Why Did God ol Mighty Have to Have Another Angel to Serve Him?

DuckieSue

DuckieSue

Junior Member

~Rebecca Thompson~


Nothing stays the same for long. When I mean nothing I mean even people change. They see where they can supposely improve in themselves and they try their damnedest to do just that. Even if it destroys the people around them that care for them the most. What I’m getting at is that even going through hell isn’t suppose to last forever I’m sure as hell hope it doesn’t. Is it suppose to be punishment? It’s punishment enough knowing that I will never see his face again. That smile, god it could lighten up any load on your shoulders in a heartbeat. That thick skull of his, that was so hard at times to get through, it was possible though. For god’s sake I had just had the first taste actual love. There was nothing that made me so open to trying new things but him.


I smirked still half awake from an evening nap at his place. It was early summer, just a summer fling I thought but it turned into far more than that. He shook his head with a wild eyed grin as he popped an oyster into his mouth, reaching over while chewing silently and kissed my forehead. He loved oysters with a passion. I could never see why, still don’t. I yawned and was just about to cover it before having a gooey substance enter my mouth. “Just chew, you just might like it.” He said taking away the napkin that I had already grabbed. I cocked a brow before chewing soundlessly and swallowing. It tasted like f****** mud for crying out loud. I drank some of his sweet tea trying to get the taste out of my mouth for good. “Such a f****** bastard.” I mused shaking my head handing his drink back to him as he shrugged. “At least you tried it.”


“You stubborn donkey. Why would you even try that? What were you thinking Shane? Seriously, you threw a punch at my dad!” I hollered seeing him take out his pocket knife and cutting the strings that held together the bell of hay, not acting like he even heard my voice that echoed through the small barn. “I had to beg him for you to keep your job with working for him.” I said walking up hurriedly and grabbing his wrist pulling him to look at me. The next thing I know I’m pinned against a stall door, his hands under my ass picking me of the ground as my legs latched around his waist our tongues wrestling for dominance. See what I mean by he could bring any load off your shoulders. It was simple to him.


My socks slid across the hard wood floors, as the music blasted through the house. I closed my eyes spinning around with a bottle of wine gripped loosely in my hand. Tonight my parents were out with their friends so why not have a little fun? I ran my hand through my hair roughly before jumping and falling on my ass looking up at Shane first with fearful eyes, gripping a chair leg to throw in front of me for protection. Without a second look I released the chair as he smirked, trying his damnedest not to bust out laughing. “Screw you.” I snarled getting my breathing back under control quickly. He pulled me up into his rough arms. I decided at that very moment it was real. Real love, not just another summer fling, actually something special for once. He looked down kissing my lips ever so tenderly before speaking that sweet tone. “I bet you would love to, cause I sure do.” A few hours later we were both entwined in each other. Both in or birthday suits snuggling so tightly against one another I could feel his chest rise and fall with every breath. “Do you ever think about the future? What it will have in store. What do you see?” He asked against my for head before kissing it adoringly. I was just about to speak before I heard a shotgun getting cocked at my door. “Boy you better get the hell out of here before you end up in body bag six feet under.” My father warned pointing it straight for Shane’s head. Before I could do anything he had pulled on his jeans and basically ran like there was no tomorrow out of the house. I thought that night would never end. I can’t count how many times my parents said, “You’re never seeing that boy again, you hear me. That’s a fact shug”


The next morning was a bit foggy, something seemed extremely different. Not in good way either, it felt off. I was placing the folded clothes into the drawers of the dresser that had little pictures here and there of Shane and myself. I smiled faintly as I pushed the drawer back into place as I turned to see my momma going to sit on my bed and my dad just standing in the doorway. I thought it was kind of weird. How their expression was just told me something was wrong. They looked so ashamed before my dad couldn’t stand me not knowing any much longer. “Shane. He got hit by a drunk driver. It was a head on collision. There was no survivors…I’m so sorry baby girl.” He said trying to push through the news I could tell his voice was shaking through it all. My mom bowed her head beginning the water works. Tears automatically brimmed my oceanic eyes. Turning back to the mirror to gaze at the photos. Right then they became memories that would never be brought back up with him. Never to be looked back on and laugh or butts off because of it. “You're just saying that. It’s not true. It’s can’t be true.” My eyes turned like a switch to my father. In my eyes at the moment it was all his fault. They were filled with hatred and I couldn’t control myself. “You did this! You made him leave for god’s sakes! I hate you! Say you hated him! Say it! You made him leave!” I hollered through the tears my voice struggling, my mind was whirling like a windmill in a hurricane. The hurricane was over in a few second of throwing punches into my father’s ribcage as he just tried to comfort my head, trying to sooth me. The storm passed and what it left was me and my dad on the floor with a broken heart. I was balling my eyes out into his chest not being about to breath, on the bridge of hyperventilating. I rushed into the bathroom out of his grip not being able to contain the little that was in my stomach at the time.


