Feedback: Yes, please. Concrit is awesomesauce. And feel free to lay it on me. I don't break ;)
Femme Fatale
It's Thursday evening and the city's quiet, nestled in that tiny lull of calm between the bustle of work-related affairs and the hoodlums and night ravens that swarms over the streets after dark. Not that I'm complaining. How else would I get any work? Lies and dark affairs are my bread and butter, and those ain't in short supply 'round these parts. As I walk up the stairs, the familiar creaking greets me like an old friend. Always relaxes me, like comin' home. I'm the man in here, best detective for miles, so they say. Haven't had a single client for a couple of days though. Don't matter much, spare time lets me catch up on my drinkin'. Approaching the door, I notice the lights are on. Company. Gently nudging the door open with my food, I cautiously peer in. You never know what to expect in my line of business. I never expected this. Sitting in my chair is the most gorgeous dame I've ever laid eyes on. Well worth a stare. She look like trouble.
I don't mind a reasonable amount of trouble.
Her big, shiny eyes are peerin' at me, nailin' me to the floor. She's pale, skin like a porcelain doll, and raven black hair frames her face. "I hear you're the man to see." Her accent. She's English. I walk in, looking as noncholante as I can.
"Didn't expect the mothercountry to be dropping by." Sitting down on the edge of the desk, I take out my cigarettes, offering one to the lady. Silently shaking her head, she's still staring at me. Staring through me, it seems. I light up and pull deeply, exhale and watch the smoke cloak the space between us. Her eyes seem less piercing this way. "So, how can I help you, little lady."
First time she's smiled since I came in, lips spreading into a smile that's both child-like and predatory all at once. Kinda reminds me of somethin', something familiar and unsettling at the same time. Can't put my finger on it. "My daddy's gone away. Miss Edith misses him so. I want him back. Want a proper family again. You'll find him for me, won't you, detective man?" I know what I know, and that ain't little, and what experience tell me is it ain't never as clear cut as the little dame wants it to sound.
Reaching into my coat pocket, I take out a small pad and a long, sharp pencil. She doesn't like that part, pops out of the chair, long fingers wrigglin' and waggin' at me. Bouncing off the walls, this one. Guy musta done somethin' to her, something worse than a smack now and then. They usually have those comin'. "Hey now, little lady, why don't you calm down and tell me about this fella of yours. Can't find him if I don't know which rocks to tip over." Offering a smile as congenial as I can muster seems to do the trick, her hands return to her sides, swaying slightly back and forth as they hang there limply. Maybe she's just had one smack too many. Fat-head gets too eager on the whisky, starts treatin' women like pinatas. Not good. especially with this skinny dame. By the looks of it she could snap like a twig any second.
I tap my pencil against the paper, "So, who's this guy?"
"Oh, he's marvelous," she croons, swaying back and forth in place as if listening a band playing only for her. "He's my dark prince, my daddy. Such wonderfully dreadful things he does. Or did. All gone away now." So is her smile, she's just looking at me expectantly now, as if I'm supposed to unravel her crazy riddles. "You're a dark little lady, you know that?"
"It's a dark little world. Did you know that?" A playful, yet menacing tone in her voice. Her eyes stay locked on mine, and the details of the room start to fade away. All that's left is her, coming close and closer. No, gliding. Slithering, baring sharp teeth in a wide grin. My memory connects the dots, it's the stories I used to read when I was a kid. A cheshire cat grin.
She's got a cheshire cat grin.
Disclaimer: Based on the characters and world created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No violation of copyright intended, and no profit made.
Summary/Notes: Small ficlet written for a noir challenge.