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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:

“Most people assume I’m — cheating, somehow ….” She sighed, shoulders dropping as she glanced up at him. Her mother, even, still thought she was crazy. It wasn’t the kind of thing she liked to push. Psychic still sounded WRONG whenever it made it’s way across her tongue. Like it was bunk. And really – she couldn’t have blamed anyone for thinking that way. She ran into far more fake psychics than she did real ones – the hollywood psychic types, and all that. She swallows, biting her tongue after a second and looking back down at her hands.

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“It’s not that I’m not — happy to see you, it’s just ….. unexpected.” She paused, chewing at her lip as she looked at the bottle of tequila. She appreciated the gesture. And she appreciated that she’d HELPED him, and his friend. But she hadn’t slept well since they’d met – she wasn’t suited to violence, and she wasn’t sure how exactly she was supposed to ACT. “Ahm –” She nodded, taking a deep breath. Food would be fine. She could eat, even if she was feeling awkward. “Falafel sounds great. Just — Jarrett should be home in a couple of hours, though, so …” She paused, clearing her throat. Fine. It was fine. It’d be fine. “It’s really that good?” An eyebrow lifts, as she leans to take the glass and inspects it. She didn’t DOUBT him, but expensive liquor had never exactly been on her radar.

Raymond laughed, “There’s nothing wrong with cheating as long as you get the results you want,” he shifted in his seat, watching her. Psychics, mediums and the like probably weren’t real, but there was no explanation for what she’d shown him, how she’d found his associate –– not one that made any logical sense at least. It was unorthodox, to call upon the mystic forces to get the job done in a more developed country, but he’d seen plenty of things in the jungles of South America and Africa, things he still couldn’t explain. Whatever works, he always said. 

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“Ah! Well, yes, that’s fair, I did intend this to be a surprise, so it looks like I accomplished my goal.” He smiled at her, genuine. She’d warm up to him eventually, most people did. Even people who met him by being stuffed into the trunk of a car. Red picked up on the uneasiness like a predator would, but he worked against the grain, here. “I’m not here for anything other than some dinner and sharing this wonderful tequila.” He was nothing if not straightforward, at least when he needed to be. “I’ll be gone before he’s even in the neighborhood.” One thing Red didn’t need was a police officer walking in on his fiancee drinking tequila with some strange man she couldn’t explain. “My dear, it’s better. Go on, I’m dying to see your reaction, drink up!”

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