It was a stormy and nasty outside it. They hadn’t had a storm like this ever since that night. I couldn’t stand it any longer I had to go see him. The cross on the side of the road of course. I hadn’t even driven past it not beginning able to see where it all went down. I ran out of the house letting the screen door slam behind me. “Where the hell are you going shug?” My mother called before shaking her head. I just keeping running, my mind picturing his truck in front of me. Until about 20 minutes later I was out of breath and my legs felt like jello my mind picturing the crash. Glass few everywhere it was so vivid I dunked when I looked up everything was gone except the cross. I walked the few feet and sat down weakly beside it. I wiped the tears from my checks but it was no use. “I saw you. Shane. I saw you.” I said through the rain that was soaking my whole body.


Now it’s time to start back with the hell hole that was the wildest bar in town. Even if its been a few years I still don't go on the road that the crash was on. I just don’t think it would be best to see that tiny cross every day. So my little Tacoma has to take the back roads, and thats fine anything not to get stuck up on something I have no control over. I pulled into a vacant parking space, retrieving the material that was needed in the passenger side. My mind wondered off allowing my eyes to receive a perfect spitting image of Shane laughing in the passenger seat. I shook my head before getting out, locking my doors to protect the valuables in the truck. Like the browning sign that hung down from my review. Before clasping the door handle of the school entrance I kissed golden tobacco leaf that was on a chain, used to be his necklace before he had given it to me to hold on to and remember him when were not physically together. I got dressed into the bar tending uniform before heading hurriedly out to the counter. My eyes scanning for a split second before getting to work fixing drinks rushly even with a bit of grace. After serving the first ones sitting I moved my way to the last one that walked in. "What can I start ya off with sir?"

​
 
The door clicked silently behind him, he took a deep breath and began walking. Mentally and physical plagued the usually light face of Mr. Jace Hansen. He shook his head, trying to get the thoughts of criticism and other nasty feelings to leave him be. Jace had taken the job at the local law firm in hopes of pursuing his career goals of becoming a lawyer, however over the last few weeks of working in the reality of law he started to slowly and slowly diminish the once brightly burning spark of aspiration. The feeling that hung around the office was a cocktail of hatred, annoyance, lack of trust, and maybe even a shot of something flat out cut throat. Dark hair brushed against his face and brought him out of his reverie, giving a small smile he realized that the day was over and he had the next three days off. It was suppose to be a vacation to see family, but Jace didn't have any. Really all he wanted was a break from everything, perhaps another opportunity to work on his book. ding.The elevator had come up to the 37th floor, the one he worked on, and he stepped in releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Dark colors, with a bright white trimming to contrast made the Law Office look sophisticated, innovative, and blah blah blah. His boss, a woman who seemed ageless due to multiple surgeries, had swooned over her office as if it were her first born. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, the thought of his boss having a child was the same to him as imagining a dragon walking up to a baby rabbit and giving it a carrot. The small animation made him chuckle out loud. Loneliness shrouded him in the small elevator, even the music had stopped playing. It had to be past midnight so they probably just turned it off. He didn't mind though, solitude had always been more forgiving to him then most humans. Looking around to inspect the minor details of the elevator he caught his own reflection. Dark half moons under his pale grey-blue eyes, fair skin, dark untrimmed hair, and a nose with just the slightest bend in it. When he was 12 him and his brother had gone out to the railroads like they did every summer day, simply to play.


