Pedosmiley
Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat!
A/N: :D That, my gentlesluts, my whores, is a pedosmiley. FEAR IT.
Also, I wrote this differently from how I normally write my stories. It fit. What do you think?
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I've got a secret.
It's a good secret. Not Jane-from-Phoebe's-workplace-gets-fired good. I mean Sven-and-Train-kissed-each-other-one-drunk-night good.
And I'll tell ya, just like that. Because, kid, I like you. And there, that's a clue as to the secret.
Rinslet—yeah, the cat burglar (I mean thief, not a girl who steals cats)—is a pedophile.
Mmm-hmm. No shitting you. I shit you not. This is one hundred percent shit-free fact, my friend.
You can't make this stuff up.
Every day, she signs on to her Yahoo account—even though most every one she meets insists Google is better, and she shouldn't have either search engine in her world anyway—and surfs random chat rooms pretending to be young and pretty.
Oh wait. She is young and pretty. Damn.
But
see, she goes after girls that are even younger and prettier!
Personally, I don't see why she wants them prettier than herself.
Talk about a low blow to a woman's ego. But hey, each to her own,
y'know?
Lately, right, Rinslet's been talking to this girl,
right, this little girl who's in town, in the same town she's in
now. And this little girl, she calls herself Ria. And Ria's invited
Rins over for a little chat. In my immodest and unprofessional
opinion, Ria's a freaking pedo too, or whatever's the opposite of
a pedo. Or maybe she's a normal man looking to pick up girls of his
age over the internet. Or maybe she's a giant mutated panda who
eats anyone foolish enough to respond yes to her invitations.
The thing is, on the internet, you can never tell. Boo, netizens can be predators too, it can happen to you, and another rhyming word, and all that jazz.
So, right, this Ria chick/kid/dude/panda invited Rinslet over. To a plaza off Main Street, just obscure enough so that if the two of them decide to do that thing that an obscene amount of people spend most of their time wanting to do—sex—then they can slip away without attracting too much attention.
But also close enough to a crowd so that if only one of them wants it, the other can scream bloody murder and be heard.
Clever Ria.
So Rins, our little Miss Best in the Business is all dolled up. Well, as dolled up as a woman can get in cut off jeans and a white pedosmiley tee. I think she wants her intentions to be absolutely clear, so that the girl—if Ria is a girl, and dammit just assume she is—can back out immediately if she doesn't wanna get it on like Donkey Kong.
About whom I know a secret, by the way. It involves bananas of both the literal and metaphorical type. Remind me to tell you about it later.
The plaza is a bright, sunny place, moderately filled with a steady stream of chattering tourists. It was one of those days when sunshine's dripping from melting ice cream cones and kids' smiles and glittering off every speck of sweat on a man's forehead and every inch of make-up smothered skin of a woman's face.
It was the sort of day pedophiles roamed around sunny plazas on, and that is the end of the description of this particular setting.
Rinslet sashayed across the cobblestone floor to the sun dappled table outside a café where the young girl was waiting. The girl's dressed exactly like she said she'd be; i.e. in a black off-shoulder frock with a broad-rimmed straw hat. Our cradle robbing thief leans over her and flashes—not her breasts—but a million dollar smile.
"Heya," she says, "I'm Rins. I think we met over the internet, on a chat room?"
The broad rimmed hat tilts up, and the girl's eyes go wide. But no matter how wide they go, they're no match for Rinslet's shriek of disbelief, because damn it all if Ria's not Eve.
That's right. Eve. Sven's adoptive daughter who also happens to be infested with nanocreatures, that Eve.
"Holy crud buckets, Eve, when you said you'd catch us a pedophile I didn't think we'd get a double bounty for turning in a robber as well!"
"Rinslet, huh? I should've known. Step away from the girl, woman."
Wherever a princess goes, her retinue follows. Of course, Eve wasn't an actual princess, but that doesn't really matter to Rinslet, 'cause she's basically screwed either way. Train and Sven are circling, coming closer to her, and she grins all meek and defeated-ish.
"I can totally explain."
Eve steps up and away from the woman. "I'm sure," she says primly, "The district attorney would love to hear it."
And Rinslet groans, and Sven and Train figure they've got enough a bounty to ride out the next year on seafood.
Which is, like, the most expensive kind of food there is.
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Why Rins and Eve? Because at the end of either chapter ninety four or ninety five, they're sitting on a bed together, half-naked. And on Rins' profile, it clearly states 'cute girls' as one of her likes. Nyah.