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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:

Damn.

She bites down hard on her lip, relinquishing her cell phone after a moment, placing it just out of her reach on the table. She should’ve tried dialing mal before now, at least he’d have known to come looking for her. On the upside, really, if she wasn’t home by morning, at least they’d figure something was wrong. But she wanted to be HOME by then, or at least as close as possible. “I’m sorry, I just — my fiance works nights sometimes, and I usually …. check in like ten times a night …” Not a lie either, honestly. She never slept well without him, she was ALWAYS up when he worked a night shift. SOMEONE would know something was wrong if she didn’t check in eventually.

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Christ, she’d really stepped into the wrong mess. Ears in boxes. Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she took an uncomfortable breath in and shrugged, looking down at her feet finally. Refusing to look up again, she shook her head. “I dunno. Is your friend still alive? Because if they are, I’d probably let them decide, they’re …. probably upset about the ear – thing …” She settled, clearing her throat. She didn’t care. She didn’t. She tried to tell herself she didn’t, anyway, but the fact was that she DID. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt, and she certainly didn’t want to WATCH it, she was close enough to cracking without adding any EXTRA violence into her life. Eyes close quickly, and she huffs a breath out. “I dunno. But I promise — I promise I can find your … thing. Just — let me find it and LEAVE, I don’t care what you do after that.”

She was smart, mentioning she’s got a fiance, someone who cares about her, someone who’ll be looking for her should he decide to disappear her somewhere for walking in on his meeting. “Quite all right, my dear, but I can’t have you calling the police or breaking up my little endeavor here, it’s taken me long enough to get Steve to sit down and have a chat as it is, if the police break this up, who knows if I’ll be able to find my friend.” Red would keep an eye on just how long he kept her there, he didn’t need anyone’s suspicions to be aroused in a way that would make anything more difficult on him. She’d be allowed to leave….eventually. Just not quite yet.

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“Good idea though that is, Liv, that presents a financial problem. I’ll have to stow Steve somewhere until I can find my friend–whether the information comes out of Steve himself, or from you finding them remains to be seen. I can tell you with terrifying certainty that they’re definitely upset about becoming an effigy to Van Gogh. One of their least favorite artists, and now they’ve got something in common. I can bet they’re downright furious.” His expression goes slack, to an almost terrifying seriousness. “Liv, I would caution you to be careful making promises to people whom you don’t know very well. If you promise something like this and you can’t deliver, well–” he popped another piece of cheese into his mouth, “Would you like some cheese? I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask!” his entire demeanor had changed in a flash, from leveling a threat to offering food. It was a tactic, just like everything else he did. The cheese plate was placed between them, and he looked at Steve again, who just sighed. “I can’t just take you up on the offer, Liv. I don’t know you. I don’t know your skillset, and frankly, you said yourself you’ve got perpetual bad luck. Why should I believe that you can find my friend?” Steve tried to lobby for the idea, hoping to be able to break free, only to be silenced by a bullet in the knee. “Honestly, Steve, you’ve got to learn manners. I wasn’t talking to you, let the girl answer for Christ’s sake!”

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