'You couldn't catch me if you tried!' his brother antagonized him, but in a playful way. He was only a year younger and they were usually mistaken for twins. As all 12 years old would he took this as a challenge and darted after his sibling, in a few strides he had caught up to him and tackled him with a soundless grace that his parents had always worried about. They fell over one another, sloppily wrestling and eventually let go and started to laugh.


This event had taken place right before the night. Jace shook his head, not wanting those dark days to plague his mind, but it was to late. They seeped in, like an icy cold river, sending a shiver down his spine.


'You never loved me! EVER!' It was a female's voice, his mother's to be more specific. Jace and his brother had walked in, and as soon as they did found shelter in the coat closet. They listened trying to decipher what was happening. 'Do you know what it's like!? You're never home, always gone, and when you are home you lock yourself in your room for DAYS. Sometimes I wonder if you're even alive...' The yelling had turned into sobbing, which turned into heartbroken whispers. Jace's parents never argued, well they did, but over small things like who had moved the remote last, or why the dishes weren't done, normal people things. Expecting his father to walk across and hug his mother like he always did when she was crying, he heard a sound that was the equivalent of him crushing a soda can. In a split second his mother's body hit the floor. For being small and petite she hit the floor with a sound that reminded him of thunder during a bad storm. His father walked past the door and looked back, whispering nonsense to himself. Slamming the door behind him, he disappeared.


After their father had left, Jace went after his mother, the younger brother left after his father. Jace waited holding his mom's head in his lap. He waited, and waited, and waited. Finally his mother came around, it had to be a couple hours. Jace's cheeks were puffy from tears that had been shed, but now his eyes were solid and hard. 'Who are you? The words stung, and slowly but surely that stinging turned into a deep cutting pain. Jace told her that he was her son, and she started to mutter incoherently. Putting her head down gently he called 911. He couldn't cry, his voice was cold and hollow. He helped his mother move to the couch where she lay and mumble incoherent things to herself. Sitting next to her Jace stared off wondering what had happened to his father and brother.


'Excuse me... Sir!' Jace shook his head shook his head, and realized that the janitor had grabbed him by the shoulder and was shaking him. He gave a small smirk, though his face was drained of all color. The janitor was kind and explained to him he had zoned out for a few minutes. Jace thanked him quietly and hurried past him into the city where he inhaled multiple lung fulls of cool night air. He shook his head again, trying to keep tears back and wandered off in a direction he wasn't really sure of. Going home wasn't an option right now. Looking up he noticed that he had stumbled across a bar.


Perfect.


Walking in and pushing his was quietly through the crowd he sat down at the bar. For a few minutes he just people watched, and than a friendly voice broke his reverie. He just couldn't stay focused tonight.


"What can I start ya off with sir?"


He gave a small smile,


"Just a scotch, please." His voice was dry, and sounded heavy. He cleared his throat and repeated himself.


"A scotch, sorry about that couldn't find my voice for a second." With a hollow laugh he looked back down at the bar.
 
The blarring music made me have to read his lips mostly instead of even trying to hear the mans voice. I could tell by the way he looked he wasn't waiting for anyone special to walk through them doors of the bar. Everyone had a story, you could always tell by someones eyes. This man obviously had a weight pressing down on his shoulder. A few glasses of scotch would probably tip the edge off of what was weighing him down inside. I couldn't help but smirk at his smile. It was strange seeing a man in a tux around this part of town. Normally it was just hicks, bikers, and sluts. No one gave odd stares though which somewhat surprized me. "On the rocks fine?" I called to the man as I got the whiskey from the top shelf before getting the glass.


{Sorry it's so short trying to write a paper for a class}
 
(Don't worry about it, I know how that goes.)


He stared at the fine grain of the bar's counter top. Shiny and worn down it was almost soft, as soft as a solid material could be anyways. Looking around he saw the smiling and laughter of people, though he realized all of it was only made possible by whatever liquid sloshed around in their glasses. Looking up again at the bar tender he nodded, "Sorry I guess I should have mentioned that while ordering." Half of his voice was apologetic, the other half sheepish. He wasn't nervous or anything, but he usually didn't associate with people. After answering her he looked around him again, and caught his reflection in the window of the bar, he looked strangely put together for how he felt on the inside. Looking back towards the bartender girl, the next words tumbled out of his mouth,


"Do you think all people suck?"


