wadding up the fastfood bag as she chewed, "The show was just getting good too."
"I simply do not wish to impose," a deep baritone voice cut in, and drew her to a halt, "It is my responsibility after all."
"Yeah, bloody right, but, look," Toulon told him in an exasperated voice, "I get sideways glances from folks all the time and I'm not a walking pile of metal and smoke, just get in the room already, I'll take some cash, I'll get some clothes for the girl."
"The girl?" Margaret moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against it.
"It's not that I fault your logic," the baritone responded, "I simply dislike leaving endeavors which should be my own, in the hands of others."
"Faldecto, what?" she cracked open the door and peeked out, seeing the pair of them arguing on the walkway, the wider suit of armor was cradling something in his arms but she couldn't make it out with the scarecrow blocking her view.
"And I take it that word puzzle means you don't trust me?" Toulon sighed, "Understand something, you can't just go traipsin' around with a bouncing bundle of naked ten year old in your arms, people are gonna think you're a pervert."
A chill seemed to permeate the air at those words, a dangerously sharp aura that even Margaret felt from her hiding spot, and hit Toulon full in the chest, causing him to take a step back.
"Alright, um," he nervously coughed, "Let me put it another way, you've got no car, no identification, and no physical body, anyone with any moral decency is gonna try to take her away from ya," Faldecto seemed to swell before him, dwarfing the scarecrow with sheer wrathful presence, "Or, OR, you could leave her here, Alone, and avoid all of the fuss, but, is that what you really want to do? Just, float me a tenner," he anxiously skirted around his companion and unlocked the door to his room, "Wait here, and I'll come back with everything you need."
The smoldering suit of armor paused for a moment, but the murderous aura it was putting out finally receded as it ducked down to fit into the room.
"Do not make me regret this," he told his companion.
"Yeah, yeah," Toulon muttered, only to be fixed with another piercing stare, and amended, "Yes sir."
Margaret watched the door close as both entered the motel room and pretended to exit just as she saw Toulon coming back out.
"Hi," he spotted her at last, counting through a stack of bills.
"Hey," she played innocent and glanced at the room, "You cheating on me now?"
"Wha-?" he followed her gaze and shook his head, "That? No, that, that's this whole other thing."
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Ichabod Crowley - series 1 Life and Legacy
KorkuAtop a hill on the edge of a small town there sits a lonely house with a sour aura. There you will find a man with stitches running around his neck, a chip on his shoulder, and a gun at his hip. If you have dallied in the dark, played with demons, o...
