Partners in Crime: Jacklyn & Aileen (JA for those who are savvy enough to
figure it out)
Disclaimer: We're not rich. Nope, no siree, nada, non, nien, notin. ::Looks around at pitiful surroundings---blocks of moldy cheese and paper mache meese (as in the plural of moose):: No, we're definitely not rich, at least not in any value that counts in the world today. So, we haven't the money to purchase something as expensive as copyright laws. L.J. Smith owns the rights…for now.
A/N: My grammar man was recently murdered…take pity. If you care to flame us for it, please send all e-mails to Russia, we hear that it gets cold there. Help a Russian brother in need.
"What the umph, come on…what the f… I've never had problems with this watch before."
"What are you mumbling to yourself for? We happen to be in the middle of a crowded room with a mission ahead of us…and you playing with your damn watch! Come on!" Leindra elbowed her friend firmly in the stomach. With a glare she turned to leave.
"You know you have the boniest elbow…almost as scrawny as my kid sister's," detecting the fire in Liendra's eyes Rea added, "you stay here. I think I'll get some of that punch."
"I hope you spill it on that shirt. Or better yet, do me a favor and choke to death," Liendra swiveled her curls floating around her shoulders, leaving her partner with a smile.
The punch tasted like wine. Probably spiked. Otherwise the evening wasn't so bad. Except, well the music wasn't really here taste. Too loud, too…boring. Taking another sip she noticed Liendra who sat, legs tightly crossed, working her charm on some older man. At least that was how it looked. Sometimes it was funny to watch her friend. She really was so very tiny. At just under five feet, Liendra tended to end up looking like some cutesy rendition of Shirley Temple. Rea smiled at the thought of Liendra happily dancing, lollypop in hand. God she would kill her if she knew that Rea had even thought of it.
"Hey sexy," a southern voice drawled behind her.
Rea didn't even turn around. She didn't need to. Not really worth it.
"Why don't you ditch this party and let me show you some real southern hospitality," Vincent insinuated.
"Must be all that practice you southern gents have with them hogs of yours," Rea mocked his accent.
"Ow! I like fire in a woman. You know, Sug, you really should slow down and take life as it comes. Down south we do everything nice and slow, better too," Vincent, replied a smile stretched across his pale face.
Rea studied him, head to toe. Studied him in a way only predators recognized. As a fellow hunter Vincent knew the intention of her once over, but ignored it.
"Like what you see Sug' I got plenty more to show if you're ready and willin' to do your part," the invitation dripped from his lips like molasses.
Rea had no intention of getting any closer to Vincent than absolutely possible. He might be a charmer, however poor his intentions. But she was too smart to believe a damn word that came out of his mouth. Vincent might be charismatic and slightly attractive, but Rea had the feeling that he was more vain by half, and the only person he was ever out to benefit was himself. Leaning towards his face, Rea brought their gazes parallel; ready to offer the final blow that would finish the stupid conversation. And hopefully end his annoyingly frequent invites.
* * *
From the far side of the room, Liendra was trying to carry on some form of communication with the most boring, conceited, excuse for a man she had ever laid eyes on. What she wouldn't do for an excuse to sock him in the eye. Stupid bastard. If he didn't stop talking about his frieking car, she was going to half to make up some kind of reason and leave. He was ugly and dumb, and not worth her precious time. The man obviously did not spend much time away from his mirror. He probably had no clue where the files were. Tearing her eyes away from his, she scanned the crowd hoping to find someone who might.
That was when the explosion hit and there really was no need for an excuse to leave anymore.
Disclaimer: We're not rich. Nope, no siree, nada, non, nien, notin. ::Looks around at pitiful surroundings---blocks of moldy cheese and paper mache meese (as in the plural of moose):: No, we're definitely not rich, at least not in any value that counts in the world today. So, we haven't the money to purchase something as expensive as copyright laws. L.J. Smith owns the rights…for now.
A/N: My grammar man was recently murdered…take pity. If you care to flame us for it, please send all e-mails to Russia, we hear that it gets cold there. Help a Russian brother in need.
"What the umph, come on…what the f… I've never had problems with this watch before."
"What are you mumbling to yourself for? We happen to be in the middle of a crowded room with a mission ahead of us…and you playing with your damn watch! Come on!" Leindra elbowed her friend firmly in the stomach. With a glare she turned to leave.
"You know you have the boniest elbow…almost as scrawny as my kid sister's," detecting the fire in Liendra's eyes Rea added, "you stay here. I think I'll get some of that punch."
"I hope you spill it on that shirt. Or better yet, do me a favor and choke to death," Liendra swiveled her curls floating around her shoulders, leaving her partner with a smile.
The punch tasted like wine. Probably spiked. Otherwise the evening wasn't so bad. Except, well the music wasn't really here taste. Too loud, too…boring. Taking another sip she noticed Liendra who sat, legs tightly crossed, working her charm on some older man. At least that was how it looked. Sometimes it was funny to watch her friend. She really was so very tiny. At just under five feet, Liendra tended to end up looking like some cutesy rendition of Shirley Temple. Rea smiled at the thought of Liendra happily dancing, lollypop in hand. God she would kill her if she knew that Rea had even thought of it.
"Hey sexy," a southern voice drawled behind her.
Rea didn't even turn around. She didn't need to. Not really worth it.
"Why don't you ditch this party and let me show you some real southern hospitality," Vincent insinuated.
"Must be all that practice you southern gents have with them hogs of yours," Rea mocked his accent.
"Ow! I like fire in a woman. You know, Sug, you really should slow down and take life as it comes. Down south we do everything nice and slow, better too," Vincent, replied a smile stretched across his pale face.
Rea studied him, head to toe. Studied him in a way only predators recognized. As a fellow hunter Vincent knew the intention of her once over, but ignored it.
"Like what you see Sug' I got plenty more to show if you're ready and willin' to do your part," the invitation dripped from his lips like molasses.
Rea had no intention of getting any closer to Vincent than absolutely possible. He might be a charmer, however poor his intentions. But she was too smart to believe a damn word that came out of his mouth. Vincent might be charismatic and slightly attractive, but Rea had the feeling that he was more vain by half, and the only person he was ever out to benefit was himself. Leaning towards his face, Rea brought their gazes parallel; ready to offer the final blow that would finish the stupid conversation. And hopefully end his annoyingly frequent invites.
* * *
From the far side of the room, Liendra was trying to carry on some form of communication with the most boring, conceited, excuse for a man she had ever laid eyes on. What she wouldn't do for an excuse to sock him in the eye. Stupid bastard. If he didn't stop talking about his frieking car, she was going to half to make up some kind of reason and leave. He was ugly and dumb, and not worth her precious time. The man obviously did not spend much time away from his mirror. He probably had no clue where the files were. Tearing her eyes away from his, she scanned the crowd hoping to find someone who might.
That was when the explosion hit and there really was no need for an excuse to leave anymore.