The sentence sounded juvenile, but that was negated by the fact of how much poison and anger leaked in to the single word of suck.
 
I carelessly smiled faintly as my hands returned him with a drink before leaving the bottle out knowing he was going to want another glass. No one that has ever ordered scotch leaves with only one in their system. I notted my brow lightly at his question. There was so many men that have come through the doors looking for just someone to talk to. Someone to give them advice. I've heard stories from their scared to settle down to their best friend slept with their mama. None of it really mattered to me. None it made me the less be interested, but the way this guy's question came out got my attention. "Not all people suck. Probably only 99 percent of population does. Everyone has their flaws and past that made then that way." I looked down the long line of people at the bar. Everyone chatting up a storm and drinking to their hearts desire. "I'm guessing you've had a long day man." She mused leaning up against the counter with her palms.
 
He nodded at her answer, and noticing the bottle, he assumed that she knew that he was going to not only want more but need more. Looking up at her and meeting her eye he laughed, this one not as hollow at the first. "A long day would be a walk in the park compared to this." He shook his head slowly realizing that he was talking to a complete stranger. "Though I guess it doesn't matter to you much." He ran his hands through his dark hair and stretched. Leaning forward again and propping his face up with one elbow, he decided to socialize for once.


His eyes ran back down to the bar where he spoke quietly, "99 percent, huh? Well my odds in that case are looking great", he worried that she might not hear him but half of him also didn't care. Who was she to answer his questions about life and other emotion based things. She seemed nice enough, but who could prove that she was part of the 99 percent of the world that was there just to make everything worse. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the sense of an impending crisis he slid the glass away from himself and sat straight up. He decided after her next reply he would retreat back to his apartment where we would sleep for the next three days. Sleep and drink til his liquor cabinet was dry.
 
I couldn't place my finger on why someone so successful looking could be wanting to shut everyone around them out. This just didn't set right with her. Her parents had always told her if you want to be someone you got to act the way people want you to. You have to be strong and let nobody tear you down from where mentally you stand. "It depends if it matters or not to me if the reasons are worth drowning into bottle for the night or not." I couldn't help but give the man a sweet swift smirk before allowing it to fall as soon as my ears heard the rude call. "Hey! Sweet tits, how bout you make my buds and me a couple drinks. Strongest you got....You're going home with me tonight sweeheart." The man reached over the counter grabbing my wrist firmly. "You understand?" It took everything in me not to spit in the mans face, instead I nodded sweetly. Goal was tonight to get that man so drunk that he couldn't hurt a fly.
 
Trying to process her words, he went to ask her for another drink before a loud, and terribly obnoxious voice pierced his head.


All he caught of the entire fiasco was, "You understand?" The voice was low and threatening, and Jace thought this would be the perfect opportunity to duck out and leave. However the expression on the girl's face startled him.


Fierce, determined, and waiting for the opportunity to strike.


Perhaps he was imagining things, but decided that if she could stand up for herself, so could he.


He inhaled deeply and looked at the man, speaking loud enough so he could hear him over the noise of the bar.


"Here's a little trivia question for you, simply by grabbing her wrist, do you know how many years in jail you could spend if she decided to press charges?" He waited half a second, and than continued. "2 years with a bad lawyer, 5 years with a good one."


He stood up, now standing at his full 6'2" stature. Smiling he brought himself to speak again, though underneath his look of calm was an overload of fear, anxiety, nausea, and a few other things he couldn't place.


"I really suggest you let go of her. And that consultation was for free, lucky you."


Knowing that he looked, smelled, and simply held the air of the lawyer he was hoping that intimidation would prevail in this situation. The moment he closed his mouth he regretted it. Realizing that these aren't the type of people to listen to reason. Breathing slowly he waited to hear the reply of the man standing in front of him.


'Way to go Jace, first you decided to **** up at work. And now your picking fights with some guy at a bar you stumbled into. Over a bartender that you're not even particularly fond of. Great. Just absolutely wonderful.' ​The thought lingered in his head, as he put every ounce of himself in to keeping his eyes hard, his breathing level, and his knees strong.
 
