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Indie Raymond "Red" Reddington from NBC's Blacklist. Private. Selective. Mun/Muse 21+. Dark Themes present. Please read rules/bio before following/interacting. Written by Erick

whcwashe:

“ ….. Great.” She swallowed roughly, taking the glass once he’d handed it to her. Doing her best to shrink into herself, she looked at the glass of wine in her hand and shifted uncomfortable. Well, at least if the bottle was already half empty, it was unlikely enough that it was POISONED somehow. That was a plus. So what the hell, she takes a sip, nodding absently as her other hand fumbled briefly to try and find her phone in her pocket. Just to have it in hand. “Yeah, it’s not – it’s not bad.” She cleared her throat, nodding up at him after a second. God, she really needed to find a way to leave.

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“Ah –” She shouldn’t interrupt. She knows better than to interrupt, at this point, it’s not smart. She shouldn’t be here in the first place. She should keep her head down until it’s all over, that’s how people always get out of things like this, but she starts talking ANYWAY, sucking a breath in through her teeth as she continues. “Not to – not to interject, but I’m – I’m pretty good at finding things. I mean – really, really good at it. So –” She almost winced at herself, but she doesn’t, setting the glass down on the floor to work her fingers into the sides of the milk crate. “I’m sure I could figure something out if you just – you can let Steve go, I mean – if – I just – I don’t think anyone really needs to get … hurt.”

One could say that Red didn’t understand just how deeply, profoundly uncomfortable Liv was in this very moment, but that would be false. He knew the feel of the chill that goes down her spine as she makes herself small, the slight trembling of her hand as she takes the glass. “Aha, see? I thought you’d like it. Why don’t you do me a favor and put your cell phone on the table right there, to your left. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but,” he slapped his free hand against his thigh, “well, I don’t trust you. We’ve only just met, and I can’t have you calling on the police or anyone to come break up this nice little chat we’re having.”

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Before the bleeding man gets a chance to answer, she’s offering herself up. What a curious young woman. Terrified out of her wits, ready to bolt out of here at the first loud noise, and yet she’s offering to help. “Oh really? Well isn’t that just the damndest thing? You ending up here when I’ve lost something.” Steve mumbles something about maybe he should do what the lady says, which earns him a quick pistol-whipping. Nothing too violent. “Steven, no one asked you,” he turned back to Liv, “Now, I’d be inclined to agree with you if not for the fact that Steve and his little accomplices sent me my good friend’s ear in a box. If he’s going to hurt a friend of mine, then, he’s lucky I didn’t start by cutting off his ear.” Red tucks the gun into his waistband and picks up a piece of cheese from the little chopping blog next to the wine bottle and eats it. He’s having drinks with friends, why not avail himself of the food? Otherwise it would all go to waste. “Besides that, generous though your offer is, what would I do with Steve? I can’t just let him limp back to his foxhole and lick his wounds.”

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