I suppose this could be considered a sequel or companion piece to "Thankless." While I can't imagine the mental toll it would have taken on Cole to know that Elsa was addicted to morphine, I can imagine that he was nearing his mental tipping point during the Vice desk, especially considering the deadly strain of morphine that he was investigating at the time. Hence, his violence when confronting Fontaine in this.
Prompt: Word Play- Choosing one verb, one noun, and one adjective from the list to fill this sentence, and use the sentence in your 4F: "When (verb), the (adjective) (noun) waits, eager and ready." Remember, you may change, if desired: verb tenses, add/remove articles (a, an, the), add pronouns, pluralize the chosen noun. The core meaning must remain the same.
Word Count: 496 Words
"You struck the sparks, you fired the flames in me, and now my heart's a blazing ruin. You say that you were…only fooling." Cradling the microphone close, Elsa winks. Her gesture sends up wolf whistles.
Cole flashes her a slight smile, but shrewdly decides against giving his location away by raising his glass. Harlan's jovial laughter, presumably at one of his friends' jokes, causes it to slip off his face.
"It's for her benefit," Harlan told him as he splashed his face in the men's room sink.
Cole's eyes narrowed. "You're her psychiatrist, from what she has told me."
Harlan smiled as he reached for a towel. His voice was muffled as he rubbed it over his face, "It's a sacred bond we hold, doctor and patient."
"Whatever that bond is, I want to see the documentation that allows you to drug her," Cole replied pointedly.
Harlan met Cole's eyes in the mirror. "I'm afraid that would be a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality."
"I'm on the vice squad now. I can demand it from you."
Harlan's tone was smooth as he turned. "I can't argue with that, but then you would have to place Miss Lichtmann in prison."
"Roy has no problem holding that over her head."
"He's needlessly rough with the girl."
"You're one to point fingers," Cole shot back, "Soaking her sorrows in morphine doesn't seem like helping her."
Harlan thumped his hand down on the counter. "If I don't do that, she won't able to get herself together enough to sing."
"What are you giving her?"
"I just said—"
Darting forward, Cole seized him by the shoulders, the towel hitting the floor. "There's morphine floating around Hollywood that kills the people who use it. You had best hope I don't find out if you're involved."
"Now, Detective—"
Cole shoved him against the counter, the back of Harlan's head tapping against the glass. "I'll ask you again, Fontaine, what're you giving her?"
He held up his hands. "I stabilize her. Would it be ethical of me to cut off her supply right now?"
"You've finally learned to how loosen up," Roy's backhanded comment greets Cole as he takes a seat, "Where the hell is my drink?"
"You didn't say what you wanted."
With a scowl, Roy flags down a waitress.
Cole joins in with the applause as Elsa bows. The clapping rings hollow to him with the thought of the morphine filling her veins tomorrow night. When she performs, the attractive poison waits, eager and ready.
Tonight, she is valiantly attempting to sing sober, but he knows how the withdrawal will end her effort: he'll carry her to her bed, and she'll beg him to return to his wife and children before the pain can overtake her. Leaning against the closed door to her bedroom, Cole will hear her sobbing and gasping, each strangled sound stabbing his heart. He will slump helplessly to the floor as Elsa relearns how to feel pain.