The man quickly let go of my wrist as he glared deathly at he man in the suit. That was all he was to me, the man in the suit. Until this point he wasn't anything more. Now he was the man that had one moral that was obviously clear. Don't treat women like slaves. Most men that walked through the doors didn't have that rule programmed in their mind. I will forever remember what my father used to say when we target practice. If a man ever touches you without care, always remember that you know how to walk out. While my mothers opinion was forgiving someone was always the answer. I always had been a daddy's girl. I quickly made the men drinks, sneaking alittle stronger whiskey in there, but not enough to taste. "Here you we sir." I chimmed trying to get the man's attention from the other man. I knew where this was going and there was a easy solution to it. I reached over rushly knocking the tall glass on alcohol onto the boldly framed man. "The f***?" This made his attention go to the chilled liquid instead of the man in the suit. "Oh god I'm so sorry sir!" I exclaimed trying not to show how fake the situation of my trying to help was. As the man tried to clean himself I managed to look over at the man that actually stood up for me, smirking faintly. "Your chance. Go." I mouthed to him refering to if he didn't want to get his ass beat by the damp man then he would get the hell out.
 
Grateful for the opportunity to leave, he bowed his head slightly and turned on his heel quickly. His eyes glanced over his shoulder, a look of apologies and a bit of embarrassment. He sighed heavily and came to the door and suddenly a small voice in the back of his head pulled at his mind.


Stay.





He could have sworn that someone whispered the word, but looking around everyone else was pre-occupied and he knew that he was now starting to go insane. Looking out the door and pressing his hand against the cold glass he pushed it open, and then the voice again.


Do not leave her.





This time it had conviction in it. Muttering under his breath he slid his jacket off, revealing a simple pressed white shirt. Dropping his suitcase off by the door, he hesitantly pulled out his phone. Shaking his head slowly, he dialed 3 numbers.


"911, what's your emergency?"


He inhaled slowly,


"I'd like to report a fight at the part located on 64th and Pike Street."


The lady rambled on, and said that they had dispatched people.


Jace ran his hands through his hair, walked back up to the bar, moving swiftly as he could.


And within the next few seconds, drew his arm back, and landed a punch in the back of the head of man who had decided to terrorize the young bartender.


"Well here goes nothing," he muttered to himself in a tone mixed with defeat and exasperation.
 
Anxiously I glanced at the business man as I notice he didn't really leave. "Little whore how bout you get me a dry rag. Make it snappy." The man said but before I could reply with the rag in my hand, there was fist being plowed into the man's face. Blood from his busted nose spattered onto the business man's white collared shirt. "Damn it." I muttered underneath my breath as I rushly grabbed one of the bold man's hand. Cuffing it to the the poll underneath the counter by leaning swiftly over the bar. I jumped over the bar the gun in her belt clear to the bloody nosed man. "Touch anyone else. I swear to god you'll get tazed." Everyone was starring and right then and there I knew my job with discovered. Yes I was a undercover cop. The reason why I was a bartender because my main suspect always came in at one and I had been tracking him for a few nights. Now I would have to start all over because everyone that would come through those doors would know I was a cop. Knowing someone had called in to the police because of her radio speaking about they were headed out there to her. "I got it boys." I said into the radio before putting it back into my back pocket. I looked to the white collared man with a little bit a rage in my eyes. I couldn't help it, he was successful. Why the hell would he want to get charged with fighting when he had to job to keep. "Go before they send more cops just check up on me. You don't need charges, I'll just say me and him got into it. Get you're damn suitcase and go boy." I snarled before sighing lightly, "Thank you though."
 
Everything was a blur, and the drip of warm blood was what awoke him from his daze.


Her movements were swift, almost cat-like in how percise they were. He listened to her, but didn't indicate that he had heard her. Seeing the gun, the radio, and how she reacted.


Another wave of embarrassement fell over him.


All you can do is mess things up, Jace.


The thought stung more then he thought it would, but he gave a weak half smile towards the girl. Of course she didn't need his help, he was just some dumbass intern at a law office, she had the experience needed to take care of situations like this. Feeling defeated and even lonely he walked to the door slowly, keeping his head bowed from all the murmuring and looks. Not that he cared, but he felt he had just made the girls life ten times harder simply by showing up. He should have run back to the apartment like he planned.


People never, ever, ended well.


