.・゜゜・｡･:*˚:✧｡ james moriarty
A new life. A new city. And a hell of a lot of trouble.
Renzo, otherwise known as Rens Drake, is a Scottish boy, recently moved to London for a fresh start. However, with a criminal lifestyle, will pickpocketing informat...
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"YOU ARE DOING A GOOD JOB." Jim states from his position on the sleek black couch in his living room. I sit next to him, he seems to be acting a little distant and distracted. I kind of just sit there, not uncomfortable with him, but not exactly calm. "But I don't really get why you're all dressed up."
A small hand gesture is made to the the black suit and matching button up, I smile, subconsciously fiddling with the chain on my wrist.
"I'm not, this is one of my better casual looks. Though Sherlock is going to be calling me later, he's going to find a new case and he's going to take me with him. Seeing as we are 'dating' now, thought I'd dress up a bit, give him something to look at." I counter, sure of myself and slightly put off by his formal behaviour. I thought I was supposed to be his partner in crime, so why is he being so formal with me now? Finally my discomfort gets the best of me as I go to snap at the man. "What's wrong with you?"
He sets his cup back onto the table and looks at me, his facial features would suggest that he is annoyed with me for asking such questions, however his eyes tell a different story.
Eyes are the doorway to the soul.
"It's nothing too important. Forget about it." He flashes a hollow smile, an aura of conflict surrounding him. I place my ringed hand on his arm hesitantly, the suit fabric silky beneath my fingers. Deciding that I want to be nice to the raven haired male in front of me, I portray a look of genuine understanding across my face, and hope at least that's enough to comfort him.
"It's obviously something important if you're this worked up, you can tell me, I won't tell a soul." After a moment or two of silence, and a few debating grunts from the classy man, he gives out an angry huff and rather aggressively removes my hand from his arm.
"I lied. I don't think this is working out." He states simply, then proceeds to stare straight ahead of him.
"What?" I ask, my Scottish accent showing through a bit and emphasising my growing anger. Why is he being like this? "I am doing well, he is basically eating out of my hands!"
"Yeah, well, the deals off. Go home Renzo." He commands, his voice full of resentment, I can not tell who for; himself or I. What is the matter with him? Why is he being like this?
"You know what? No."
"No?" He dares a look my way and is suprised at how angry I appear to be.
"No. I will not go home, when we made this deal you said I was your partner. Your Queen. I'm fully committed to this, no matter the consequences. You committed, now I'm your fucking crime!" I quote in despair. Just when I was thinking I had met someone like me.
His face held a mixture of emotions at my sudden outburst, shock, hurt, hope, fear.
His face is holding so many emotions, I can barely read them all, currently reminding me of a lost child. This is really unusual for him, he looks so vulnerable, and I hate to think it's because of me. Although all these emotions soon convert to a look of pure anger, though I can tell that he is mostly mad at himself.
"Leave. Now." His voice growls, a dangerous vibe surrounding him. A pang of hurt emits through my chest, though I am too enraged to care. My face contorts into a scowl as I head towards the door. With a final glance back.
"I took a chance with trusting you. I won't be doing that again." My own growl is deadly.
And with that I leave him in silence.
--
Got a case, head to Baker's Street. SH
As soon as I read the text, exhaustion washes over me, whether it be from arguing with Jim or just today's clientele; I will never know.
Do I have to? I'm exhausted. -R
I know I shouldn't be hesitating, that this is all part of the game so I should be going. However, it seems I am now playing alone, or playing a different team, perhaps?
Yes. Its an emergency. SH
A sigh turns into visible vapour as it leaves my mouth, I zip up my leather jacket, the cold biting at me fingers.
Jogging to the curb, making sure I don't slip on the previously wet ground. I raise my ringed hand and hail a cab, one almost instantly arriving at my aid.
My mind is plagued with questions about Jim's sudden outburst. I can't help but feel guilty for it, and I don't even know why. Does this mean that the game is over?
Another sigh finds an escape from my mouth. Just when I was enjoying it too, enjoying him, and his unpredictable nature. I guess this is just another aspect that I haven't yet uncovered of him.
Climbing into the black cab, holding my jacket a little tighter.
