Hey guys! Quick little one-shot. Stephen's POV when he meets Rory. The dialogue belongs to Maureen Johnson. Xx
Stephen's first thought about the girl who had probably seen The Ripper was that she was remarkably pretty. She had long, thick raven-black hair that just barely reached her waist. It contrasted beautifully with her fair skin and red lips. She also had big doe eyes, the kind that could bring a man to his knees. She reminded him of an illustration in a fairytale book he had when he was little, Snow White. This was the first thing Stephen noticed about her. The second was that she was clad in ridiculous alligator pajama pants.
She looked dazed and frightened, huddling into herself against the cold. He knew that she was from New Orleans, which explained her aversion to the London chill.
He glanced down at his phone. Re-reading the text from Thorpe, Stephen wondered if her birthplace connected in any way to her having the sight. He wondered if she knew what he knew.
Aurora Deveaux (Rory)
17.
Born: New Orleans, LA.
Choked at Wexford refectory one month ago. Probably has the sight.
Studying her again, arm in arm with her roommate, Stephen thought she looked much older than 17. It was her eyes, he thought. They looked as if they'd seen a lot, good and bad, but could appreciate the world nonetheless. She looked so tiny, bundled up like that. He shook off his sympathy. He had work to do, after all.
He approached them. "Miss Deveaux?" he asked, watching her size him up. He adjusted his scarf, feeling uncomfortable with her scrutiny.
"Um," she replied, unsure of him.
He looked at her friend. "And you're Julianne Benton? Her roommate?"
"Yes," the petite blonde girl squeaked out, intimidated.
"You were together last night at 2 A.M.?"
"Yes," they chorused.
He looked at Rory directly. "You saw a man?" She blinked those long lashes at his blunt approach.
Annoyed, her expression hardened. She bit her lip, distressed, distracting him for a moment. "Yes, I told-"
Stephen cut her off. "And you didn't," he addressed Julianne directly, already knowing the answer. "You're sure?" If she were lying, this lead would be a dead end.
"No, I….No…" she stammered, nervous and visibly upset.
"Even though he was directly in front of you?"
"I…No. I…. No." Julianne's bewilderment told him all he needed to know. This confirmed it then. The Ripper was a ghost.
"Both of you. Don't speak to anyone from the press. If they approach you, walk away. Don't give your name. Do not repeat anything you told the detective this morning. If you need assistance, phone this number," he said, handing Rory a piece of paper.
"Phone it any time you need assistance, day or night," he emphasized. "And if you ever see that man again, even if you just think you see him, you call that number." He looked directly into her eyes, making sure she knew this was important.
She looked like she felt sick, but he thought she understood. With that, Stephen took his leave.
Rory and her roommate hustled back to their dorm. Minutes later, he saw her look out her window. She surveyed the green, taking in the cops, the reporters, the forensic tent, until finally her eyes came to rest on him. Feeling a jolt in his stomach at the eye contact, he walked out of her line of sight. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that keeping an eye on her would prove to be one of the hardest assignments of his life.