Why? What did that solve? You're lucky she's not charging you with something, stupid. And you work in a law office, for christ sake!"


Running his hands through his hair he tried to shake the feeling of being a burden off, but luck just wasn't on his side tonight.


Stealing one more glance at the girl, he bent over slowly and picked up his suitcase. It felt foerign in his hands, even though it had been his for years. Everything felt distant.


That's where you belong, the office. Now stay there.


He sighed heavily and pushed the door open with his shoulder and walked into a wall of cold. Heading back towards his apartment the only thought that ran through his head was would he have enough booze to last him the next few days.
 
The blarring music tried to clog my mind but my eyes were laid the only person that mattered at the moment. There was something about the man, that was leaving, had captured my full on attention. It was a hard job to acquire, but he did it so effortlessly. Without a second thought I hopped of the counter after reading the right out to the bloody man. I jogged slightly outside the door, allowing the door to close on its own as I watched the man walking down the street. I felt bad for snapping at him, so I called clearly down the street to him. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to snap at you." I glanced up at the street light flickering. It was deciding if it wanted to go out or not.
 
Lost in his thoughts he heard the girl, and a few seconds later, processed her words.


"Oh, don't worry about it. I mess a lot of things up, if anything I should be the one apologizing." Turning around he sheepishly threw one hand up behind his head and tried to give her a smile. Slowly it faded though and he began to feel how he did earlier.


Like a mistake.


"Look, whatever it is that you were working on, I shouldn't have intruded, I just wanted to help you. Not that you're weak! I just..." His voice trailed off not wanting to cause any more damage then he had.


For once he just told the truth,


"I didn't want you to get hurt. You're nice and well nice people don't need to be bothered like that."


His face blushed a bright pink, and he turned his head away, trying to hide the childish reaction to emotion.
 
I couldn't help but smile at the nervous body language that the man infront of her clearly shown. Not to sound self-centered but I could tell anybody's body movements meanings. If people are nervous they rub their head. If someone crosses their legs they're normal cautious of their surroundings. If someone holds papers up over their chest, they are nervous, not wishing for anyone to look at them. I souldn't believe the word nice escaped this guys lips. Nice was never used to describe me. Wasn't a lawyer suppose to have a lot of confidence? Wasn't alcohol suppose to loosen people up? It just made this man more tightened up. "I appreciate it. I really do. I haven't seen a man step up since I was in the South. It's a good thing. Trust me no woman in the right mind would scold you for doing what you just did." I spoke with a certain sweetness in my voice trying to set the mood as comfortable. "To tell you the turth I love starting over. I hate when a case actually ends. The actions over then."
 
She was strange. Most women were timid and quiet, she was bold and borderline audacious.


Looking at her as if trying to solve a puzzle he smiled, and dropped his hand to his side.


"Well I guess I'm not your average guy, I'm kind of strange. Wouldn't have guessed I was a lawyer, huh?" He let a small chuckle escape his lips, realizing that the distance between them was still rather wide he walked towards her and stopped a few paces off.


"You like being in danger?" His eyebrows moved upwards in a motion of confusion. But he let it drop and returned it with a smile, "Well everyone is entitled to what they like and don't like, right?" Looking at the girl he thought maybe he could make it up to her with coffee of a meal of some sort.


"If you're not busy maybe I could make this up to your over coffee or a meal?"


Realizing immediately this sounded like a lame pick-up line he scrambled to redeem himself,


"I mean -- I just wanted to make it up to you, I'm sorry... I'm kind of a moron when it comes to people."
 
I couldn't help but glance at his smirks, they were cute to me but I didn't show it by my expressions. My expressions lightened to slight sarcasm. "Don't blame me for liking like dangerous situtations when you like proving other people guilty or not." I mused raising a brow teasingly. "Since I can give you my real name now. I'm Rebecca Thompson, and you are?" I questioned reaching out my hand to shake his as she formally introduced herself. Introductions were important to me. It was a once in a lifetime thing. You never really introduce yourself twice to someone. "The night is still young if you want to go get a coffee now. There's a cafe on the corner of this street that stays open 24 hours. They have amazing coffee."
 
He laughed at her mockery of him and grabbed her hand gently.


"Well good evening Ms. Thompson. I am Jace Hansen." Removing his hand, and bowing dramatically he looked up at her and smiled.


Returning to a full standing position he heard her proposition and a spark of joy jumped inside of him.


"Well if the evenings young, there's good coffee nearby, and two people... Well obviously that means we must venture out to find said coffee."


He offered his arm to her, hoping that she would let him escort her to the nearby cafe she spoke of.


For being obsessed with danger she was pretty and fairly small, but the again, he was always an awkward sort of tall. Shaking the thought of way he shot her another smirk, hoping that she hadn't realized his daydreaming.
 
The street finally decided to go out, to anyone else it would darken their mood but to me it actually made me smirk faintly. I couldn't help but snicker at the lawyer bowing infront of her. "Then it's a done deal." I said taking his arm tenderly before they began to walk side by side. I looked over at him with a comforting smile before asking, "So Jace, did you always want to lawyer? No racecar driving and famous baseball player dreams?" I couldn't imagine someone actually wanting to go in the most hated career path. People normally hated lawyers because when you need one if they even lick a stamp for you the money from you'r wallet is going to be flying out.
 
"Wonderful."


Hearing her next question he hesitated, but just gave a half-smile.


"I don't necessarily want to be one, but it was something I was told I might be good at. Plus maybe I could fix the image that lawyers have created of themselves. Except most of them really are greedy and quite cut-throat." He shrugged, and looked down at her.


"What about you? Always wanted to be in the middle of battle, or did you ever have dreams of being a princess of ballerina?"
 
I narrowed a brow in muse because of his explanation. "So you're good at proving yourself right. Such a wonderful skill." I teased pushing him lightly off-balance in a joking manner before she opened the door of the cafe. "I actually wanted to be a famous barrel racer. I was top in the nation but fame doesn't impress me much so I moved on to greener pastures. I want something to surprise me everytime I came to work so I ended up being a undercover cop." I explained as I sat in the booth that I always seemed to go to after smiling brightly at the aged waitress.
 
"Well at least it can be useful, right?" He smiled at her joking gesture and then listened to her next sentence carefully.


"Barrel racer, huh? Well fame really only leads to bad things, so that makes sense I suppose. Though barrel racing seems much safer then the situations that you seem to get yourself in to," for a second he looked away, catching his reflection in the window, and shuddered. Small amount of blood were spattered across his once clean white shirt, and he looked strangely pale, perhaps even a little shaky. Returning his glance to the girl he gave a half smile, "So... what was the case that involved the lovely man at the bar?"
 
"Depends on the situation I guess because with women proving yourself right doesn't normally set well with them." I mused, laughing lightly at his assumption about barrel racing. Most people in the city has never gotten on a horse especially a barrel horse. They are trained to just run, causing them to be dangerous because of the mind set that the training has caused. When waiting to get out of the gates to start the racing some prance in place because they are so ready to run. That's if you don't train them right. With horses you can see when something is going to get bad. I didn't like that feeling of knowing, that's why being an under cover cop is much more interesting to me. I watched him look into the window at himself, dropping my smile faintly. "Lets just say he has done things to women that no man should. Him and some other guy thinks it's funny to gang up on a hooker and stab her multiple times. She's lucky to be alive. I just hope she doesn't get back on the street." She said before looking around to the waitress before back at Jace. She was obviously the only one working there tonight.
 
([MENTION=2132]DuckieSue[/MENTION], here's the reply! sorry for the delay.)


Her voice was strangely calm for the grotesque situation she had described. Then again it was pretty normal for crime to be rampant in the area that they were in, however he couldn't get over the fact that she had willingly put herself there. Was it strength? Or maybe she was just an adrenaline junkie? Perhaps she was crazy?


The last question was followed up by him mentally kick himself, she was a nice lady and someone had to do it. Looking back at her, he gave a smile, and tried to place his words together carefully.


"How long have you been doing this?" He waved his hands in the air, as if to represent her career. "The whole undercover cop thing."


The coffee had arrived finally and he took a sip of it, thankful for the excuse to look away from her, she had a strange way of making him trip over his words. Usually he was fairly sure of himself but she brought out a more childish and clumsy part of himself. However, it was a nice relief from his every day job. Professional, all the time with no exceptions, and the worst part? You had to pretend you liked it.
 
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